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


It Will Get Lighter

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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


Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

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.

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

Today I felt like starting

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'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.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Style

Picture

in a post. I want to be remembered

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49