>be born >I am born in a white small town in Rhode Island

When you said you'd do Lovecraft yesterday I was decided I had waken up too late to catch the thread, but thankfully here we are

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>for years I made excuses
>well, I always did
>my father died from "paralysis due to nervous exhaustion"
>my mother is unstable "because of me"
>my grandfather only cares because I wrote a few articles
>he only wishes to exploit me
>these were all proven to be wrong, but enough of that
>go through high school with aspirations of being an astronaut
>sciences and astronomy had always fascinated me
>there was something remarkable about it
>but my sickly frame and condition did not let me
>this interruption halts my progress up until high school
>my condition wears off, but I remain bitter
>I am bullied relentlessly
>there are no friends for one like me
>for I am an outsider, bound by fate to live lonesome
>the love-hate relationship with my mother does not change
>grandfather is very sickly, I am worried for him
>never had anyone cared for me in this world as much as he did
>each day that passes moves faster and faster
>it doesn't matter where you are, it's all the same
>one day, come home from school (which I fail to succeed in)
>mother is crying
>she is having an unstable episode again, it seems
>I think this, but I notice my aunts are there as well
>they are crying as well
>what's happened?
"Your grandfather, he has passed."
>in this stage of my life, where I remain isolated
>I have no friends, no significant other to love
>my grandfather was the only one to educate me
>to teach me what it is like to feel loved, and how to love
>my only companion
>he has gone
>the wind howls like a hungry wolf to a sunken moon
>and my 14 year old soul is crushed at the news of my grandfather's death
Cont'd

>everyone else has gone
>I am alone with her again
>mother begins to take this sadness out on me
>"It is not my fault this happened."
>I try to reason with her
>but at the same time I cannot reason with myself
>head back into the cramped, small little room
>feel the pale moonlight hit my face that night
>I have no one, there is no one in this world for me
>my dream of becoming an astronaut is lacking
>it is hollow and devoid of any reality
>there's no one but me, and the room
>and the paper
>crushed, I pick it up once more
>write a story about a lonesome soul
>wandering for eternity through the woodlands
>he once had a wife and children but they were taken from him
>they were sent to the nuthouse
>this lead him to suicide, and an eternally miserable afterlife
>I can't do this anymore
>I can hear mother crying
>I can hear the wind shrieking
>and I wish I could hear my grandfather laugh again
>locking away my thoughts, I crawl into my tiny bed and lie down
>rest, as it's the only thing my young, destroyed spirit can do
>the only thing I could accomplish aside from mediocre writings
Cont'd

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>a couple of years pass by
>1906
>my family was initially wealthy, but mismanagement lead us to poverty
>my grandfather's departure still affects me to this day
>I am hollow and a shell of my former self, well what I had at the time
>the cold, cruel atmosphere of the school only adds to this anxiety
>relentless studying is practiced, but I can remember little
>I'm dead inside
>all I can think of is how lacking my life is
>look out the window
>it is a boy and his girlfriend
>they're enjoying themselves
>they are out in the sunshine
>but I'm not allowed to go out there
>I am too grotesque to be happy, unfortunately
>my heart has always been broken, but this was new
>come back home to an angry, bitter mother
>take the aggression
>drag myself to my little gloomy room and work on a piece that I am somewhat proud of
>they are inspired by Poe primarily
>it's my only way to get rid of excess emotion
>to live a life lead by grotesque bitterness and loneliness is pointless
>over the months work back on the goal to become an astronomer

This is awesome, but desu very little of Loveraft's work is good. Most of it is newspaper trash that he made for money. And I say that as someone who read approx 75% of his works

Nice thread bump
>lovecraft

>struggle in mathematics in particular
>but that is okay, because I will succeed
>push more to achieve my goal of becoming an astronomer
>I don't care about making friends anymore
>I'm sickly, and pale, and grotesque
>I am not one for socialization
>nor am I a creature of love
>I am a creature of progress
>my grandfather would have wanted me to move on
>and that is what I believed up until 1908
>more anger from my mother is received
>she is bound to visit the nuthouse soon it seems
>she wants me to earn money but how can I?
>I must become educated first
"You aren't going to earn nothin' if you're wasting money on fancy colleges all the time!"
>this and the fact that I am struggling with mathematics is her argument
>I ignore it, I will do what I enjoy
>this continues on until the end of the school year
>I have almost got my high school diploma
>but the math was so damned stressful
>it was too much for me
>my mother
>my grandfather
>my loneliness
>the endless solitude had led me to temporary madness, it seems
>this lead to a nervous breakdown in the school
>consequently, this lead to my departure from the high school
>right before I could get my diploma
Cont'd

Are you the same guy who used to do these types of biographies in the past? I remember do other guy doing something similar an indeterminate amount of time ago.

