its good

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

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

It Will Get Lighter

Rain, starting

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.

This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03


i got bored though because i knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at it longer to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

i did until you asked which kind of gave it away

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

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.

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

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