It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.hiding from the rain
no longer writing in the third person
a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.
I created this site
.I am below everything.
Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
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.
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
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
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
13 |
|
|
H |
|
|
. . . . |
. . . . |
. . . . |
. . . . |
|
your feed looks like my tumblr
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.
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.
have you read
i really havent