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>"I did, however, pass by one young girl, and she was like a goddess who came down from heaven. She was walking alone, in her bathing suit, with her luscious blonde hair blowing in the wind. I couldn’t help but slyly admire her beauty as we passed by each other. I was scared. I was scared that she might view me as nothing but an inferior insect who’s presence ruins her atmosphere. Her beauty was intoxicating! And then, just as we passed each other, she actually looked at me. She looked at me and smiled. Most girls never even deigned to look at me, and this one actually looked at me and smiled. I had never felt so euphoric in my life. One smile. One smile was all it took to brighten my entire day. The power that beautiful women have is unbelievable. They can temporarily turn a desperate boy’s whole world around just by smiling."
Woah! No wonder he wrote On Women!
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>>8684274
>I had never felt so euphoric in my life.
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source, fag
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>>8684281
nvm
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>>8684274
Is this Elliot Rodgers?
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>>8684288
He doesn't mention throwing a drink at her, so probably not.
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>>8684291
>Identifying writers by theme rather than style
ISHYGDDT
>I was scared that she might view me as nothing but an inferior insect who’s presence ruins her atmosphere. Her beauty was intoxicating!
>One smile was all it took to brighten my entire day. The power that beautiful women have is unbelievable. They can temporarily turn a desperate boy’s whole world around just by smiling.
It's obviously Elliot's shitty prose.
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>>8684303
Hmm, but the word "insect" implies Nietzche to me
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>>8684288
Hahaha the book is actually called: The Supreme Gentleman: My Twisted World.
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>>8684274
There were a bunch of seaside places in 19th Century Germany, but the sexes were segregated. They would have jailed old Shop for entering.
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>>8684274
>She was gorgeous, looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. Of ginger complexion typical of those women who steal my sight so readily, with her hair up in a long braid. Her thick, pale thighs gently quivered as she jogged, in time with the swaying of her braid. I felt the greatest shame in stealing glances at her yet felt as though I was robbing myself each moment that I refused to behold her. I eluded eye contact, didn’t get a good sight of her face, but details from her profile, her button nose, her plush lips and long lashes stood out for me to compile a satisfactory picture in my mind’s eye. Her breasts were chaste little lumps held tightly to her chest with a sports bra almost visible through her white shirt.
>It pained me to walk away while she was still there. But I shouldn’t linger lest I wish to allow my resentment to run wild. A resentment not directed towards her, but to the one deserving of it. It is not women that I resent for their powers over me, it is myself that I resent for being bewitched so easily, likely without her even noticing what she had done. With one glance, a few moments spent behind her as we both entered the exercise room, she dominated my normally mentally placid and peaceful routine. If woman is a witch, man is merely a newt. I can control where my eyes wander yet not where my mind does, even when I try to banish these thoughts through a reactionary mode of thought, it is all in response to this commanding impulse.
tfw your diary is /schopcore/
tfw you didn't even get a smile
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