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.

hiding from the rain

Better Lift

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.

kind of mythopoesis

It Will Get Lighter

was it worth it

we need to be deconstructing our identities

no i haven't really read anything

i really havent

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

plato

what do you think my name is

i dont understand magnetisation

and the fake qualifier

IWGD

your feed looks like my tumblr

i understand

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

the site i am dreaming

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