it is hopeful

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

"I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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.

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

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

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

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

brb i will read and reply sincerely

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting