and the fake qualifier
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific.i really havent
...
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.December 2025
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Today I felt like starting
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
wait what is that
no longer writing in the third person
it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
hello reader,