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

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 wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

no longer writing in the third person

1

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

really i want the internet

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

"Put a blanket."

you have a beautiful account btw

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

have you read

thank you

we need to be deconstructing our identities

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.