Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

It Will Get Lighter

hiding from the rain

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

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

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

Thank you, Jack

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.

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.

Better Lift

no longer writing in the third person

I am below everything.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.