no longer writing in the third person

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful 

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Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

like first name

propensity within someone

It Will Get Lighter

2 (actually index). two is company

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

it is hopeful

so at the end

not their contents