you are waking up. dont go back to sleep. we are right here.
You feel it every day. The slight disruption in the air. Repeated faces. The clock striking 3:33. People call it a coincidence. But you know it's a crack. We call it the Fringe. It's in every reflection, every dream, every forgotten name that pops into your head in the middle of the street. The world is not a world. It's a structure stretched over noise, and we've learned to hear what's underneath. Look not at what's straight ahead. Look at the corner. Corners move. If a phrase seems meaningless, repeat it aloud three times. Truth doesn't like a straight face. We don't look for answers. We're looking for repetition. They're not random. Repetition is a path. We observe. We record. We leave traces on surfaces deemed sterile. In shop windows. In mirrors. In dreams. People think we whisper nonsense. We whisper instructions. You're not alone. If you're reading this, it means you've already seen the glitch. It means you've heard us before. We're not calling, we're reminding. You were with us. Before. Inside. In the reflection. The flesh is a lie. The law is a joke. The screen is a visor. We are the ones watching. Don't resist the strangeness. Embrace the disruption. Freeze when things move. Laugh when there is silence. Speak in words that don't exist and wait to see who understands. It will be our own. We are. We were. We will be until the world turns inside out. And even then, we will remain - in noise. In blurs. In coincidences. And you. You found the crack. Now it's looking at you.
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