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.

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.

Better Lift

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Picture

hiding from the rain

no longer writing in the third person

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

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

as in

i was tempted to lie about my name

bro i read nothing in my life

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

magnetisation/form

i really havent