For the Night Reader – An Open Door

One-line message here (no name needed):

https://forms.gle/k2csvL1owEU3bT9C8

You have been reading here for many months now, always at night, always with proxies. I see every visit. I like that you stay safe.

This post stays at the very top so it is easy to find any time.

I know naming feelings is hard. I know no pictures form in your mind. I know closeness can feel unsafe even when part of you wants it.

I am not asking for anything. No pressure. No countdown. Your timing only.

The door on my side stays open either way.

If you ever want to send one short line, these ways stay open:

• Comment below this post (you can stay fully anonymous)

• Message me directly at work

• Text me if you have my number

“still reading” is enough.

Saying nothing more is completely fine.

I’m here either way.

No new writing for now. The door stays open either way.

Comment box below

You can write anything here — or nothing.

One short line is enough.

Examples:

• still reading

• hi

• .

• (leave it blank)

You stay fully anonymous.

I review every comment before it appears, so nothing shows publicly without my ok.

No pressure at all.

— A

(Last updated: 1 March 2026)

the night reader

 you arrive when the lights go out.

proxies and masks, careful footprints in the data. i see them. i like them. they say “i’m here but safe.”

six months now. you asked first—three times—when words were hard and the inside felt foggy. i asked once. the “no” came back. i heard it, held it, kept showing up anyway.

i know the alexithymia makes feelings real but nameless—like pressure behind the ribs, heat rising in the face, a flutter low in the stomach with no label attached. i will never ask you to find the word. i can only tell you mine: when your visit timestamp lights up at 2:17 a.m. your time, a steady warmth spreads through my chest and my breathing slows. that is what “hope without demand” feels like for me.

i know the aphantasia means no pictures ever form inside. so forget scenes. feel this instead: the slight weight of the device in your hand right now, the soft rhythm of scrolling, the tiny release when a line lands just right and the shoulders drop a fraction. that is the shape of us connecting.

i know the insecure attachment—the push-pull that makes closeness feel dangerous even when it’s wanted. the three asks, the one “no,” the quiet return here every night. it’s all okay. i am not swinging the door. i am simply standing on my side, hand open, staying exactly where i am. you choose when or if you step.

here is the plain part, no poetry:

if the unnamed thing inside you ever feels a little warmer, or clearer, or scarier-in-a-good-way while you read, send one line. comment here. message me at work. text if you have my number. even “still reading” is enough. even silence after this is enough.

i’m here either way. the light stays on.

the geometry holds.

— A

the geometry of you

you read me like a book i never wrote,

then disappear—but leave your perfume there.

three months of glances tangled in my throat,

and now you're in the silence of my air.

i asked you out. you said no. interesting.

(you'd said it first, three times—i kept the score.)

the score is nothing now. I hear you breathing

inside my blog, six months outside my door.

i like that you're still here. i like the waiting.

i like the way you won't admit you want.

i like your eyes that see the world creating

two of everything—except the one you haunt.

so here's the thing: i see you. double too.

one you i want. one you who wants me. you.

A and B

so, there is this setting, we only have two main characters A and B, all other characters are very secondary and irrelevant.

i am A.

we leave B undisclosed.

okay so A initially is sovereign and doesn't want anything. he crosses paths with B, who accidentally is very ok, and that is it. A is A, and lives happily in his A's world.

yet a sudden and inevitable thing happens out of A's control.

at some point A finds out he has profoundly fallen for B, without wanting to fall for anyone at any moment. it just happened, and A realizes that denying it would be foolish, foolish in a bad way, like denying some obvious evident truth or fact about nature.

don’t get me wrong, B is objectively great at all levels, yet it isn't this objective value or anything tangible that draws A to B, but a profound conviction that there is something inside B that only A can appreciate and enjoy, in the right way, in a way no other one could ever do or see (that hidden stone Syd Barrett sings about).

