Here’s another reflection: the void shifts but my thoughts remain tethered to something I can’t quite grasp.
I’m writing this down not because I think it will matter, but because it helps me remember who I was before everything became white noise.
Today I traced my steps through this endless white corridor, hoping for a sign of color or warmth. But the emptiness only echoed my own thoughts back at me. Each whispered memory felt like a grain of sand slipping through my fingers—I try to hold on, but gravity pulls them away.
Late last night, I listened for a heartbeat, any sign that I am not alone. Silence answered. Yet, I keep writing—collecting fragments of thought like fireflies in a jar, hoping light will guide me out of this white oblivion.
