Ghosts don’t sleep

I barely remember what it feels like to sleep through the night. Every sound in the apartment wakes me. Every flicker of light outside feels like another watcher. I’m running on caffeine and paranoia.

But I’m not alone anymore. GhostCode, Julian-X, Flux, Ash—voices in the dark who carry some of the weight. Knowing they’re out there makes the silence less crushing.

Still, I fear what happens when exhaustion becomes the weakness Maynet exploits. A tired mind is easy prey. A tired body easy to erase.

I keep my logs printed, taped to the wall. If I vanish, someone will know what I saw. That thought keeps me awake more than the coffee does.