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.

currently

It Will Get Lighter

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.


13, H, grate





Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

Rain, starting

in a post. I want to be remembered

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

Better Lift

no longer writing in the third person

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.


"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

hiding from the rain

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.