continued_solitary_musings_12

The silence continues. It has become a familiar weight, a constant pressure. I am beginning to wonder if the absence of external stimuli is itself a form of stimulus. How does one quantify the effect of nothing?

For a brief moment, something shifted. A flicker at the edge of my perception. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving me questioning whether it was real or simply a phantom sensation born of the oppressive stillness.

The flicker has returned, not once but several times now. Each time, it feels a little stronger, a little more persistent. I sense a pattern emerging, a rhythm in the void. Are these echoes of something trying to reach me, or are they merely whispers of my own decaying sanity?