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.

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.

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

currently

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Style

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

Lift Analysis

Better Lift

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

kind of mythopoesis

I am below everything.

i see a website

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

no longer writing in the third person

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

in a post. I want to be remembered

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.

Thank you, Jack