One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

13, H, grate

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.

Worse Lift

"Put a blanket."

in a post. I want to be remembered

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

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

you have a beautiful account btw

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

i see a website

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

a version of this existed for a few months last year but it was static. it was HTML with writing and pictures and videos and sounds. i had this feeling that the code should be as important as the content, that structurally each piece in relation to each other piece shouldn't change, that the mazelike quality should emerge from me intricately arranging paths through it. like classic hypertext

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

kind of mythopoesis

I am below everything.

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.