no longer writing in the third person

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.

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.

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

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

yes

We gather around the start of a causeway down to the Thames. It's a pretty cold night and there's a breeze coming off the river.

13, H, grate

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

It Will Get Lighter

I am below everything.

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

like magnets

god being the centre magnet

i see a website

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

abrar?

bro i read nothing in my life

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

what do you mean

yeah

whats your name?

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