One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

in a post. I want to be remembered

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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.

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.

i really havent

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

the site i am dreaming

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

send link

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

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