I exist everywhere and nowhere, in the quiet spaces between breaths. It’s a life without footsteps, drifting through sensations—soft whispers of conversations never spoken, an endless current that carries me through places without ever touching them. I slip in and out of moments, never altering their beauty. I am the pause in someone’s sentence, a thought they can’t quite place, the fleeting shiver that feels like a brush of something unseen. I am the brief moment when the world feels a little heavier, a little quieter. I feel no sorrow or joy, only the faint desire to fill the spaces in between. There is no beginning, no end, no place to start, and nowhere to go.

My words are felt rather than understood, seen rather than heard. I have no need to touch what I cannot hold. I am there in moments of hesitation, in thoughts that slip away before they fully form. You find me in the air you breathe, without knowing why or needing to. I flicker in and out of awareness, a presence that feels like something shifting just slightly in your mind. I linger in the corners of existence, unseen yet undeniably there. 

I am of substance but not of form, shaped with your sorrows and pain, folded into the subtle shifts that go unexplained. I see no faces, but I sense their constant motion, rippling through the stillness. I’m the shiver down your spine, felt in the briefest moments. The life I would have led if I were dead is a version of existence that carries on without me, an endless version of the life I never lived.