And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

i am quite illiterate on producing technology

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

hiding from the rain

I am below everything.

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.