No.1
____________________________
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No.2
>>1
The real humans are at 8chan .moe fren
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No.3
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No.4
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No.5
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No.6
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No.9
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No.10
>>1
Wow, I can't believe I'm replying to a post with just the number 1.
Is this a brand new board? Who made it? Is this our new home?
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No.11
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No.12
>>10
It appears so, I came here to find my fellow robots. Never realised how much I missed you guys. I don't know who made it, I saw the name and figured this is where the refugees would be. But it was a wasteland. It seems the other place has more robots, but not a lot.
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No.13
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No.14
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No.15
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No.16
>>1
glad to see you bros. hopefully zoomers went back to their tictak and disc
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No.17
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No.19
>>12
>It seems the other place has more robots
What other place fren?
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No.20
>>1
Yes mister 1 I am here
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No.21
Yep. Funny thing is, before 4chan got shut down, i havent browsed /r9k/ in years. Mostly because of the constant gay shit being posted. Still, glad some frens are still out there.
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No.22
>>1
Death to the filter we are free
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No.23
>>1
Yes fren, some of us made it here.
I missed comfy slow boards
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No.24
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No.25
###Link-Removed###
Let's watch this ITT
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No.26
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No.27
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No.28
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No.34
>>1
Roger sire, what are frens meant to do now
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No.35
>>1
Roger sire, what are frens meant to do now
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No.36
>>1
Roger sire, what are frens meant to do now
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No.37
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No.42
>>2
that site has a captcha so its unusable
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No.43
>>21
seriously bro so many dicks, they should have just gave it /e/ rules I don't know why moot was so gay
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No.45
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No.68
Will you guys go back to 4 now?
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No.71
>>68
I'm not as giddy as I thought I'd be, with it coming back.
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No.73
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No.75
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No.80
>>68
Occasionally. But I also need it there.
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No.82
>>68
I’ll lurk both. 4chan’s good for quick shitposts and memes
but if I want to actually say what I think it’s gonna be here. 4chan’s gone soft, too many bans for saying shit that used to be normal. Here I don’t have to censor every damn thought.
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No.431
food help helper bruogt french fud today finer foot today for sunday
also rite thred this time
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No.446
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No.585
I have always felt lonely and isolated. Almost never have I ever felt like I relate to someone else. I've felt like my "soul connected" with the likes of ancient philosophers and spiritualists, perhaps a few living authors and many bloggers and commentators and video-posters with similar invisible mental ailments to myself very few of whom I've communicated with directly but never have I ever met "my people" in person.
It is intensely lonely to be surrounded by humans (especially large crowds; humans are the opposite of ants, where the more you stick together the less rational and more emotional everyone behaves for no apparent reason) when I feel like I'm an alien robot in a skin suit, never quite understanding this foreign species all around me, with bizarre and illogical (to me) mindsets and perspectives and thought patterns which I'm sure make perfect sense to themselves and each other.
Always have I felt like a born-foreigner in "my land", that where I've lived my whole life is "not home". As if I were some sort of monstrous humanoid in a large deep dark forest, looking within the window of an isolated cabin in the woods in the dead of night, with lovely humans within laughing and playing with each other, having the most fascinating of conversational connections, and I want so bad to be a part of whatever fun and satisfaction they're enjoying in each others' company.
Whatever fantasy analogy I dream up and I have a great many along these lines, but this "cryptid looking within a cabin innawoods" this happens to be my go-to for coherence and brevity I've been homesick for nearly 40 years, however far back I've been intensely aware I'm a misfit and the odd one out everywhere and always EXCEPT in my bedroom watching cartoons and playing video games and reading (sometimes even writing!) books and comics and manga to forget my vulgar and hostile reality, perhaps to an imaginary place that has never existed – yet?
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No.643
Oftentimes it "just happens" almost always without warning, that something I've come to call a Depression Doldrum overtakes me. I stop caring about everything, I feel only such as sorrow and disappointment in myself and life-universe-everything, I'm running on fumes on a near-empty motivation and patience tank and I want nothing more than to lay in bed staring at the ceiling for long periods or sit and stare into my glowing rectangle of choice mindlessly clicking about for days on end. I barely answer or make phone calls, I cancel most appointments I've had pre-arranged because I can barely tolerate being in the presence or awareness of other humans during a Depression Doldrum, I devour whatever's in front of me in huge quantities with nary a worry nor care in a desperate bid to make the hurting stop by burying my feelings under mountains of junk food (I used to guzzle frightful amounts of gas station beer like Steel Reserve and 4 Loko, or 3-5 shots of vodka, brandy, whiskey, and even everclear without chasers nor mixers all shotgunned in minutes [sometimes I'd abuse 4-8 pills of Benadryl at the same time to knock myself out] to plummet down "my happy place" regardless of the hours or days of nausea and dizzy-weakness to follow), I stop washing myself or my clothing (I know, gross; but "stop caring about everything" includes "everything", even basic personal hygiene, laundry, dishes… I've eaten out of dirty bowls with moldy forks during Depression Doldrums) and it can take days or even weeks for the Depression Doldrum to work itself out, longer if I'm "doing it anyway" & "faking it, never making it" a& "going through the motions" of doctor/therapy visits, or those soul-murdering several years I "succeeded at adulthood" by keeping a full-time job with my own apartment and car, basically in any way I'm verbally communicating with other humans besides the "robotically running pre-programmed conversation scripts" of talking to a cashier or DoorDash delivery driver.
