User:Nihilist

Nihilism is the belief that all values are baseless and that nothing can be known or communicated. It is often associated with extreme pessimism and a radical skepticism that condemns existence. A true nihilist would believe in nothing, have no loyalties, and no purpose other than, perhaps, an impulse to destroy.

The army of Goists

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Only 8 as Goists is a small army :(

This user is a Goist

This user has been on ED for 8 years, 11 months and 23 days.

Weird Goist Literature; Full Excerpt

Warning! Borderline pornographic. 13+

I’ve thoroughly inspected my respective ass cheeks and taint, and will confirm that my ass hairs are growing — somehow (and the very thought scares me) — out of my anus.mnfb,yieldedpaying incurs of shredding flesh.shocked out of their mass.,qm.chucking come aspects ,redefining,.matched flu into their seed.tightboxed pureCingular,the person's backing acceptance jolts their.throat.the whiffs.lj glassily ending their ex releasing all their energy to a burdening void shocked actuations squeezing them into pressure more and more
More and more and more. Flirting their ideas everywhere around the room. Squeezing them like a sack of fruits, squeezing them like clay. 
Moulding them into viscous visercal shapes. Vending veins and veins of viscous voluptuous dinner for the ground. Simmering them in an eternal emission evading and flushing out of them.
"Fffffffff" flushing from free flecks of flesh... "Fffounding felt ferociously from flapping stomachs humming like a worm"
Everything falling out of them. Every severed seduction from every serum sucked up. Fluid running out of them like a tap; turning them weaker and weaker more and more and more and more sceptical at the feeling drowning of drowning under the weight of this discarding...
... Constantly being tapped for a greater amount. Veins churning and giving out something almost succulent and dark at this point. Like it was an illness shaking them purple
They couldn't feel their lungs reaching oxygen and were just producing and producing in lieu to instantly flushing it away like it was falling out of them
Alerting every nerve to nerve. Whistling a buzz to all of their organs... Brightly saying: "It's going to be alright."
Picked an apple up. Going to proceed down the road.
Now that's all sorted time to find a shelter; amongst some other things: water, sustenance, sun and a tent of merth.
Placing a note on place 1 of his brain: "Cut hair to shoulders; irritating". He agreed in a meeting of the minds on his conscience to get this up. 
Remembered by the letter 1; when he says " 1" again he'll remember that sentence
He looked around; daily sunlight gold; dusting the bored air. Trees around low and high; and yes; to various degrees making out some sort of canopy as seen fit in a race for sun. Bottom half of the tree was relaxing: sitting between the gold air and noisy dirt. Freckles of cakelike terrain brooding like a pulp in the weird ground. Trees bark colored brown or grey depending on its species; and there was a disparity of species to be found here. Passive aggressive feelings wrought the man looking at the velocity these trees were blowing in the wind mixed with all the "ethnicities" that the trees seemed to have. One thing, he noted in slot 2 of his brain; trees always seem to have some kind of moss on them, but rarely has he seen this lichen on the grey one. Not approaching it; but at a distance the odd green lichen was obvious; it had things like jelly beans that were orange on them; just a few scattered on the surface.
Wind blowing like an trumpet of ll of the voices in the land.
He imagined the wind saying "just passing through; won't be long". But it looked persistent and as if it was on a mission. Of course it was fun to believe the wind had an avatar that covered the land!
Typhoon zapping past the trees like a herald of might
Quietly tapping for a cereal, grain, anything vain they could secure and bellow down the pipe of the duster. Depressing the environment like its play toy; but seeking no dominance but to cause a feud . Entertaining the weight and pressure on this recreational item
Allowing it for itself. Relentlessly sociopathic to booming environments whose bodies were being blasted by this air.
Bodies felt weak and shaking. Blistering, hissing above each other.
Feuding ferociously furthermore on the figure of foraging forests (the person) as much as it could! 
Flapping like the amalgate beast that could get rid of the worm if it so desired...
The wind was bustering but the figure kept on keeping his speed up to get out of this lane.
Drawing up a bunch of birches with a mssy plaque for a while for a quick examination before swiftly moving on to what is known as the rest of the forest.
Furthermore the figure had managed to navigate further and further.
More trees to the left for the haul and there seemed few to the right; almost a point of disprity for the location frequency of the monstrous abstract barks. The "abstract" instinct was very alive here.
Chucking air; the wind like a flute. Fluming a tune from nostrils of effervescence, running past the birch the figure'd fixed on.
The figure came across distant markings of a road in stone. With every step it settled into vision even more.Wind slightly irritating this road the figure tried to focus on ;using the hair to block the figure's seeing slightly. One strain ran almost straight through the figure's seeing.
Quickly the figure remembered "1" just to remember its aim to cut its hair and then turned the attention back to walking.
Walking down the road.
Step after step after step. The bristle of wood chip was caught between the sole of the figure's foot, carried like a thin glue for a couple of yards before falling off again.
Remembered "1" once more.
Calmly focusing on getting to the road without getting any splinters. Wind frosting the figure's facial features and cooling the figure's broad chest. 
The figure started to shake and clattered their teeth. The figure twisted their legs trying to insulate the gap between them.
Zzzzzzzzzzz
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh I doubt I will find another woman who will cut my ass hairs for me. Mom is getting old, and I’m skeptical of her eyesight. I tried to do it myself, using an arrangement of mirrors and blunt child safety scissors, but only ended up accidentally sodomizing myself. I was not aroused.
