Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

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.

it is hopeful

It Will Get Lighter

no longer writing in the third person

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:27:13

IWGD

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

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 22:11:24

"Put a blanket."
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

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.

Better Lift

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

Worse Lift

13, H, grate

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

in a post. I want to be remembered

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

I am below everything.

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.