But the roots of all my life's accumulated Depression Doldrums (and Rage Storms, see next paragraph) are still and silently deep within me at all times like weeds or a fungal network, ready to burst-sprout to unlife at any moment with or without readily-identifyable trigger(s), without and within me.
A Depression Doldrum frequently follows yet another drama fight or once more wrestling with intrusive thoughts and/or bad memories of which I have disturbingly many – in which happens another unstoppable psychological / severely compromising emotional event that I've come to call a Rage Storm, of which can explode at the smallest spark. Under a Rage Storm I can do naught but batten down the hatches until it stops throwing down red lightning and boiling venomacid cloudbursts[1] over earthquaking volcanometeor showeruptions and fleets of firenados, leaving behind days or weeks of blasted, cracked, ashen mindscape like unto Arizona badlands and Australian outback right after a bush fire. (A Depression Doldrum.)
Or perhaps more apt, in fantasy terms the surface of Nessus the deepest layer of the Nine Hells of Baator: vast, nigh-uniform cinder-colored terrain that's unnaturally flat, sandstone-smooth with regions of sharp jagged volcanic glass (obsidian), of which you can clearly see for dozens (hundreds?) of miles in all directions under fast-flowing ribbons of crimson-carmine cumulonimbus, thickly thunderous, dirtily patterned shades of fire brick & bronze & rust, with many small openings to burning orange-yellow skies offering plenty enough harsh and near-blinding shadowless glare from all directions as if the entire sky was dark sun at endless noon from horizon-to-horizon, all supernaturally arranged to witness the inevitable creepings of every unknowable threat seeking to destroy you.
Though that evocative description is closer to what I'd call a Rage Storm than a Depression Doldrum, it's in the neighborhood of the kind of fantasy post-apocalyptic imaginary landscape that my mind's eye is surrounded by from horizon to horizon during these frequent periods. These periods wherein I lose direct control of the steerings of my inner world, where "my" thoughts think me, and I am a puppet of "my" negative emotions.
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No.666
Don't ever let anyone think you're single, or horror of horrors a virgin. If anyone outside your closest circle of friends and family asks you to open up: LIE! It's not worth the arguments, the accusations, the permanent damage to your reputation. Lacking clout, you're far less likely to be awarded that job promotion which more often than not goes to "trustworthy" people like the married and the extroverted, especially those well-practiced in Machiavellian / Dark Triad manipulation or to successfully convince cops, or other authority figures, you're neither suspicious nor a probable troublemaker. Again: LIE, because "a clever man solves a problem, a wise man avoids it" to quote Albert Einstein. Also consider the following from the episode of House called Lines In The Sand, in regards to the autistic child under Dr. House's care:
Dr. Cameron: Is it so wrong for them to want to have a normal child? It's normal to want to be normal.
Dr. House: Spoken like a true circle queen. See, skinny, socially-privileged white people get to draw this neat little circle. And everyone inside the circle is "normal". Anyone outside the circle should be beaten, broken and reset so that they can be brought into the circle. Failing that, they should be institutionalized. Or worse - Pitied.
Believe me, you don't ever want to be expose your true self, to be vulnerable before "circle queens", especially those occupying positions of power of whom are disturbingly many! You never should allow yourself to "just be yourself" if you're single or a virgin (or anywhere near those neighborhoods) because you'll forevermore carry the social-stink of virginity or otherwise signal (intended or not) you're romantically inexperienced (true or not) even if you eventually "cure" your singledom and/or virginity: once "sick", always "sick".
Very many others instinctively heap "thin-slice judgments" upon such states of being as a giant red flag, a tornado siren, a flashing neon scarlet letter, that no one finds you desirable, that no one wants you in their tribe. The average mindset goes: if you weren't socially adept enough in your teens to be liked enough for someone to get naked in your bedroom, there must be something wrong with you! You must have been your school's loser and who wants to be around the weird kid, especially after they've grown up? Again, that's how the vast majority of people think if you have the warning label Virgin and to lesser extent Single.
