One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

in a post. I want to be remembered

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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.

what do you think my name is

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

its good

its good short few pages

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.

or never left

we can only engage in such a way

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

so at the end