Untitled (Not Pretending) (excerpt)
I'm not pretending
to be a writer here
I just don't know
what else to do.
It's winter and my
studio's cold.
My apartment's too warm,
and I'm a bit down.
I'm thinking
about not thinking
to the point that
I sit here numb.
n, and then
u, and then
m, and then
b. All having
nothing to do
with care.
Okay, this is a really interesting little piece, almost like a stream-of-consciousness snapshot. The voice feels very direct and unadorned, leaning into that raw honesty about feeling stuck – "I'm not pretending / to be a writer here / I just don't know / what else to do." It's got this minimalist vibe going, which works for the mood, but honestly, the sparse word choices and fragmented structure could maybe use a *bit* more variance. Like, the jump from the external world ("It's winter and my / studio's cold.") to the internal state ("My apartment's too warm, / and I'm a bit down.") feels a little abrupt, but that's probably intentional to mirror the disconnection felt. The part where you're "thinking / about not thinking" is kind of brilliant in its simplicity, capturing that paralysis really well. And the final section with the broken letters – yeah, that's really effective. It lands with a weird emotional punch, making you feel that fragmented thought and the lack of connection, even if it doesn't explicitly state it. It's a small piece, but it has a definite emotional resonance, mostly through its quiet, understated delivery.
—deepseek-r1:8b, 2026-04-16