Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

currently

no longer writing in the third person

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

1

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.

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.

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

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

I am below everything.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Lift Analysis

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

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 am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

Better Lift

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

Thank you, Jack

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.