There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
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?
no longer writing in the third person
it is hopeful
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.
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.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
i want to do that too
in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation
is everyoneback on tumblr now
in a post. I want to be remembered
but really the thing should be autonomous
okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate
or never left
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls