She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
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.
Thank you, Jack
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.
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
currently
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
bro i read nothing in my life
i have read not even 1 book
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08
much more tactility
no i haven't really read anything
your feed looks like my tumblr
which magnetises chains of pins
Lift Analysis
the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book
magnetises a pin