It’s strange—I never wake up this early. But today, something ruptured in the dream, jolting me awake with unnatural clarity. I’m left trembling, not from fear, but from the visceral weight of the memory: Lake Geneva in summer, the water’s deceptive calm, the way my body sank as if pulled.

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2025/07/02

It’s strange—I never wake up this early. But today, something ruptured in the dream, jolting me awake with unnatural clarity. I’m left trembling, not from fear, but from the visceral weight of the memory: Lake Geneva in summer, the water’s deceptive calm, the way my body sank as if pulled.

I should’ve been safe—we were in the shallows, laughing moments before. Yet there I was, drowning, while he watched. The same person who later dragged me back to shore, the one I’d avoided ever since. Not out of hatred, but something more unsettling—an inexplicable revulsion, as if his presence disrupted some invisible order. How cruel, to be witnessed in such vulnerability by eyes that held no kindness. It’s been so long since that memory. Why now?