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so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
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.
not so on: yvf(wthw)
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
Better Lift
wait what is that
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
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send link
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.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
isaac
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch