"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
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.
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
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.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
currently
the textwall is as much for me as it is for you
Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08