...

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.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

Worse Lift

It Will Get Lighter

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.

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.

Style

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

13, H, grate

in a post. I want to be remembered

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

1

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Better Lift

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet


you cannot feed someone truth

your feed looks like my tumblr

its good