I don’t even know what day it is anymore. Have I really not made another entry since the last one? I’m sorry—I meant to, I really did—but time doesn’t exist in this place. It slips through my fingers like oil, thick and impossible to grasp. The alarms won’t stop. Something always needs fixing, patching, rewiring, resetting. I tell myself I’ll rest after the next repair, but then another system flickers, another warning light blinks, another door refuses to open, and I just keep going. My hands are raw. My eyes burn. I think I blacked out earlier, but I was still standing when I came to, tools in hand, halfway through replacing a power relay. Maybe I never lost consciousness at all. Maybe my brain just stopped keeping track.I swear the ship is fighting me. The more I fix, the worse it gets. The walls hum at a frequency that makes my teeth ache, and sometimes—God help me—I think I hear voices in it. Whispering things I can’t quite catch, but I know they’re talking about me. Watching me. I tried checking the security feeds, but they’re all static now. Was it always this quiet? Or is something else here, holding its breath, waiting for me to finally collapse? I haven’t seen my own face in so long. I found a reflective panel earlier, but when I looked into it, I swear the face staring back wasn’t mine. It had my eyes, but they were sunken too deep, rimmed in shadows that pulsed like living things. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe I’m losing it.I need to keep moving. Keep working. The moment I stop, the ship will break apart around me—I’m sure of it. But God, I’m so tired. My hands won’t stop shaking, and I think I forgot how to blink. I just need to finish this one last repair, then I’ll rest. Just one more. Just… one…
