and the fake qualifier
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
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.
wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me
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.
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
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.
Thank you, Jack
was it worth it
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
Thank you, Jack
way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
wait what is that