The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
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.
After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting
Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?
so at the end
we want to live the knowledge too live the content
i dont understand magnetisation
yeah
isaac
idk
stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time
fw
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.
I am below everything.
i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike
but really the thing should be autonomous
no longer writing in the third person
kind of mythopoesis
i guess imagine a multimedia obsidian or notion that behaves according to some insane arcane rules that you can't ever really determine
what do you mean
Thank you, Jack