i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

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 am below everything.

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.

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Worse Lift

hiding from the rain


After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

IWGD

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Rain, starting

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet