Mentalspiral قصص

The walls breathe like they remember things. Tenants whisper things they shouldn't. A floor that doesn't exist keeps calling out to him. Fazil can't stop noticing the inconsistencies. What starts as paranoia unravels into something far stranger: Signals. Patterns. Messages embedded in the walls. Someone-or something-is trying to make contact. Soon, Fazil realizes he's not just investigating an anomaly in the Glasswell Building- he's unraveling a desperate message from the future. You don't find the 13th floor- it finds you. *New chapters Thursday or Friday evenings until it's completed!*

I met someone online. At first it was just messages... late conversations, shared secrets, a voice in the dark when the world went quiet. Then it became something else. I started seeing them everywhere - in my thoughts, in my dreams, in every silence between heartbeats. I couldn't stop thinking about them. I couldn't stop wanting more. Love is supposed to feel warm. So why does this feel like falling into something deeper... something I can't escape?

this is me.

Every night, he stands trial in a courtroom built from his guilt. Each accuser? Someone he once hurt. Each verdict? A stain on his waking life. Aleks Sarin has always avoided hard questions-about who he is, what he's done, and who he's become. But when his dreams turn into surreal courtrooms run by the shadows of his past, reality begins to unravel. The only way out may be to confess the truth he never dared to face.

A poem about how villains are made, and how they can never be born, but their always made by either the hero's, or the 'good' guys.

(FICTION)This isn't your average diary. It's raw. It's chaotic. It's a collection of the loudest thoughts in the quietest head. Open if you dare but this is where the maniacs write.

She thought it was just stress. One forgotten stove. A running sink. A phone in the oven. But soon, hours vanished. Conversations blurred. Mirrors reflected someone she didn't know. Was she fading? Or was someone else living her life? When reality bends and your thoughts no longer feel like your own, how do you hold on to yourself? A quiet, unsettling descent into dissociation, identity, and the soft terror of unraveling.

My mind spirals. Does yours?

I'm gonna flaunt my age like a sage just only on this page

Three shadows. One human. One decision. In the midst of silence, pain, and prayer, three shadows are having a conversation - the white, the black, and the gray one. They are no strangers. They are the inner voices of a human standing at the edge of their own world. While time passes on the outside, they negotiate within - about guilt, love, cowardice, hope - and about life itself. What does it mean to survive, when inside, you're already breaking apart? ⚠️ Trigger warning: This story addresses psychological distress and suicidal thoughts. Please read with care. You are not alone.

What if what we call routine was just a carefully written fiction? An ordinary day. One unexpected question. Sometimes, the only way out... is to go back in.

He never tried to own me, That's exactly how he did :) This wasn't a situationship, It was a psychological heist! He said "hey" I answered like it was a summons! Welcome to a slow-burn spiral with no rules, no promises just two avoidants pretending they're not obsessed!