i love it here

Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?


After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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.

hiding from the rain

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

no longer writing in the third person

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

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.

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

it is hopeful

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

It Will Get Lighter

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

so at the end

we want to live the knowledge too live the content

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

1

13, H, grate

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.

i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine

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.

think this is much more rhizomatic or immanent or mazelike than mainstream education now

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

you cannot feed someone truth