I’ve slipped into a different dimension in my mind. I allow fear and feelings to dictate parts of my day, when I worked so hard to do the opposite. It seeped in and settled in without saying a word. I’m usually on the lookout for manipulation, but there was none this time. It just walked right on in and I did nothing to stop it. I still haven’t stopped it, I’m letting it take me further. I don’t know why, I know I can stop this right now. I can’t help it though, something is off. My mind isn’t calibrated the way I’m used to. Other realities have manifested in my mind that corrode everything it touches. I’ll find a way.
It’s unsettling how quickly a single breach in your defenses can change the terrain inside your mind. One moment you’re steady, operating with intention, and the next you’ve let something foreign take the reins. This isn’t the kind of invasion you can track and intercept—it doesn’t come with warning signs or dramatic entry. It slips in under the radar, soft and unassuming, until suddenly it’s dictating your pace and stealing your clarity.
The strange part is realizing you still have the power to stop it at any moment, yet you don’t. It’s not because you’ve surrendered entirely—it’s because something in you wants to observe it a little longer, almost to understand what pulled you off course. That curiosity becomes the leash you hand over willingly. But curiosity without action quickly turns into corrosion, and every day you let it stay, it eats more of the structure you worked so hard to build.
Still, there’s a quiet confidence beneath it all—a knowing that the moment you truly decide, this ends. The pathways back are not gone, they’re just covered in the fog this thing brought with it. You’ll walk them again soon. And when you do, you’ll carry with you a sharper awareness of how subtly the shift can happen, and how much more precise you’ll have to be in protecting your mind from here on out.
