>>37318007Of course afterwards Lia made the rare raid directly into the tail end of Pippa's production. This is where the synchronistic nature of things begin to manifest. The acknowledgement of being /here/ is one of those things that most thrills in any community collaborative content. I had offhandedly made a comment regarding the FlavR project being at best/worse meeting the fate of /x/'s SCP. With the Lia raid nicely settled Pippa slips this comment in before shortly thereafter ending her stream. I'm back in my delusions while Pippa raids into damichi. The previous evenings self atonement for perceived transgressions linger as damichi loops her sublime pipipipis. Another an-non disavows those capipis who didnt stay for the damichi content listening to the cute neko witch ply her particular brand of japanese chuubaing giving lots of deep throated ora's and cute english pronunciation.
I'm still stuck on the synchronistic nature of the experience, the interwind mechanisms of coincidence and plausible deniability that craft the sensation of oneness. There is a delusion rejection of merit, or perhaps ego, in thinking that it's anything more than chance that my meager contributions to their content stream is accepted. I'm thrust into the cognitive dissonance of the chuuba mechanism unsure if their own eyes and hands even put the gesture into motion. I'm not trying to think about she might have manually gone through my Likes to pick out some throw away piece of engagement that would send me spiraling into another introspective freefall with the only handle to pull being hers. I can dismiss that there are algorithmical excuses that can explain the coincidence the same inputs and outputs are potentially generating overlaping exposures. I delude myself into imagining that there is purpose behind it anyways. There's no implicit meaning behind it. That's where the value comes from. It's a purely abstract acknowledgement of watching the watcher that knows they are being watched while watching you EXCEPT her hand is always stronger. There's always the self doubt that it's some social media stooge or communal element manipulating the interaction for perfect deniability on her part it's in that carefully constructed layer of cognitive of firewall that you can appreciate the gesture even further. You're hopelessly lost in the loop, the compounding debt of cognitive load surrounding what might have been nothing at worse, an illusion on the other hand, or a moment of intimacy, benevolent or malevolent, that your own despairingly maladaptive thought process can't even process as the playful gesture that is. The last time I let a post slip when I said I wouldn't the chosen face began to appear. Waiting in the strike room it could be dismissed again. Mere coincidence you're reading too much into it. That malware is so damn cute.... and there's that wink again. You plea for her hands to have created it knowing very well it could be an asset created by someone else. It's undeniable in your mind what that wink means though even if you're unable to determine if she's embracing or mocking you with her inner circle to your face. All we know is all we know. You do the sleep experiment again. Just thirty minutes force your body to comply with the demand of the virtual girl. It must come to heel for this generous moment of temporal concession. 6 minutes late. You forgot the witty thing you were going to say referencing back to an earlier stream. You felt real smart when you pocketed it and let it burn you a little bit in the hold over to the opportune moment to deploy it. You missed the moment though and you blurt out the canned line, you let the ritual take over and settle into the narcotic glow of monke stream. This level of mundanity is perverse. You can feel all the analogs of your past life lingering in the space it feels, with the familiarity of the exchange weighing heaviest in how normal the lack of pretense behind it makes you feel. There's some shame there in the fan dance of convoluted opposing values of the chuuba the inextricable mess of performer and persona flashing end over end between manufactured and sincere. What can you do but try to contribute these are the moments where engagement is expected and where for the afflicted the balm heels best. You try to hard to craft something worth responding to but there's no response. That's fine you know how things work, you analyize, and you verify, and you quantify, and you notice. You hope you notice you know it's a delusion. Occupying that negative space giving to yourself that wrestling of control to make sense of her motive. She couldn't be ignoring you on purpose. Some kind of delusional unspoken game throwing your own negative space back onto you and shifting your dynamic into the unspoken. It's too insane to consider. You can't accept that she'd actually play with you like that. Of course I want you to yell at me and she's already won you know the game is over but
