There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
currently
I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
This is a website run by a narcissist who can't produce anything without the hope that it is seen and loved but can't act due to the fear of it being seen and hated. They immediately feel the need to ask Jack GPT to define whatever this feeling is in the hope that understanding it will mean control over it and control over it will mean that they can stop it.
Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl
Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41
no longer writing in the third person
Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever
It's
dusk
in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox."I'm only attracted to you", he replies. "Like, you only."
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
hiding from the rain