Monologues (29)

1 Name: Anonymage : 2017-09-24 19:37 [Del]

Is text a good place to conduct monologues?

2 Name: Anonymage : 2017-09-24 22:08 [Del]

I'll try not to interrupt you.

3 Name: Anonymage : 2017-09-28 06:40 [Del]

>>1 Sure go ahead.

4 Post deleted by user.

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6 Name: Anonymage : 2018-02-10 20:38 [Del]

its all a monologue. I suspect that not a single one of us is responding to another, merely reacting or creating against the stimulus of board-presented texts, i.e. the phenomenal surface of the posts, not the posting user who we presume in the narrative fiction of our activity

7 Name: Anonymage : 2018-11-18 22:38 [Del]

I am the skull living inside this carcasse. I'm sorry about saying carcasse, it's a harsh word but I don't know many words. I'm Portuguese you see, pardon me. I live quite on top of the walking carcasse, though it doesn't walk a great deal, in fact it lies on the floor on top of a fake Persian carpet most of the time. Some times it gets up and walks across corridors into a kitchen and it eats. Not a great deal anymore but enough to continue existing. Drinks some water and walks around, passes around looking every direction, using the eyes and the nose not so much. The legs moves very silently, as constanly hiding from... something. Maybe, I don't keep tabs on what the carcasse does anymore. I did at one point. This will sound absurd but at one point in time, I was the whole carcasse, I considered legs and arms and heart as mine. I had a stomach and muscles and everything else as a full human, eyes and nose and hair and all. Fingers and other bones too, tibia, ribs and vertebrae, aulnas and carpals and all that. In fact a full human with a full room full of things, also mine I assumed. Naturally I mean, being the one making use of those objects. Then I began reducing, decresing in size. I stopped caring where the legs where going and where the arms were hanging and what the hands were grabing. The eyes looked and I didn't care, let them look, whatever it is. I was abandoning those shores as you might say, retreating farther and farther, going up, to the very top. You might say that stopping at the brain would be the natural path to go. Well the brain is too moist and ugly, it's soft and full of chemicals. It's fairly unpleasant. So just like that I settled on being a skull, no mandible. Living rested inside a face. I have nothing to do with the face by the way, though it does take its shape from me for the most part, but I don't identify with it just because of that. There it is. I've deserted the whole machine and now it's deserted of thought. It's been always deserted of thought but now I make a point of it, so I can reach this mentality I'm working on, I'm sure you noticed. This mentality, you see. At first one might assume it's a form of disappearance. As in reducing oneself little by little until there's nothing left. That is not the case I asure you. What I went through is a case of transformation. Metamorphosis. I guess the easiest way to explain it is by relating about this monk who wanted to become a stone. He ate less and less and drank less and less and in time his body dried like a dead leaf. Sure enough he became like stone. That's one way of going about it. There's another way, a secret way, of metamorphosis. Let me ask you this; which part of a human body is closer to stone? The hardness and dryness, the colours even the shape even, some times from certain angles. I've seen stones that resemble bone a great deal. That's how it went. Chose that one part and retreat to it, retreat to it in all honesty. I've met other people like me, people who are only feet. People who are only hair. People who are only ass. Yes there are people who are just stomach or just blood. They did it too through many different ways. Wasn't Kafka who said he met a man who became all horse? Then there you go. And why not doing it after all? Why not doing it I say, the world arbitrary as it is, as busy as it is, forgetting everything all the time, beings falling through the cracks by the millions. By the billions, trillions maybe, maybe more. It's pouring beings of all kinds outside, from up there. It's a torrential tempest, an amazing sight for those with no stomach. It's violently raining creatures every where, it's a confusion everywhere, it's a mess everywhere and everybody is looking after itself the best it can, and it's seldom enough, dare I say, it's never enough. All things running and stomping, looking every direction not knowing anything and always busy somehow. Imagine this if you will. Standing on a vast, cool desert under a bright glowing night. The sound of wind blowing the sand softly, the comfort of incalculable vastness. The comfort of never getting bored, not ever, not once. Imagine this. The sight of the dunes and the slow moving sand, and the wind and the infinite in front of you, facing everything. And those things are everything there is to be. You never grow tired of the desert or the sound of it, or dread the night. Your mind turns to it with perpetual fulfillment. As if you are a vase and the world is water pouring in, just enough to fill it all the way up, not leaving any gaps and not spilling a single drop. Well. I had that thought many times. I wish I would be reduced to a single thought, or a perfect line of them, really well put together. I do have many dreams and I am spreaded in too many pieces of many things. Moving up here, letting the carcasse be for a while was my way of having closure to an excess of open doors. There is such a thing as excessive curiosity and there certainly is such as thing as excessive thoughts. Look it this way. An adult is just a reduced child. This might strike you as odd at first, giving the fact adults are usually bigger than chidren but think this way. An adult is a concentrated child. Children as you know will follow any whims and any thoughts and their curiosity will hold onto everything. No self-control or discipline to advance to one particular direction. They will receive everything and let all things drop and pick it up again. They're curious about all things because to them all things are marvelous. An adult on the other hand, is a human able to focus on very few things and even fewer holds any interest to them. They use curiosity sparingly, in reduced form, compared to children. Children are the explosion and adults are the smoke that rises in a line towards the sky afterwards. Now, excessive curiosity is hurtful to adults. There's lack of focus and anything is enough to drags us off course. Just now I was telling you about how I became a skull and a desert. See what happens? Ended up talking about concentrated children on the way. There are concentrated children pouring from that torrential tempest as well, along with lots of others things. So why not take the opportunity to live in dreams and to metamorphosis? I am a skull inside a dream, on top of a carcasse lying on a fake persian carpet, stading on a vastless desert at night, watching creatures raining from the stars, holding a monk made of stone, whistling in the wind, completely fulfilled. And let me tell you this one more thing my good friends. It is beautiful.

