i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
"Put a blanket."
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.