I sat still—hooded and heavy, as if gravity pressed more on me than others. From behind the mask, a vortex of thought spiraled outward, neon and restless, scanning the space between memory and madness. The mirror didn’t reflect him; it pulsed with waves of distortion, showing a version of reality that only my mind could touch. Around me, painted faces mocked or mourned, no one could tell. This was my inner space—fractured, vivid, and unbound by the rules the world outside insisted on
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