somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

One of the birds shoots out of 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

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

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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

but i respect your search

i see a website

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.

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

Worse Lift

I am below everything.

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

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

not their contents

It Will Get Lighter

i hadn't considered this pedagogically or as a kind of personal knowledge management system (puke) at all but i suppose it is both of those things

have you read

plato

that looks like my instagram account

magnetises a pin

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