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."
no longer writing in the third person
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
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
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me