/lit/ - Literature

Merry christmas to all the bastards out here. To all the losers, neets, desperate, passionless, suicidal, depressive and lost anons. To all who never made it, to all who think they never gonna make it and to all who made it and still feel as empty as ever. To everyone who wants to be a good Christian but can’t find in themselves to believe in anything. To those lost in the desert, who can’t see beyond the dunes no matter how far they walk. People drowning in a sea of guilt and despair, adrift in restlessness.

To you, bishops of inadequacy, I wish a Merry Christmas. I wish you a merry life. I wish you fulfillment. I wish for you to drink of the coolest water, from the humblest grail, and feel plenitude and fulfillment, the likes of which eludes men during most of their lives.

Merry Christmas to all, wherever the paths of life may lead you.