It Will Get Lighter

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

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

no longer writing in the third person

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

Thank you, Jack

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

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I am below everything.

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.

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.