Screams and Memories

“The human psyche is fragile. So easily bent. So easily broken.” There’s a voice now. Whispering from the base of my skull—just under the necklace. It curls in my ears like smoke, thin and persistent, almost thoughtful. I tell myself it’s just my imagination. Maybe fatigue. Or stress. Or maybe the necklace is finally cracking me from the inside out. I used to trust my senses. But lately… I don’t know. The lights flicker when I get too angry. My bones feel hollow. My reflection looks... off. And now this voice. I ask myself: Is it a symptom of madness or a new part of me waking up? I haven’t told anyone. Would you? I used to think monsters only lived in stories, on late-night horror shows and in flickering VHS tapes. But they’re real now—lurking in alleyways, clawing at the edges of the city. New ones. Ones I don’t recognize. And I wonder: Am I the only one seeing them? Or are others changing too? There’s only one film I could talk about today. A film about doubt, paranoia, ...