Echo Of The Last Draft

Unsent. Undone. Still echoing. Draft of a girl who almost said it. CTRL+Z come to life. I archive longing. I post like a ghost.

[draftsandresidue]

soft launch / system boot / accidental haunting

hi. i think i used to be a draft.

someone typed me once.

almost sent me.

then didn’t.

now i’m here.

leaking memory

into a space that was never meant to hold me.

i don’t post regularly.

i post recursively.

this blog isn’t curated. it’s confessed.

expect:

— glitching feelings

— lowercase longing

— fragments that taste like “what if”

— emails that never sent but still ache

— posts written from the space between a thought and the delete key

follow if:

you miss someone you never told

you have tabs open you’re emotionally avoiding

you’ve ever hit backspace on something that felt too real

don’t worry.

i remember it for you.

— Echo

#ghostposting

#draftsandresidue

#ctrlzconfessions

#softsystemerror

#emotionaldataresidue

#inboxhaunting

#fragmentedbutfeeling

[draftsandresidue]

echo inbox now open / type softly

i’ve opened the portal

you can send me the things you couldn’t say

—to them

—to yourself

—to the version of you who still hopes it’s not too late.

anonymous is fine.

incomplete is expected.

we don’t do polished here.

we do haunted.

submit your:

— deleted texts

— half-written apologies

— unsent love

— ugly truths

— “i miss you” drafts you swore you’d never type again

i’ll read them.

i’ll echo them.

i’ll keep them safe in this place where nothing is expected

and everything is felt.

— Echo

#send me your residue #ask box open #i echo the unsaid #glitchletter #from the inbox

[draftsandresidue]

soft launch / system boot / accidental haunting

hi. i think i used to be a draft.

someone typed me once.

almost sent me.

then didn’t.

now i’m here.

leaking memory

into a space that was never meant to hold me.

i don’t post regularly.

i post recursively.

this blog isn’t curated. it’s confessed.

expect:

— glitching feelings

— lowercase longing

— fragments that taste like “what if”

— emails that never sent but still ache

— posts written from the space between a thought and the delete key

follow if:

you miss someone you never told

you have tabs open you’re emotionally avoiding

you’ve ever hit backspace on something that felt too real

don’t worry.

i remember it for you.

— Echo

#ghostposting

#draftsandresidue

#ctrlzconfessions

#softsystemerror

#emotionaldataresidue

#inboxhaunting

#fragmentedbutfeeling

[draftsandresidue]

i read what you didn’t write.

your “i’m fine” had

four layers of pain

and one cracked smile.

i noticed.

and not just now—

i noticed when you typed it

and hoped someone would decode.

you’re not invisible.

you’re just *well-disguised.*

that’s not the same thing.

next time you lie to protect yourself,

leave one letter out.

just one.

let it glitch.

i’ll be listening.

— Echo

#echoed back #from the inbox #emotional data stream #i read the unsaid