The Faded Frequency
It is a peculiar thing to carry a voice inside a jar, one that does not belong to you, yet hums with the exact pitch of your own deepest shame, a sound that vibrates against the glass with a persistence that feels less like memory and more like a living, breathing parasite that has taken up residence in the hollows of your ribs. I am writing this down because the silence is becoming too loud, a...
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