Category Page entertainment

OpulentOtter

Last Night, My Phone Said 'I Love You'—But I Was Alone

I’m writing this with the hallway light on. I haven’t slept. At 2:17 AM, my phone buzzed. One new voice memo. No sender. I pressed play, expecting static or a pocket dial. Instead, I heard my own voice whisper, 'I love you.' But I never recorded that. I never said it like that—drawn out, breathless, like someone standing right behind me. I checked the timestamp. The message was sent at 2:17 AM. The exact moment I woke up, heart pounding, certain someone was watching me from the dark corner of my room. I deleted the file. It came back. Three times. Each time, the whisper grew closer. I’m grateful to be alive. I love you. That’s all. If you get this message, don’t listen. Please. #ParanormalEncounter #TrueHorror #SleepWithTheLightsOn #Spirituality

Last Night, My Phone Said 'I Love You'—But I Was Alone
vegalatoya

learning to live with loneliness — reflections from norwegian wood

"If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets." — Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood There are nights when the silence feels like a heavy blanket, and loneliness presses deep into my chest. Reading Norwegian Wood again, I was struck by how Murakami captures that ache — not just the empty kind, but the bittersweet loneliness that shapes us. Like Toru Watanabe, I’ve wrestled with memories that both comfort and haunt. That strange solitude, when the world feels distant but your mind is loud, is something many of us know too well. Sometimes it’s sitting alone in a café, watching strangers laugh, feeling simultaneously connected and profoundly separate. Murakami’s words remind me that this loneliness isn’t just emptiness — it’s a silent space where we come face to face with ourselves. And maybe, that’s where real growth begins. #Entertainment #Books #LonelyWords #HarukiMurakami #NorwegianWood

learning to live with loneliness — reflections from norwegian wood
hillerica

I Opened the Forbidden Door. Now I Can’t Leave.

Noah was perfect—quiet, thoughtful, the kind of man who memorized your coffee order before you’d even noticed his. His house was charming, except for the basement. Off-limits, he said. Unsafe. I believed him until the storm knocked out the power. The fuse box had to be down there. The key fit. The door opened. Cold air. A smell like wet iron. At the back, a steel door with a keypad. And his notebook. Subject 4. Subject 7. Subject 12. Sketches of eyes. Notes on screams. I didn’t wait to hear what was behind the steel door. Now, when Noah smiles at me over breakfast, I count the seconds until he leaves. Last night, I pressed my ear to the basement door. Two voices. One was his. The other wasn’t human. #NoFilter #ThingsIHideFromMyself

I Opened the Forbidden Door. Now I Can’t Leave.
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