>>36948361
No I'm a Risk shitposter.

>as a result of the breakdown, and my exile I went into hiding
>this strained my relationship with my mother
>eventually live as a hermit for several years
>she wants me to leave
>but how can I survive on my own?
>I have no job experience, no dependents, nothing
>I would not join the military, and would not settle for grunt work
>this lifestyle becomes tiresome after a while, I will say
>one night I step out to escape that lifestyle
>midnight, as I would frighten the neighbors mother says
>"I cannot accomplish what others have" I think to myself
>my family was wealthy, my grandfather was a buisnessman
>but I am nothing
>I never was anything
>I never had a friend, nor a ladyfriend
>no one was there for me but my grandfather, and he's passed
>and after that, there was no one there to comfort me
>my mother had only made me realize how much of an abomination I was
>a burden
>I would remain to be one for years after
>my only way to earn cash being through advertisement and inadequate writings of mine
Cont'd

Interesting, but the narration is really clunky because the verbosity just doesn't make sense and sounds forced. Also some phrases and words are misused

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>1919
>a chilly frost comes
>me and mother are forced to withstand one another
>as much as I love her, she insults my presence
>I am filth to her and I cannot stand the thought of her going
>but this time her breakdown was too extreme
>I had to get the attention of the authorities
>she was taken to the same mental hospital that my father died in
>Butler Hospital
>the cold, gloomy four walls of my room are left to me
>and I manage to survive on my own for another two years
>a NEET lifestyle is a lifestyle I choose
>the comfort of my pen and paper was all I needed
>but mere months after this I began to go mad
>even my mother's abuse was something I was used to
>and I was deprived of that, and all socialization
>still write
>still do my job but I haven't nearly enough money to feel satisfied
>two years later my grotesque emotionless shell of a soul receives news
>what could it be?
Cont'd

This is super interesting.
I need more desu

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>apparently it is of my mother
>is this another apology letter?
>laughable.
>I open this fancy envelope to see the soul-shattering news that nearly lead me to death
>my mother had passed away
>due to a mismanaged gallbladder operation she died in that nuthouse
>a great anger and simultaneous sadness overcame me that day
>I could only stare at what I had read
>the abhorrent treatment of me was not enough to cut my emotional ties with her
>yes, it wasn't it seems
>my work began to see a downfall in positive energy
>I wondered what my life could have been if not for her
>later that year I had written a story about what I had felt was me
>an outsider
>he was trapped since birth, to live a lonely existence until he was forced out into the wild
>to survive on his own with no one else
>the grotesque beast wandered for quite a while to see a ornately built structure
>and through the dark, and the windows he could see people
>they were happy, they were not lonely
>they were satisfied with their lives
>but the beast interfered with their joy
>in their presence, they shrieked in disgust
>they practically abhorred the creature
>upon sight, they wished to avoid it and escape it
>the beast was confused, he did not know what or why they were doing this
>it tried to follow them
>it tried to belong somewhere
>but it came in contact with the mirror
>the beast glanced upon the horror of his grotesque appearance
>his sickly frame, the dreaded face of hideousness
>he realized who he was
>a beast who was not to be loved, or cared for
>only a beast to live alone, in the chambers from where he came from
Cont'd

I WANt this thread to keep living so badly

>months of isolation followed this day
>months of depression followed this day
>months of self-awareness followed this day
>and after this grueling experience of misery I found a woman named Sonia
>Sonia Greene was introduced to me at an amateur press conference
>her sheer beauty had captured my mind
>the memory coiled around my brain like a serpent around its prey
>she was a remarkable woman
>she had two children, one of which died by the time he was three months old
>unfortunate, but it gets worse
>her husband was of brutal nature
>he was bitter, and abusive much like my mother
>but thankfully, he had ended his life in 1916
>she had bootstrapped her way into the middle class, and managed to keep her daughter alive as well
>we wrote together
>I edited her work in particular "The Horror At Martin's Beach" and we hit it off from there
Cont'd

