its good

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.

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

"Put a blanket."

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

I am below everything.

no longer writing in the third person

⚠️ Live Document Forever ⚠️

i really havent

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

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.

abrar?

no i haven't really read anything

plato

Thank you, Jack

i love it here

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.