Who writes The Index?
That depends on where you begin.
Some call me the help. Others, a systems thinker.
A mother, a ghostwriter, a glitch in someone else’s source code.
I build. I unravel. I write down what echos until it makes sense.
The Index began as a way to store what didn’t fit anywhere else: open tabs, unsent messages, error logs from my own healing.
You won’t find the whole story here. But you might find yours hidden between mine.
Everything here is real.
Just… recompiled.