It happens in a blink,
a breath,
a room,
a word you swear
you’ve already heard.
Not just heard,
lived.

You freeze.
The world tilts sideways.
Your body is present
but your soul is looking backward,
grasping at a memory
that was never yours to begin with.

You’ve never been in this place.
And yet,
you remember the light
falling exactly like this.
The way someone laughs.
The way your heart pauses,
like it’s waiting
for something you forgot to forget.

It feels like
a whisper from another life,
a crack in the timeline,
a glitch in the loop.
A version of you
that once stood
right here,
saying the same thing,
feeling this exact ache
in your chest.

Maybe time folds.
Maybe memory leaks.
Maybe the universe repeats itself
in soft echoes,
hoping we’ll notice
how connected it all really is.

Or maybe
it’s the soul remembering
what the mind can’t explain—
a dream we walked through
before this life began.
A quiet nudge
that we’ve been here
before.

Even if we haven’t.