no longer writing in the third person

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.


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.

Style

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.

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49

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.

It Will Get Lighter

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

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

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

so an active mazelike process

IWGD

it is hopeful

...

so the method has to be autonomous

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.

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

1

. way too specific.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

the site i am dreaming