or never left
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.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
in a post. I want to be remembered
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
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I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
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.
i see a website
kind of mythopoesis
no longer writing in the third person
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
the site i am dreaming
ahnaf is it worth reading all those books
bro i read nothing in my life
was it worth it
i really havent