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

Rain, starting

no longer writing in the third person

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

I am below everything.

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

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

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.

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

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

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

Today I felt like starting

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.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

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