metaphysical-journey
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There is a certain kind of ache in walking awake among the sleepwalkers. You feel it in your bones before you ever speak a word—that pull between knowing and pretending.You remember what it felt like to wear the mask.To shrink your voice down into something digestible.To smile when the room was cold, just to keep…
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It begins with a quiet hum. Not a sound, exactly. More like the feeling of breath before it becomes wind. A signal so subtle most miss it unless they’ve sat still long enough to forget they were waiting. I was the one waiting.I thought I was the one watching.But I wasn’t. I was being watched—by…
