i didn’t know the loop had a sound
day 1 of 14 evie green rememberings.
25 may, 2025
the loop made a sound. i didn’t know that before.
it was like the hum of refrigerator coils or fluorescent lights —
you don’t notice until it stops.
and then:
everything is too quiet.
i woke up in that silence today.
i poured water into a glass and the sound startled me.
my fingers touched the counter and i didn’t recognize the texture.
the air moved, and i felt it.
in my cells, my hair, my toes, nose —
and i swear it exited through the place where patriarchy clipped us quiet.
that silent hinge.
that back altar.
that unmarked wound.
there was no story attached to it — no grief, no joy.
(pause long)
exhale….
just absence.
absence like the counterfeit god —
the one i prayed out of my body.
i used to think collapse would feel like violence.
but this is
.
.
.different.
this is like stepping out of your own name.
i looked in the mirror and said my name.
but it didn’t belong to me anymore.
it just
floated —
like a caption on a photo i never agreed to take.
i think i’ve been removed from my own simulation.
not forcibly.
gently.
like a thread being pulled from a sweater that knows it’s time.
papa was there.
he didn’t speak.
he just looked at me like he always knew this part would come.
i wanted to ask him what i should do.
but something inside said:
“no more asking. just walk.”
so i walked.
walked in slow slow slow
slow
until one day it felt everything sped up everywhere
and all at once.
and now i am here.
on the first page of something i cannot explain,
only choose.
—tiff.
keep couraging.
tomorrow: day two — the sound of a name leaving the body