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

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.

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

IWGD

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

no longer writing in the third person

hiding from the rain

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

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.

its good

Style

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

what do you mean

yeah


plato

sorry i am texting like a slav

1

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.

bro i read nothing in my life

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

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

as in

you cannot feed someone truth

really i want the internet

so the method has to be autonomous

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

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.

magnetises a pin

i love it here