barren land

It Will Get Lighter

I am below everything.

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

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

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.

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

that looks like my instagram account

thank you

so an active mazelike process

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

and the fake qualifier

i love it here