8 Name: Anonymage : 2018-11-18 23:19 [Del]

>>7
I'm sorry about that, you might want to zoom in at about 150% if you want to read it without going blind.

9 Name: Anonymage : 2018-11-20 03:03 [Del]

>>7
People who are just blood. Good metaphor, transparent and snappy. Did the monologue initially conclude at "I had that thought many times", or maybe something is cut that followed? I see this as two different chains of thoughts connected around that moment.

10 Name: Anonymage : 2018-11-20 10:07 [Del]

We live in a society

11 Name: Anonymage : 2018-11-22 09:59 [Del]

meh

12 Name: Anonymage : 2019-05-31 19:58 [Del]

I am terrified of success. I cannot handle committing to a successful act. I am procrastinating on advancing my future. I would rather listen to one song for several hours than spend several minutes making corrections to my life's course. I do not know why this is. Can I blame self-hate? Is my attention deficit disorder the cause? Perhaps the inertia of a broken schooling system has onus for my inability to become motivated or disciplined, or it may be the responsibility of my dysfunctional upbringing.

My heart is squeezed free by a press of any song it once sang, and with time, even the memories of notes will drip from the plate and vanish. The harvest of a soul living in squalor sates none, yet cruelty hath fervor for me, as winter soon approaches and all that will remain of the hands behind these words is hollow bones.

13 Name: Anonymage : 2019-06-10 20:08 [Del]

>>12

>I am terrified of success. I cannot handle committing to a successful act. I am procrastinating on advancing my future. I would rather listen to one song for several hours than spend several minutes making corrections to my life's course. I do not know why this is. Can I blame self-hate? Is my attention deficit disorder the cause? Perhaps the inertia of a broken schooling system has onus for my inability to become motivated or disciplined, or it may be the responsibility of my dysfunctional upbringing.

That perfectly describes me as well.

14 Post deleted by user.

15 Name: Anonymage : 2019-06-14 04:11 [Del]

>>13

>That perfectly describes me as well.

I'm glad my feelings reached someone. I hate what I wrote. Reads like bad poetry. But I'm glad someone understands.

16 Name: Anonymage : 2019-06-15 20:02 [Del]

I don't wanna cry.
I don't wanna cry.
I don't wanna cry.
I don't wanna cry.
I don't wanna cry.
I don't wanna cry.
I don't wanna cry.
I don't wanna cry.
I don't wanna cry.
I don't wanna cry.
I don't wanna cry.

17 Name: Anonymage : 2019-07-13 22:30 [Del]

based monologue posters

18 Post deleted by user.

19 Name: Anonymage : 2019-08-12 04:17 [Del]

> We are apes ooking and eeking, that's all we are. Antinatalists are over-rational really. Embrace the eek ook.

ban this pro life scum. suffering has always a negative value. ignoring and denying this fact will only bring more suffering upon the already meaningless and innocent lives that cannot consent to come into this hell-like existence.
The future is either free of sentient beings or infested with bastards who don't care about justice. Which future you think is the best for humans?

20 Name: Anonymage : 2019-08-14 13:55 [Del]

Death is Absolute.

21 Name: Anonymage : 2019-08-14 17:30 [Del]

why do people bring up quantum immortality in suicide discussions
do you have knowledge of previous lives? of course not. when you're dead you're fucking dead. the excuses cowardly normals come up with to make others doubt their extremely rational choice to kill themselves. and even if it does repeat, at least this life will be cut short and thus prevent a bit of suffering. suicide is ideal, suicide is justice.

22 Post deleted by moderator.

23 Name: Anonymage : 2019-08-19 17:53 [Del]

>>19

>ban eek and ban ook, allow ook and eek for no one but ourselves.

y?

24 Name: Anonymage : 2019-08-19 20:59 [Del]

lmao imagine reading the same boring damage control written by normalfag psychopaths over and over again for years

that's wizchan

25 Post deleted by moderator.

26 Name: Anonymage : 2019-09-18 10:06 [Del]

OH SHIT I JUST READ MY DIARY ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK I SUCK THAT PERSON ISN'T ME THAT PERSON IS AN IDIOT.

So I've been an idiot all this time? Wait. What if I'm still an idiot? Right now, this moment that I'm writing these words, am I being an idiot? Oh man, I can't, I don't want to. I need to stop this somehow. Only way to do it is by never writing again.

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