After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
i see a website
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos
"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
He went in there with a camera to film it before he moved out of the building. He didn't think anyone would believe the story if he didn't have proof.
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
we need to be deconstructing our identities
no like which do people call me
its good
feel you
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
December 2025
is everyoneback on tumblr now
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.
i was tempted to lie about my name
no i haven't really read anything
like magnets
hello reader,
i sat down to eat my peasant dinner but i thought it was a song you sent so i didn’t watch it then
The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.
The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.