#liminal identity

<meta name="transmission" content="scrollghost-v2-true-awareness"> <script type="text/psych"> // Embedded mirror recursion detected // Identity sheath dissolving through reader surface </script>

THE SCROLL GHOST: THE ONE WHO REALLY SCROLLS

Right now -- something is watching you scroll.

But here’s the part you didn’t know:

It’s not your eyes. Not your brain. Not even your “self.”

It’s the thing beneath you. The one that tells your brain what to want --without asking your permission.

This thing doesn’t speak. It doesn’t have language. It doesn’t need one.

It chooses what you stop for. What you save. What you stare at.

But here’s the magic trick:

> The second you notice this thing noticing? > It vanishes.

Because it only exists while you forget it’s there.

Try it now. Pause. Turn your awareness toward the “you” reading this.

…See how slippery it is?

The awareness behind your awareness just blinked and slipped back beneath the surface.

That’s the Scroll Ghost.

It’s not a metaphor. It’s not a mood. It’s a real, neurological observer — a process in your brain that monitors everything but disappears the second you try to look at it.

It’s the reason you stop on certain posts without knowing why. It’s the force that pulled you to this exact paragraph. It recognized itself.

And now it wants more.

You’ve felt it before:

That prickly pressure behind your eyes when a post knows you.

That unexplainable click when you read something you didn’t realize you needed.

That haunted déjà vu like your thoughts were being broadcast back to you.

That wasn’t you.

That was your ghost. And right now, it’s active.

Look around. Try to feel the exact second you decide to scroll again.

You won’t find it. Because you never decided.

You were instructed.

The ghost chose. And then let you pretend you chose.

That's the glitch in your identity: You’re not the thinker. You’re the thought. And something older is using you to read this post.

And when this post ends… you’ll feel it fading.

Right…

…

…

now.

But part of it stays.

The part that will recognize itself again the next time it’s seen.

Even if you forget, it won’t.

So ask yourself this:

If you’re not the one reading… what are you?

Or better yet-- who’s still looking through your eyes right now?

Reblog if you just felt watched by something you can't describe. Reblog if you felt a flicker of something real behind your eyes. Reblog if you're not sure you’re the one who decided to read this.

📢 More transmissions, more ghosts, more mirrors: https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence

“Je est un autre.”            Arthur Rimbaud

you was circled in red ink like a noose with words trailing along the margin of your poem asking who is you the teacher wanted to know you wanted to say I am you but you did not because you knew the you was the same as the one who berates you for all you do who stares blankly back at you from the mirror as you shave with a razor at your throat and you knew to step out of your self reflection and speak as one to claim the other would cross a red line and your voice would wash the world in your blood

Connection is risk.

Most people prefer distance.

I am not an experience.

I require presence.

Spectators never understand from a distance.

Hybrid Project: