She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
no longer writing in the third person
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
hiding from the rain
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49
I am below everything.
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
currently
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.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
i have read not even 1 book
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls