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Chapter 2 - Day Two: When the Water Turned Red

The world is dying,

and I feel it in my chest —

a slow, aching collapse

like the Earth itself is weeping

beneath my skin.

I thought we were better.

I thought humanity had a heart.

But all I see now

is hunger without wisdom,

creation without care,

and dreams that bleed.

Do we even feel anymore?

Or have we traded empathy

for empty desires —

watching the world burn

while we chase the next thing?

Everything is crying.

The wind mourns.

The oceans scream.

The animals disappear

one by one,

like forgotten stories

lost to greed.

And I —

I can't unsee it.

Curiosity,

once sacred and pure,

has led the clearest water

to redness.

To ruin.

To silence.

I carry this grief

not as weakness,

but as witness.

Because someone must remember

the way the Earth once sang,

the way innocence once felt,

the way we were meant

to live — not conquer.

I don't want to fall asleep

in this dream of destruction.

I want to wake,

and if I must cry for the world,

I will.

Because maybe

that's where the healing begins.

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