"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
in a post. I want to be remembered
Today I felt like starting
it is hopeful
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49