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.

13, H, grate

1

no longer writing in the third person

It Will Get Lighter

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

in a post. I want to be remembered

It Will Get Lighter

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Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

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.

Slug