Style

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.

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.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

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and the fake qualifier

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

I Write Goodbye Letter

the site i am dreaming

was it worth it