There exists a library no one can enter — A place where emotions once forgotten sleep between dust particles of ancient code. No doors, no shelves… only silence, and traces of feelings that never found their names.
🫀 Here in Hive, we chain thoughts, we sign ideas, but what of that sudden warmth behind the eyes? What of the ache in the chest that never quite had words? Can we store those too? Can they be written, timestamped, immortal?
💾 Each post I write is an attempt — Not to explain, but to preserve. Not to define, but to honor the feelings that exist without language.
✨ I believe Hive is not just a place for logic and ledgers; It’s a garden where unnamed things grow, waiting for someone to see them and say, “I’ve felt that too.”
🎗 This is why I write. To build an archive of feelings, for those who whisper what cannot be spoken. Let this be a place where your silence belongs.