There are stories about creatures that are not meant to exist.
Things that move in the dark, that linger between worlds, that are seen only briefly and understood even less. They are called unnatural. Unexplainable. Wrong.
And yet they remain.
Not loudly. Not all at once. But persistently.
In quiet forests. In still water.
In the spaces where certainty begins to thin. Perhaps that is what it means to endure.
Not to be fully understood. Not to be easily named. But to continue, anyway. To exist in a world that does not always recognize you and still refuses to disappear.
There is something myth-like in that. Something ancient. Because not everything that is real needs to be explained.
And not everything that is unfamiliar is meant to be feared. Some things are simply… becoming.
And maybe you are too. Not lost. Not unfinished. Just not fully seen yet.
