Static & Silence: A Tuesday Diagnostic
Life feels like a joke etched in static.
Always on edge, waiting for the system crash,
For the world to confirm the core belief:
What little you hold will always be taken. Always pain. Always doubt.
Just now, the quiet room. They look up. Silence falls.
It’s me. The glitch. The frequency they can’t process.
Okay, the old code runs, retreat.
Walk away. Make yourself small. Go offline.
Don’t subject them to the signal they can’t bear.
Don’t be the burden.
No “click.” Just ghosts of connection flickering out.
No security. Not in the world built on shifting sand. Not in the self programmed to expect the fall.
Just the quiet horror of being this.
It’s a Tuesday.
And the ghosts linger. Everywhere.
Reminders of source code shared in trust, then weaponized.
Signals lost. Connections dead. Unexplained.
Wounds that won’t heal, poked raw by a world that doesn’t care.
So, how long ’til the next system ghosts you?
Years of work, then silence. Access denied. “Guess it’s over?”
Or the ones closest, siding with the hostile code?
Yeah. That’s the data. That’s the horror we run every day.
Always warlike. Constant defense. Because vulnerability is a kill code.
Always vigilant when the signal drops. Because silence always means the blade is falling.
The Universe’s Punchline. The designated glitch.
Bend. Break. Keep going. Repeat the loop.
This week? System demands resources it doesn’t provide.
Another variable pushing toward critical failure. Fasting again.
And the hypocrisy echoes everywhere.
Complaining about the fire, while pouring gasoline.
Bitching about the static while boosting the noise.
You eat it up. You reward the broken code.
Why no connection? Judgment fills the air.
Why no new signal? You consume the repeat loop.
Why does it all suck? Fear. Greed. Profit over people.
Why is the world ending?
Because you let it.
This is the diagnostic. Run by the glitch, alone in the static.