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.
that looks like my instagram account
so at the end
sorry i am texting like a slav
whats your name?
i love it here
was it worth it
isaac newton
what do you think my name is
yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf
abrar?
no i haven't really read anything
have you read
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
feel you
its good
We look out over the river to a block of luxury flats built on the site of some old docks. It would be nice to live right there. Yes.
like magnets
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
i dont understand magnetisation
ion
and the fake qualifier
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
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.
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 trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
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.