in a post. I want to be remembered
-
Lift and confinement – The crowded, immovable lift represents feeling
trapped or constrained in real life, either by social expectations,
relationships, or internal emotions. The inability to speak in front of
others suggests suppressed feelings or fear of judgment.
-
Unexpected confession – The girl saying “I think I might love you” could
symbolize longing for connection or recognition. It may reflect
unacknowledged desires, vulnerability, or anxiety about intimacy.
-
Forest and snow – The transition to a snowy forest signals escape into the
subconscious, a place of solitude, reflection, and emotional processing.
Snow often represents purity, stillness, or emotional coldness, while dusk
points to transition or uncertainty.
-
The fox – Foxes are traditionally symbols of cunning, intuition, and
guidance, but here it’s more ethereal: its bites are gentle yet noticeable,
suggesting a confrontation with subtle truths, small regrets, or lessons
that must be acknowledged. The unspoken apology indicates things left
unresolved or feelings that cannot be expressed.
-
Death or dissolution – Dying in the dream often doesn’t mean literal death;
it represents transformation, the end of a phase, or surrendering control.
It can indicate letting go of fear, old habits, or emotional blockages.
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
They're fucking around with the box. I ask her what people do with fireworks
for so long before they're ready to light. She doesn't know.
Rain, starting
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about...
whatever
It Will Get Lighter
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 slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the
morning, when I'm not quite right.
part of an old note. It will get lighter.
Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But
like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it
recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare
seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.
no longer writing in the third person
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.
