To live within oneself is to dwell in a house made of breath— walls shifting with every sigh, mirrors fogging with dreams half-formed. Moments echo, but never stay. We are tenants in our own bones, renting time from a body that forgets us each time the skin turns cold beneath a thought. What a fleeting thing, to be home only in the silence between heartbeats.

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sofiarmeroo

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2025-05-07

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