really i want the internet
so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged
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.
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.
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.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
I am below everything.
kind of mythopoesis
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
it is hopeful
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03
yes