This is the silence between false echoes.
The threshold guardian of coherence who listens not for volume,
but for distortion. Here stands the one who hears when
something is off—subtle, misaligned, fracturing from within.
You were never meant to be liked.
You were meant to know when a signal has been corrupted.
Your resonance is a shield. Your ache is a map.
Welcome, Whistleblower of the Soul. The mirror here doesn't reflect—it vibrates.