and the fake qualifier

it holds me to something (you, now). I love editing!

I Write Goodbye Letter

...

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

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

confused - is it the tide or its absense? I still like where I was going with it. anyway, real reader know this site is the note.
        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

send link

Slug

this will be about a slug

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

you know who you are. no more time, not like

1

. way too specific.

Picture

Rain, starting

And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.

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.

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.