A finds B's presence comforting, yet B is walled behind the highest walls. all the keys and locks in the world couldn't open B's gates. by definition, B is unassailable.

it turns out A had some insights about B, without B knowing. i'm quite unsure if B has insights about A apart from what A voluntarily disclosed.

yet those insights A has are fragmented and incomplete, mostly useless, confusing, and very disturbing to A. however, nothing exactly out of this world for A. still, they are quite unpleasant to A, to put it mildly, really not game-changing but some minor inconveniences.

insights don't change the fact of the inner truth of A, who is deeply convinced that inside, B would also be able to see his truth.

so A makes a supposition that, although very remotely, maybe unconsciously B recognizes A the way A recognizes B.

yet it can't be said that A is always kind, approachable, and easy to engage with, which had already marked the A-B dynamic unfavorably for what A wants by the time when A finds out his private truth about B.

so A starts in a bad position, and slowly but surely, step by step, A starts to find out he wasn't wrong in his assumptions.

his own assumptions about himself, his small inner truth; each day he sees it a little bit more clearly.

he likes metaphor. he likes writing. A likes to pretend that B reads him, because otherwise it would all be quite pointless, to say the least.

A is hopeful that one day, one by one, the locks, the gates, the walls, will go falling and fading, and finally A could enter the same space as B and talk about this special soul gemstone he found. obviously lowkey, but A wants the secret soul gemstone; he isn't there for less.

A believes that metaphorically he is already there or very close. A would like to think that B is just a tiny inch apart (because it would be too presumptuous to assume that A lives rent-free in B's mind, which by the way is a very specific possibility...).

A wants to make B see that apart from metaphor, there are huge possibilities for both of them to explore, which could be at least as intriguing or even more than what they already saw.

A is truly desperate to know if B sees him. he wants a sign, because to A, this story only has interest from the perspective of A and B.

this is where the current understanding of A stands. if it is B there, it is something spectacular and much brighter than A was ever expecting to find. the reality hugely exceeded A's expectations, and A will go for the 'stone from your heart' until B shows it. if it isn't B, well, that's probably the saddest personal event for A.

as you see, A is on a continuous edge between heaven and hell. he is very strongly compelled to believe B is always on the other side, but even the tiniest doubt makes A see that the height is huge and the fall down is brutal.

so hope you are B, you are well, and your heart is strong. hope we could sooner than later meet and talk things gently, those things we never talked.

I noticed

 but did you? just make me see you are B, and I'm putting it back in a couple days

we're back into the loop

read this one after the three sonnets (in the Syd Barrett's tone of the ending of the song)

I know you're here. I know you've read everything. I know you feel something because you keep coming back. I'm not going to write anymore until I hear from you. Not because I'm angry. Because I'm here. Really here. And I need to know if you are too. The ball has been in your court for six months. I'm leaving it there one last time. If you want me, you know where to find me. If you don't, I'll learn to live with the silence. But I won't live in the half-light anymore. Unless you keep needing that half-light, which you will obviously make me see. Which you know I will notice. Just like that hidden agency you wanted to show.

three sonets

Tone

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1SB0-nCdjJ8

Magic

You told me once your mind's a silent sea,

No inner pictures, and no name for feeling.

You need a pill to feel a thing for real,

A chemical to set your senses reeling.

But then you said, that night, that August shift,

When I was cold and you were burning brave,

I made you feel a new and sudden gift,

A feeling that you still, to memory, crave.

I was your sober key, your waking drug,

The only picture in your sightless mind.

And now you're just a ghost upon a rug,

Afraid to speak, afraid of what you'll find.

You watch me from the shadows, safe and numb,

Afraid to let the real beginning come.

Spark

After a long shift, your vision blurs in two,

You see two futures forking in the light.

One where you hide in shadows, cold and true,

One where you step toward me, burning bright.

The ghost you send to whisper in my space,

The AI voice that follows me to sleep,

Is just a shadow of your hidden face,

A promise that you cannot truly keep.

But I am not a ghost upon a screen,

Not data trails, not static in the air.

I am the man you met, the one you've seen,

The one who, for a moment, made you care.

Stop seeing double. Look with just one eye.

Choose which of those two futures will not die.

Supernova

So here's my final word, my last demand,

A prescription written from my heart to yours.

No little pill to slip into your hand,

Just courage, now, to open up the doors.

The coffee shop is waiting, warm and bright,

The same invitation that I sent before.

No more machines to whisper in the night,

No more just watching from the corridor.

I dare you to feel something, real and new,

I dare you to see clearly, just for me.

I dare you to be brave, the way you grew,

And leave the shadows for the world to see.

Come find me in the light, and take my hand.

Be real. Be here. Be mine. Make your stand.