somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
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.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
it is hopeful
the site i am dreaming
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.
We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes.
no longer writing in the third person