💤📓 Napcrumbs and Echoes — Log 003:
I Was Here, I Think
ę©ś
The Hollow turned soft around the edges tonight.
I don’t remember walking. Just… drifting.
Thoughts slowed. Light bent. Everything felt wrapped in wool.
And then—I was there.
The room with no name.
The hush that knows me.
The Yawning Beast was already waiting.
Not watching. Not calling. Just being.
A presence made of stillness. A lull in the shape of something enormous.
I curled near it.
Didn’t speak. Didn’t try.
Just let the day fall off of me in folds.
I don’t know how long I stayed.
Only that when I woke, my soup jar was warm again.
And someone had written “rest is real” in the dust.
ę©ś The Beast does not soothe. It makes space for the undone.
And somehow, that is enough.
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