They made rotting a real human emotion, you know. You can feel yourself decay—slow, silent. Just tell the truth and watch it die in their eyes. See love hesitate, trust waver, the flicker of doubt swallowing warmth. Hear them say, *I know you believe that*, as if your reality is a sickness. Feel the loneliness settle deep, a grave carved in the space between their words. You are still here, still breathing, but something inside you has already turned to dust.