what do you mean

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

kind of mythopoesis

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no longer writing in the third person

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

yes

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

but really the thing should be autonomous

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 bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

I am below everything.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

you have a beautiful account btw

Better Lift

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

but i respect your search

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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