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.
something religious, a kind of complex,
it will get lighter
, something washing, cleansing, revealing, etc.Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them
no longer writing in the third person
to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos