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

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.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

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



brb i will read and reply sincerely

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

Better Lift

Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after

dusk

, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.


"Put a blanket."

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 21:54:03

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

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

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

no longer writing in the third person

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

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.