after months of staying home,

I'm starting to think that no one else is coming.

the last of the love letters,

you don't like me, do you?

like a dead fly I lay there,

vacant, in a December spotlight

light up the internet,

getting through the day - and night - with a werner herzog film next -

the comedian bo burnham, another connoisseur of the ways in which the internet is warping human relationships -

that which rips your heart with joy.

into a spell of despair that even aggressive positivity is unable to reverse.

you gotta eat something.

but I prefer to nourish myself with the knowledge that it is not impossible (potato chips),

lost in dreamland?

afraid to say anything, perhaps.

all we can do now is sit tight and get out of the house.