Notes from Inside the Fracture: Entry One


I don’t remember when the fracture started.
Only that one day the world sounded louder than it used to, and I couldn’t turn the volume back down.

Awareness doesn’t arrive cleanly. It seeps in. It interrupts sleep. It ruins small talk. It makes even joy feel provisional—like it could collapse under inspection.

I still move through the motions. I still nod at the right moments. But something in me is always watching the watching.
Not paranoid. Just… awake in a way that doesn’t rest.

They don’t talk about this part.
The part where knowing doesn’t empower you—it exhausts you.

This isn’t enlightenment.
It’s living with an open wound that never quite scars over.

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