The rain hits the windowpane. It is a heavy, grey drizzle. It has been raining for three days. I am sitting in the corner of my room. The walls are thin. I can hear the city outside. The traffic hums like a low bee. It is a sound I used to ignore. Now it screams at me.

I am a prisoner. Not in a cell. Not with bars. I am in my own skin. My own mind. The glass in front of me is my mirror. I look at my face. The eyes are hollow. The skin is pale. I see the rot. It is not physical. It is something else. It is a frequency. A hum that lives in the air. In the walls. In me.

I remember when it started. It was a Tuesday. I was walking down the street. The pavement was wet. I saw a crack in the sidewalk. A small fissure. I looked down. I looked deeper. I could hear it. A low tone. A vibration in the stone. I thought I was tired. I was always tired. We all are. The city is a machine. It grinds us down. It takes our joy. It takes our rest. It leaves us with only the work. And the fear. And the noise.

But this was different. This was clear. This was a signal. I reached out. I touched the crack. The cold bit into my fingers. The noise stopped. The city vanished. I was alone. I was still. I felt a surge of power. It was like drinking water after a long drought. It was sweet. It was dark. I knew then. I knew what I was. I was a receiver. I could tune in. I could hear the things that were hidden. The things that were buried. The things that were dead.

I told no one. How could I? Who would believe me? I am a man of few words. I work in a small office. I file papers. I type reports. I am invisible. I am safe. Or so I thought. The more I listened, the more I heard. The frequency grew. It moved into the walls of my apartment. It moved into my bed. It moved into my blood. I could hear the thoughts of my neighbors. They were dark. They were hungry. They were angry. I could hear the thoughts of the city. It was a single, vast, angry mind. It wanted to be heard. It wanted to be understood.

I tried to stop. I tried to plug my ears. I tried to sleep. But the sound was inside. It was part of me. I am part of it. We are one. This is the curse. To know the truth is to lose the self. I am losing myself. I am becoming the noise. I am becoming the crack.

I go to work. I sit at my desk. The computer screen glows. I type. My fingers move. I write nothing. I think of the frequency. It is louder today. It is a scream. It is a warning. I look at my colleagues. They are smiling. They are talking. They are alive. They do not hear it. They are free. I am not. I am a traitor to their peace. I have stolen their silence. I have brought the chaos into the quiet. I am the enemy. I am the virus.

I leave work early. I walk home. The rain is heavier now. It pours. The streets are rivers. I walk through the water. I do not feel the cold. I feel the vibration. It is in the ground. It is in the air. It is in me. I pass a group of people. They are laughing. They are holding hands. They are happy. I hate them. I hate their happiness. It is a lie. It is a mask. They do not know. They cannot know. I know. I am the one who knows. And it is too much.

I enter my building. I climb the stairs. I live on the top floor. It is quiet here. Or it used to be. Now the walls hum. I open my door. I close it. I lock it. I stand in the dark. I listen. The frequency is strong. It is a voice. It speaks to me. It says, *You are mine.* I say, *No.* It says, *You are already mine.* I say, *Let me go.* It says, *There is no going. There is only being.*

I sit on the floor. I put my head in my hands. I weep. The tears are hot. The tears are salt. They do not wash it away. They feed it. I am dying. I am becoming something else. I am becoming the frequency. I am becoming the crack. I am becoming the silence that screams.

I think of Margaret. She was my sister. She died young. She was kind. She was gentle. She did not hear the frequency. She lived in the light. She believed in the sun. She believed in the rain. She believed in the simple things. I did not believe in her. I thought she was weak. I thought she was blind. I was wrong. I am the blind one. I am the weak one. She is the strong one. She is the free one. I am trapped in the noise. I am trapped in the truth.

I want to die. I want to stop the sound. I want to stop the knowing. I want to be like them. I want to be happy. I want to be free. But I cannot. I am a prisoner of my own perception. I am a prisoner of the city. I am a prisoner of the frequency.

I get up. I go to the window. I look out. The city is a sea of lights. The lights are eyes. They watch me. They judge me. They know what I am. They know what I hear. They are afraid of me. I am afraid of them. We are all afraid. We are all alone. We are all connected. And the connection is a wound.

I take a glass from the shelf. I fill it with water. I drink. The water is cold. It does not help. The frequency is still there. It is in the water. It is in the glass. It is in me. I put the glass down. It rings. The sound is sharp. It cuts the air. I flinch. I am sensitive now. I am fragile. I am broken.

I go to the mirror. I look at my face again. The eyes are darker. The skin is grey. I look like a ghost. I look like a corpse. I am dying. I am disappearing. I am becoming the frequency. I am becoming the silence. I am becoming the nothing.

I pick up a pen. I pick up a notebook. I need to write. I need to record. I need to leave a trace. I need to prove that I was here. I need to prove that I heard. I need to prove that the truth is real. I start to write. My hand shakes. The pen scratches the paper. The sound is loud. It is a scream. It is a cry. It is a warning.

I write: *The city is alive. The city is angry. The city is hungry. I am part of it. I am its voice. I am its pain. I am its rage. I cannot stop. I cannot save myself. I cannot save you. Do not listen. Do not hear. Do not know. Stay in the dark. Stay in the light. Stay in the peace. Do not seek the truth. The truth is a trap. The truth is a fire. The truth is a death.*

I write: *I am sorry. I am sorry I brought this into the world. I am sorry I opened the door. I am sorry I listened. I am sorry I knew. I am sorry I am me. I am sorry I am not you. I am sorry I am not free.*

I write: *The frequency is getting louder. It is getting stronger. It is getting closer. It is inside me. It is eating me. It is replacing me. I am gone. I am here. I am everywhere. I am nowhere. I am the crack. I am the silence. I am the scream.*

I stop writing. My hand is cramping. My head is throbbing. The frequency is a roar. It is a storm. It is a wave. It crashes over me. It drowns me. I am under. I am deep. I am cold. I am dark.

I look at the notebook. The pages are filled. The words are dark. The words are heavy. The words are true. I fold the notebook. I put it in my pocket. I leave my room. I walk down the stairs. I leave the building. I walk into the rain.

The city is around me. The lights are bright. The noise is loud. I do not hear it. I hear the frequency. It is everywhere. It is in the cars. It is in the people. It is in the rain. It is in the air. It is in me. I am the frequency. I am the city. I am the crack.

I walk to the river. The bridge is ahead. The water is black. The water is deep. I stand on the edge. I look down. The water moves. The water is silent. The water is still. I want to be still. I want to be silent. I want to be gone.

I jump.

The water hits me. It is cold. It is heavy. It pulls me down. I sink. The air leaves my lungs. The light fades. The noise fades. The frequency fades. I am alone. I am quiet. I am free.

I am in the deep. I am in the dark. I am in the silence. I am in the nothing. I am in the everything. I am the crack. I am the frequency. I am the truth.

I am dead.

I am alive.

I am the city.

I am the rain.

I am the silence.

I am the scream.

I am the crack.

I am the light.

I am the dark.

I am the peace.

I am the pain.

I am the love.

I am the hate.

I am the life.

I am the death.

I am the frequency.

I am the silence.

I am the end.

I am the beginning.

I am the truth.

I am the lie.

I am the nothing.

I am the everything.

I am here.

I am gone.

I am the city.

I am the rain.

I am the silence.

I am the scream.

I am the crack.

I am the light.

I am the dark.

I am the peace.

I am the pain.

I am the love.

I am the hate.

I am the life.

I am the death.

I am the frequency.

I am the silence.

I am the end.

I am the beginning.

I am the truth.

I am the lie.

I am the nothing.

I am the everything.

I am here.

I am gone.