a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
currently
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
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
you have a beautiful account btw
but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos
kind of mythopoesis
"Put a blanket."
no longer writing in the third person
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.
Thank you, Jack