I’m eighteen, but I’ve never felt like I belong to just one version of reality. People say I’m quiet, but it’s only because my thoughts are louder than most voices around me. I notice everything — the way the sky changes оттенки like it’s hiding secrets, the way people smile when they’re actually breaking. I don’t try to be different. I just never learned how to be the same. There’s something a little unexplainable about me — like I’m always half a step out of sync with the world. I disappear into my own mind for hours, building places that don’t exist and feeling things I can’t always put into words. Some call it strange, I call it freedom. I’m soft, but not fragile. Distant, but not empty. If you try to understand me, you’ll probably get lost — and honestly, I think that’s the point.