I think I’ve touched something too real. It won’t let go.

I climbed to the roof of a random apartment building last night. I’ve done it before—used to give me peace. Like the city became quiet just for me. But this time, something changed.

I felt this void. Not a metaphorical one—an actual sensation beneath my chest, like existence peeled back for just a moment. Everything felt fake. Identity. Time. Thought. Like I was standing at the edge of the Big Bang before anything began. Something was calling. But nothing was there. And yet I felt it.

It terrified me. I left. But now I regret leaving. I need to feel it again. I need to know what it was. It haunts me now—follows me during the day, lingers at night.

This isn’t depression. It’s not stress. It’s something… else. I don’t know if anyone will get this. But I needed to say it.