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.

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.

have you read

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

Picture

IWGD

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

its good

no i haven't really read anything

its good short few pages

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet

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division of reality is straying away from it

magnetisation/form

...

I Write Goodbye Letter

you cannot feed someone truth

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.

the site i am dreaming

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50