I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.
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.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
in a post. I want to be remembered
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.
Thank you, Jack
Better Lift
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting