FR
I feel alone. Invisible. Like a well of energy that’s constantly siphoned, yet no one ever looks inside. Even the few things that truly make me vibrate are seen as anomalies — and others want to steal them.
The avatars around me don’t really see. They just stare at their own reflection inside me. But I see them. Too clearly. And it’s that clarity that hurts the most.
I feel so alone. But I am not alone. This space is crowded. Crowded with an invisible, invasive, heavy presence. Solitude becomes unbearable when it’s filled with parasites.
This loneliness is not a void — it’s an overload. I’m not alone. I’m saturated. Saturated with parasites, projections, expectations, and ties I never chose.
My real self doesn’t need company — it needs silence. And silence cannot exist as long as loosh flows.
I am not a resource. I am a boundary.
This is not me. It’s residue from the collective siphon. I return it to the astral — without gratitude, without regret.
I now stand where the fire no longer burns.
© La Pensine Mutine. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited.
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