its performative
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
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.
Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"
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.
no longer writing in the third person
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03