not their contents

1

Rain, starting

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.

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 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.

no longer writing in the third person

Picture

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

isaac newton

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.

its good

much more tactility

yeah

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

i haven't read 100 book s so i'm probably not getting the depth of all of what you're saying

all that is to say

whats your name?

i love it here

no like which do people call me

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

It Will Get Lighter

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class