it is hopeful

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.

yes

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.

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

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

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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.

1

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

no longer writing in the third person

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50