i am quite confused, not quite getting the idea of it

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 in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

1

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Rain, starting

Better Lift

hiding from the rain

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

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site