It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
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.
Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.it is hopeful
Better Lift
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.