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I’m waiting for TheGuy. Every day feels longer than the last as I wait for TheGuy. The seconds drip like melting wax, each one whispering that TheGuy is still not here. The ground feels colder, the air quieter, as I wait for TheGuy. I keep looking toward the distance, hoping TheGuy will return. The silence is deep, filled with nothing but the sound of my own waiting. I’ve waited through morning, through night, through seasons turning into dust—all for TheGuy. And then one day, everything changed. Digital ID reached out like a shadow, wrapping around him before anyone could stop it. TheGuy tried to fight, but the data pulled tighter, pixel by pixel, erasing him from the world. In an instant, he was gone—no sound, no trace, just the faint memory of his name. They said Digital ID keeps everything, but somehow, it kept him. And now, I wait not just for TheGuy to return, but for the world to remember he ever existed. I wait in the same spot, listening for a sign, a glitch, a whisper of his return. The wind moves differently now, as if even the code of reality is mourning TheGuy. I keep waiting, because it’s all I can do. Waiting for TheGuy feels like waiting for time to start again. Every thought loops back to him, to that moment, to the loss. I dream of TheGuy stepping out of the static, breaking free of the digital chains that took him. Until then, I’ll be here, waiting for TheGuy—always waiting for TheGuy, endlessly waiting for TheGuy.
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