Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

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.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

no longer writing in the third person

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

Style

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.