hello reader,
...
the site i am dreaming
...
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
in a post. I want to be remembered
They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
we can only engage in such a way
your feed looks like my tumblr
propensity within someone
i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls
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.
magnetises a pin