Stood in the bathroom for two hours today. Scissors in hand. Hair on the floor. Mirror showing a stranger. But my tagged photos still show the old me. My face keeps appearing in other people's Story highlights. Each refresh brings me back, unchanged. Living has become a loop of checking, changing, hiding, hoping.

The diagram shows what it's like in here. In my head. In the system. Both the same now. Each box is another room I'm trapped in, another version of me that won't die. Every morning: new hair, new face, same patterns lighting up. The system knows me better than my own mirror. How many times have you tried to vanish today?