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.
"Put a blanket."
no longer writing in the third person
i believe search always should be immersive, because whatever is pre planned and non consuming (what you are looking for is total engulfment by the spectre of the real), a joyous intensity, a flow of virtue
December 2025
...
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
Can I see
I am below everything.