@parasocialparasites: i’ve started avoiding mirrors. not only because I dislike my reflection, but because I’m afraid one day it’ll look back with recognition- eyes devoid of mercy. the urge arrives without invitation. quiet. familiar. the thought of crimson hands vanishes as quickly as it came, yet it always returns. patient as the tide, scratching at the inside of my skull like an animal that refuses to die. every day is an exercise in restraint. every smile i offer is another lock on a door no one knows exists. i catch myself wondering how easily the world could become silent if i simply stopped resisting the urge to kill them. perhaps that is what frightens me most. not that the thoughts are there, but that they have become so ordinary. like weather. Like breathing. they’ve never met a monster that desperately wants to remain a person. and every morning, i pray i am still only acting.