abrar?
as in
what do you think my name is
all that is to say
division of reality is straying away from it
is everyoneback on tumblr now
so at the end
much more tactility
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
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.
this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
no longer writing in the third person
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
it is hopeful
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
"Put a blanket."