You know this specific feeling. Every conversation feels scripted. Every moment feels watched. Even alone, you're performing for an invisible audience that lives in your head.

The numbness isn't permanent. Your feelings didn't disappear—they're just waiting until you have room for them.

The parallel life you didn't choose is still running alongside this one. That's why you feel split.

You know that one place that calls you back. The bench where light hits differently. The coffee shop three neighborhoods away. The city you can't stop thinking about. Your spirit knows exactly why you need to be there.

Your grandmother lit a candle. Your ancestors made altars from stones. When did ritual require a credit card?

Your life looks fine from outside but feels like wearing someone else's clothes. That friend who's never done anything wrong leaves you depleted. The stranger you'd trust with your life after one conversation. There's a name for that.

Your body follows something older than calendars and apps. Before artificial light, women's cycles synced with the moon—and they still respond to it, whether you're aware or not.

Dreams aren't random—they're your mind processing what you won't deal with awake. Here's what the patterns mean.