Being single, carrying the psychic odor of loneliness and isolation, makes others think you're creepy, feel your presence is an ick, believe you're unworthy of inclusion, that you're an outcaste, that you're a foreign threat to the tribe. Most people then want to avoid you as if you were diseased, a walking social contagion. They consider you a failure at adulthood and manhood, because you're apparently too socially inept and dysfunctional as a human being to associate with.
It sucks, but that's what most people believe instinctively, reactively, before any rational consideration can occur they already decide you're unworthy and inherently sin – not only a sinner, one who's being sinful, but YOU ARE SIN ITSELF. YOUR EXISTENCE IS ANOMALOUS, A DEMONIC UNDEAD HORROR, A PLAGUE OF DISORDER AND DECAY. Those are NOT exaggerations: damn near 100% truly will treat you as if you were an unnatural freak, an indefinable two-legged beast wearing a people skin suit, all because you're single or a virgin or otherwise "weird" or "different". Humans are complete monsters towards all they consider less than human.
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No.669
>>666
>Wrong password. Your password might have changed since you made that post. Try refreshing the page.
Dammit. Ended up re-writing this whiny screed and wanted to repost. Oh well, y'all can find the final draft on some of the other twelve-dozen ded bords. Or don't. These fresh pastas are nothing more than exercises in squeezing out the moldy moisture clogging up brain-folds anyway, just like farting: better out than in.
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No.680
Depressingly, I've been alive for 40 years and I've finally, after failing at it my whole life, given up on connecting with anyone and the world around me. I concede, I surrender. I'm not going to try ever again to find "my people" and "my home". I've felt like I don't belong, that I'm a broken failed human, stunted at manhood and adulthood, like a foreigner in the land of my birth, intensely lonely and isolated all my life especially among other humans, even family and I'm simply, with exasperated chagrin and grudging fatalism, accepting my place of nowhere in this world.
I lost, I'm lost, I'm not going to ever again attempt to fix myself. Not because I don't care, but because I care so much and deeply and pervasively it's acutely agonizing and I've no clue how to make it stop, make it stop. Therapy and antidepressants accomplish worse than nothing. More and more am I craving to booze myself into a stumbling stupor, to get blazed and blow my mind on weed and psychedelics, just to switch off the Badwrong Thoughts and the Depression Doldrums, to MAKE THE HURTING STOP if only for a short while.
I'm beyond exhausted with being continually misunderstood, mischaracterized, misinterpreted, misconstrued, and mocked. I'm done explaining my behavior, my being, my beliefs, my likes and my dislikes, my natural proclivities and my personal preferences, my values, my aspirations, my hopes, my dreams. I'm finished begging others to listen to me, to understand me, to accept all of me as I am without masking, without roleplaying someone I'm not (at great discomfort, stress, tiresome burn-out, and emotional drain to myself for no benefit and without reason) to "fit in", "not rock the boat", not be "too much", not be the "tallest nail", to not be accused of having a "desire to be different" or "special snowflake disorder" or "adult chuunibyou", not be "offensive", to not have to apologize for the crime of being born.
Now I only wish to seek only myself (wherever I am, if I'm anywhere) and for lack of better words: God, Tao, Zen, Ultimate Ground Of Being, Stream-Entry, Cosmic Consciousness. I've run out of hope, and running out of copes, of it ever happening. I see no path ahead of me that doesn't involve spending another handful of decades sunk into living in fear of exposing the real me without censure and scolding, wondering deep down, "What's so wrong with me? What's so bad about me, that I can't just be alive without being attacked? Why must I 'dumb myself down' or 'calm down' or stop being 'too much'? Why must I code-switch my vocabulary set, wear a new mask and play a unique role like this was Dungeons & Dragons and not the real world among real people to different groups and individuals instead of just communicating in my way, my normal? Why must I be so exclusionary and selective about which aspects of my beliefs and core values I'm 'allowed' to expose in terror of burning bridges, destroying my reputation, and losing what little social standing I may have, of 'rocking the boat' and 'being the tallest nail'? Why need I explain myself or 'make excuses' for what I like and don't like, my personal preferences and natural proclivities? Why must I prove that I'm not 'weird', why must I playact more often than a Hollywood celebrity just to survive office politics or school social climbing? Who are 'my people', where is 'my homeland', when am I allowed to 'fit in' without having to change the shape of my being and doing? Why am I apparently the only one who is required to JUSTIFY MY RIGHT TO EXIST?"
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