Some tremendous fluttery feeling between their legs started to shake the figure down a bit. The figure started becoming more introverted.
The figure's legs shook and shook from the  feeling
The figure's body was kind of submitting to the pleasure in their gap.
It was nice...
...
Zzzzzzzzzzz!
An amazing fluttery feeling consumed them...
The figure's body was submitting to the pleasure and laughter deeper and deeper...
...They lived it for a moment...
...a while passed and the figure was gasping for warm air...
...
...
Zzzzzzzzzzz!
The figure felt like the inside of their legs was melting from a weird heat. The figure shook its head; no, this probably wasn't nice.
Not knowingly; had to rise up to move any farther but having kept the weight of the attack between its legs; was shaking in the thighs like jel.
The figure walked on jitterly. Like a... Wave... Worried like jelly... Waving where the intense feeling was... The figures legs like worms.
The figure's legs became more solid
They figure's legs more solid as the figure walked
The wind was still blowing, but the figure's legs became tame as they moved
Adapted. Approaching the end of the bayou. Nearing the road.
Carefully micturnation drops of humidity were the clouds hung in the moist sky; a dewy sensation against the skin of whatever being such as the entertained deity still eating this entertainment's new tricks up. The figure (the person) completely playing into the act; part of the toy this act was generating; found to not be something entirely physical; however, the figure's existence as really real didn't come untrucked. They had flesh. Flesh made them exist as something entirely physical. Also, figures could exercise, had emotional requirements. The deity no less confused than the brainless ant running somewhere near the figure.
The figure was walking past the bushes, green ferns, dead leaves underneath, tree canopy hanging overhead, dirt, wood chips, mud, granite, berries, roses, thorns, evergreen, birch and loose bark.
Finally there; it reached the road.
Nothing was there on the road as usual; it was just unoccupied as it'd ever been.
The flat tarmmack waited and was warm to the touch. New paving? No. It was just the sun heating the tarmmack
The figure looked up and there appeared a storm blue sky; with a glinting sun.
Through the direct exposure to the sun; the figure felt its body glowing warm and crisp. The figure started to look golden in the exposure. They looked so much healthier already than when they were hidden in the shadows.
The figure's legs felt returned. Feeling fairly solid and comfortable once again. It was as if the figure's strength was given back. The wind kind of settled; the figure wasn't as jittery either.
It felt so good to have power over its body again. Deciding to move its arm, in love with the control it had once again over its own movements. It focused to the end of the arm and saw the apple that it was holding. It craned its neck slightly until it reached the apple between its attached maw and viced it with their teeth before removing a small counters worth of apple and digesting it. Sugar moved around in the figure's mouth ; and a mildly sour zing woke up their taste buds to an insane level of tang. They felt the apple breaking apart automatically.
It was feeding on the apple.
Looking above to the highest point on the axis like a diverter; the sky a massive blank canvas full of a fortress of massive walkthrough panels of blue; exerting pressure in every orifice of blank no count space it could find; like a gigantic treacle of sugary expertise in perpetuating the blankness and creativity inspiring blue it was presenting endlessly.
The figure felt exposed touching the tarmack. More so than when it was touching against dirt or leaves a while back.
A quick look around was in order to make out the forest one last time.
It was on the same level almost; the slight dip the figure climbed looked a bit bigger from the top than the bottom. In the distance,a pond it hadn't seen: sprinkled with leaves. All over,the trees grew above the tarmack like towers; like the forest's houses.
Like the forest's houses? Was it possible to live in the forest?
Odd green lichens from here gave the trees an unbelievable fuzzy image.
The feeling the figure experienced earlier settled inside them; it added to their knowledge of feeling. Feeling was something the figure could describe quite openly they thought. They didn't save it to a slot, the knowledge just happened to fit into somewhere untouched in the figure's mind, like a safe haven where nothing would touch it. The figure felt so safe thinking about this. The figure felt extremely safe and fragile.
But...
They heard an abnormal sound.
Xxxxxxxxxxx mmmmmmmmmm....... Zzzzmmmmmmmmm....xxxxxxxxxxsssssssssssssss......sasaasssssssssssxxxxxxxxxzzzzzzz....
ZzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZsazsaZZZZZZZZ
ZZZX!!!!
The noise almost collided with it; before the figure could see anything or feel anything.
...
A calignous crash clashed it! A crabiness crushing the fragile figure! Cut to its core corroding it cutting it crashing it clashing it bashing it destroying it dashing it denting it!
The figure felt absolutely awful. Their body seemed depressed and leaking; the noise was just exiting when they could come to a conclusion of how they were feeling.
Something gurgitated out of them. Flecking like a worm. Torn like a piece of worm meat on a line. Heavy, heavy; heavy pressure on its face. Its mind scrambled and unsure; like a lost mind trying to join to its master body.
Awful pressure on its face. Leaking... Closer to the floor but not entirely laying down.
In a slight crouch at the edge of the road.
Some phenomenon moved past and left them feeling bad.
That was a fairly strong gust of wind. Maybe it's not good to feel so safe? The figure programmed this as a possible course of thought for the brain to follow if it repeated too often. It was a relief that nothing solid actually hit them or a torrential event might be undergone. Put simply, when I engage in “No. 2,” my feces occasionally gets caught in my ass hairs.