some results did confuse me a tad like Hasan Piker being my closest personality but for one of these tests it was alright. happy i got my favorite philosopher Camus. and i find it fun that any libleft position has paris commune as one of its closest countries.
i was sailing to a howling cave and saw this mountain. i had to climb to the top and damn was it worth it
maybe i am asking for help to early on this but im only four or so paragraphs in yet i already feel disgusted by my work in a way i usually never am. i writing a sort of diary esque book from the perspective of a nameless character that is heavily inspired by my own experiences and other depressing and bizarre works. here is a random paragraph for some added context
"I am not a person. That much is true, I am impossible to help. No medication has saved me. Therapy has only made me realise the depths to which I am separated. People live their days with joy, with anger, with everything right and wrong bouncing across them. I do not. My mind exists in a constant, a vast autumn plain, yellow fields of grass spanning hundreds of miles under the dark and clouded sky, casting little light to give vibrance to the world in which my days are spent. The field experiences no wildfires to reduce it to ash, and it experiences no rain to bring to life the long dormant grass. It stays petrified, and in that stillness I exist. Separated by the forests and mountains that make up the minds of men. It is not depression, for a person must first experience bliss to even feel desolated. I was simply abandoned by the world. I feel nothing but the material. When I fall I do not get upset or feel pain, I simply know that my side does not work as well."
please ignore any spelling mistakes or improper grammar as i usually write instinctively on first draft and then fix it in the editing process :)
maybe i am asking for help to early on this but im only four or so paragraphs in yet i already feel disgusted by my work in a way i usually never am. i writing a sort of diary esque book from the perspective of a nameless character that is heavily inspired by my own experiences and other depressing and bizarre works. here is a random paragraph for some added context
I am not a person. That much is true, I am impossible to help. No medication has saved me. Therapy has only made me realise the depths to which I am separated. People live their days with joy, with anger, with everything right and wrong bouncing across them. I do not. My mind exists in a constant, a vast autumn plain, yellow fields of grass spanning hundreds of miles under the dark and clouded sky, casting little light to give vibrance to the world in which my days are spent. The field experiences no wildfires to reduce it to ash, and it experiences no rain to bring to life the long dormant grass. It stays petrified, and in that stillness I exist. Separated by the forests and mountains that make up the minds of men. It is not depression, for a person must first experience bliss to even feel desolated. I was simply abandoned by the world. I feel nothing but the material. When I fall I do not get upset or feel pain, I simply know that my side does not work as well.
please ignore any spelling mistakes or improper grammar as i usually write instinctively on first draft and then fix it in the editing process :)
i was sailing south with my longship at night and it started taking damage. i had no clue what was going on and thought maybe something was under me so i kept sailing. then my ship was destroyed. there were no nearby islands so i just let myself die and tried to get my stuff. i had 250 silver 60 tin and 150 stone. i also had all of my equipment but thatll be easier to get back. i assume considering the water color that the damage to my ship wasnt a glitch either.
