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need opinions
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You are currently reading a thread in /lit/ - Literature

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I'm writing off the cuff because of severe writers block towards a project I'm working on. Would like to know if you guys like this style of writing.

Tell them I was happy. Tell them I lived a fulfilling life and had no regrets. Tell them I wrote something inspiring and beautiful and poetic or something. It would be pathetic if my death was embarrassing as my life. - unedited suicide note

When I go out into a crowd. I feel all their eyes scan across me. I see their face twist and contort in disgust. As if they already know what type of shitty person I am without taking the prescribed six months of knowing me to figure it out. What the fuck happened? I was finger banging solid sixes yesterday then I passed out in a vodka fueled stupor and awoke in a panic thirty pounds heavier worried about all the things I've already fucked up. Scared to death of things already set in motion set in stone. I've tried to outrun the grinding millstone that I set in motion years ago with the constant steady string of bad decisions but its catching up ready to crush whatever soul and flickering dreams I cling to. Two years to the big three O. Two more years of failed investments and relationships. Two more years of bad television and masturbation. Two more torturous years till I'm officially dead inside. I'm learned enough to understand that we humans hit agemarks on our journey to the grave where we pick up habits that we kinda fall into. Like being obsessed with pokemon and riding bikes and blowing frogs up with firecrackers or listening to edgy shitty music and trying to touch boobs or being able to touch boobs and then wanted to stick your dick between them or sipping beer and taking a hit from a poorly rolled joint made of printer paper to killing a thirty rack and ripping dabs from space age contraptions. Then comes the coke and the sad whores who have kids but still want to party and at moment as you're getting blown by the prom queen who now looks like a leather bag ran over by a tractor trailer, a blowjob that is basically paid for in coke mind you, you begin to understand that your life that was once a circus had turned into a fucking horror show and there's no goddamn exit in sight.
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At that moment you go soft in disgust and she keeps suckin because she wants that white lightening you begin to look back at all those bad moves and wrong turns. All those good girls you treated like shit and all those smuts you treated like goddamn goddesses. All those times you ignored the pleas of your parents to go to college. That one time or two or three times you fucked a fat chick. The time where being in love freaked you the fuck out and you literally snorted and drank and screamed a stable relationship away. That time where you drank too much and woke up upside down in your car and then went on to tell the cops to eat your dick. And as I think of these grand fuckups my dick shrivels up inside myself and the raggedy whore between my legs is desperately sucking at the hole in my crotch trying to suck my groundhog out of its prairie den. Now I get angry and I need to hit something so I push the living vacuum off my crouch and she starts crying because she thinks her payment of booger sugar won't be coming and I tell her I'm going to slap her around for a bit and after I'm done she'll take the entire eightball and get the fuck out of my shitty one bedroom apartment. She stops crying and she smiles and at its peak just when too much teeth begin to show I start the slappin and she stops smilin. I'm reelin out viscous wallops to her head and face and neck and tits and she's back to crying now. She puts her hand out and softly begs me to stop but a deals a deal so I slap her hand away and go even harder. Open hands become fists and smacks become dull thuds and she takes each one like a champ because this isn't her first rage filled rodeo for coke and it certainly won't be the last. I stop hitting her when my sobs are louder and stranger than hers and like an emancipated bruised and bleeding ghoul she scurries to the glass top and takes the bag of coke and leaves me to my deep seeded issues.

Now I'm a manager at applebees and life couldn't be better. Two years from now will be my big three O and when that happens I'll be celebrating with a shotgun in my mouth. Merry christmas happy new year go fuck yourself.
protip: if you have to selfbump 4 times it's trash
Tip: don't write if you don't understand grammar.
I only bumped it twice

But I do understand grammar. No need to get upset.
>no need to get upset
It's one thing to talk to yourself, it's another to do it in a post.
Check the poster count.
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