(no subject)

The little intimacies, the casual touches, the careful dance of arranging to be alone together; the feeling of being supported all over but with the insides of oneself hollowing out. Amoric horror is the horror of existing, just existing, under the weight of something nameless and inescapable.

Rereading this reminds me that the amoric horror project I've been calling "acb" is something I really want to work on more. I don't think I can do more editing until I get more draft to edit, which means I've got to generate more draft. It feels unnatural to be writing it because what I currently have is so polished that I don't see what there is to add, but I have plenty more plot points; I just gotta power through them.