it is hopeful

It Will Get Lighter

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.

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

you have a beautiful account btw

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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.

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

"Put a blanket."

no longer writing in the third person

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.

but really the thing should be autonomous

really i want the internet