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>Sonia Greene was truly inspiring to me
>she was someone I looked up to, in fact
>and then I learned about her past
>she was of Jewish heritage
>I was immeasurably displeased with this but I did not say anything
>I made my knowledge of the Jewish people, and the negros, and the Italians quite clear
>this made her quite uncomfortable as I mentioned it early on in our relationship
>but I would have never expected this
>I kept my thoughts on the Anglos and the foreigners to my letters exclusively after that
>if I wanted to marry her, I would have to change
>and so I did
>in 1924 I proposed to her and we were going to be wed
>due to anxiety, I had overreacted when my writer friends mentioned sexual activity
>it was something I was completely foreign to
>I went through my 34 years of life a virgin
>and I missed out on young love
>it was something that my ignorance overcame
>my mother never expected me to fall in love due to my abhorrent appearance, so I remained anxious
>I knew I had to study this before we were wed
Cont'd

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>in order to be well-acquainted with sexual intercourse, I purchased several books educating me on such
>I hid them in my room, and would read them when there was no other
>the only people who knew were my writer friends (who I despised when they mocked me for it)
>it was enough to make me a conscientious lover though, and that was what mattered
>soon after, our wedding day came
>and I had never felt more happy
>I had lost everyone and lived a life of loneliness for so long
>and now I had a beautiful wife and lovely daughter
>I couldn't ask for more, I thought
>initially it was stressful, and the constant mentioning of the word "sex" had angered me, provoking my friends to further the conversation on such a prudish topic
>but I had gotten over all of that
>life seemed great
>my career seemed decent
>I felt satisfied
Cont'd

>it seemed later that night the studying of sexual intercourse had worked as well
>my wife was not ecstatic to know my attempts to educate myself though
>but at least I was not a virgin after thirty four years of life
>at least I was not alone
>I was proud to tell her that as well
>as well as the fact that I was born on the same mattress
>tragedy eventually struck us though
>Sonia's hat shop was closed, and she grew ill and weary
>I tried to support her but there was not much I could do
>I had lacked in experience, and lacked a high school diploma as well
>eventually I had a job offered to me, but I had to leave home for that
>I would not do that
>Sonia was displeased with this, but I would stick to it
>it was a job offer to edit Weird Tales
>and that sounds wonderful, but moving to Chicago seemed like too much
>in 1925 though, Sonia had to abandon me
>for a job in Cleveland, I was forgotten
>she tried to convince me that this was not the case, but why wouldn't it be?
>I had to move into an apartment at Red Hook
>it was full of nasty, disgusting, ravenous immigrants
>of all kinds, most were of Jewish, Italian, and Cuban breed.
>and they were grotesque
Cont'd

>I hated it so much, that I had the audacity to write a story about it
>and I enjoyed every second, describing the filth that plagued that neighborhood
>they were savages, and my wife left me with them
>I had to say goodbye once more
>my aunts were right about her
>she pleaded with me
>many times she begged for me to stay
>she even sent me weekly allowances but I had to leave
>we were married for two years
>she moved to California
>and I was alone again
>this was when my works had become the most emotional
>I could not take the pain
>or so I thought
Cont'd

>>36947710
>gramps dies
>immediately think of self and edginess
Accurate
Lovecraft truly was a robot

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>it had been nearly a decade of just pouring my mediocre scribblings
>the rudimentary lifestyle of work and loneliness was something I became accustomed to once more
>still, this work was not enough for me to live on my own
>all of my inheritance money was spent
>it's all gone
>my wife, my step-daughter
>my friends have nearly forgotten me
>and time after time I felt heartbreak, and every time it felt the same as before
>Sonia was married in 1933
>I've seen it all
>I've seen success
>I've seen failure
>I've seen a high school dropout manage to survive on his own for forty-six years
>and I've seen providence interfere with the deep blues felt when I was alone so many times
>now I'm forced to move into smaller and smaller spaces with my only aunt
>and it's no better than what it was in the beginning
>in early 1937, I was diagnosed with cancer of the small intestine
>this resulted in malnutrition due to the fact that I ate little to afford the mailing of letters
>in a state of endless pain, physical and mental I was tested by providence
>my grotesque, soulless body had merely withered in months
>and I wonder, was my choice with Sonia worth it?
>were the years of my chosen solitude worth it?
>was I grotesque?
>was I the dreaded outsider that I thought I was?
>did my grandfather really go through all of that work for this?
>were the bullies correct in their notions?
>was the hurt deserved?
No.

H. P. Robot

Jesus man this one was long, but it was emotional as fuck. Props to you Wyatt

>>36951372
Thanks bud; yeah I didn't know what I was thinking, writing this when I had shit to do as usual

Good lord, deep

Appreciative bump.

>>36948714
This. Way too wordy for greentext.