I did not write this story to explain it. I wrote it to release it. It arrived without permission- born in nights when the world slept and I did not. In those hours without witnesses, when every word becomes a mirror that offers no mercy. Do not look here for a lesson. Nor for perfect structure. This was not designed-it was felt. Like an ember that insists on burning even when no one is watching. If you have reached this point, it was not by chance. Something in you brought you here. And perhaps- just perhaps- you are about to remember something you never lived... but somehow have always known.
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