Journal Entry

03:58 AM

I didn’t build the machine to escape sleep.
I built it to see what was left of me inside it.

The lenses don’t show dreams.
They return them… altered.
As if something has already been there before me.

I thought I was observing.
Taking it apart.
Understanding it.

But the longer I stayed,
the less certain that became.

The gears don’t tick.
They hum—steady, patient—
like something waiting for me to notice.

The light in the lenses isn’t illumination.
It feels… aware.

I haven’t blinked in a while.

I’m not sure when that started.

And now—
when I look through it—

it feels less like I’m watching.

And more like
something is watching back.