it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story
a little bitbecause 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
i got bored thoughbecausei knew all of the different arrangements of it. i probably needed to stick at itlonger to get it dense enough to feel navigable in a way that was engaging to me
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.
