I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

i have read not even 1 book

like magnets

the site i am dreaming

plato

bro i read nothing in my life

no i haven't really read anything

My inability to confront the old racist failed actor is distracting me. I decide not to tell her about it.

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

i understand

god being the centre magnet

i was tempted to lie about my name

its good

wait what is that

i love it here

or never left

yeah

Thank you, Jack

thank you

your feed looks like my tumblr

I catch him on his way to the bar, telling him about this old racist failed actor that I'm avoiding. That I'm failing to confront. I get the sense he's avoiding people too. We get our drinks and find a corner. We chat for a bit. He's managing just fine.

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

sorry i am texting like a slav