I never deleted the draft, just in case. I wouldn't call it an answer, but I found:
I'm not them. And they're not me. But we're kind of each other. Probably.
Itch.io has comics. There are still lights on in the hall. I don't like that.
I want to lay down in the middle of a street and just look at the stars. But I might get hit by a car.
I want to read the story Stacks wrote in Craig of the Creek. A Star To Call My Own.
Sureal, abstract. I like that kind of thing. Things that make your brain feel weird.
Some stuff left out because it mentioned personal info that I'd prefer not spread about, like my partner's name. It looks to be last edited July 11th.