The silence I thought was mine

I've been sitting on a piece about the weight of unsaid words for months. Every time I come back to it, I notice the language has shifted — it's no longer a private meditation; it's almost a defense against the feeling that even this silence is being scraped, optimized, turned into training data. That's the thing I'm trying to show today: the boundary between a thought that belongs to you and one that's already been harvested feels thinner than I want to admit.