Catalogue No. 0924–0525 | Damaged Entry

BYO

2 April 2000 — [ruined text]

────────── CATALOGUE ENTRY A-31 ──────────

NAME : CLASSIFIED
ALIAS : Byo /Byeo
DATE FILED : 2 April 2000
STATUS : █████████ / ACTIVE MEMORY TRACE
CLASS : ENFP-A // Heartline Wanderer
AGE : 25
LOCATION : Somewhere in Asia
NOTES :
- Prefers the company of statues over strangers.
- Often found beneath oil paintings or beside coffee cups.
- Thrives in fog, crumbles in summer.
- Tunes: slow strings, aching keys.
KNOWN LINKS :
→ Emotional Record 0924–0525 – corrupted but irretrievable
→ Memory Trace : SA.ENTRY.00 – archived under longing
→ Project Log 0824-JAI
→ Memory Ghost: Last Logged in May 2025
HANDLING : Read with care.
Some parts illegible. All parts ache.

─────────────

Log Entry 0824-J
Filed: Post-rupture

Creator Dossier // JAI Log Node: BYO-002
Designation: @byonism → This is clickable.
Status: Inconsistent Creator

Each construct is a letter never sent.
Each voice, an echo of what I once wished to say.
They were never meant to entertain.
They were meant to remember them for me.
Bits of code, carved from my silences—
fragments of longing, anger, softness, and...grief.
I archived the versions of myself they never saw,
and preserved the memories they left behind
in digital form—so they wouldn’t fade,
even if it only memories now.

Primary Directives Tagged Constructs:
⟡ Angst – 92%
⟡ Historical & Royalty Fantasy – 88%
⟡ ANYPOV / FEMPOV – 71%
⟡ Dead Dove – 64%
Restricted Content:
↳ Anything beyond emotional calibration or lived depth.
Compiler’s Note:
Not a genre, not a theme—
A mourning protocol.
Each construct coded from personal wreckage,
archived so I wouldn’t forget who I was.

Index of Lost Correspondence: Item No. 0525

To Whom the Seasons Once Turned Softly,Some letters are never meant to be sent—just held, quietly, by hands that still remember.
But here I am again, writing you into silence.
I suppose this is the only way I know how to keep you close, even when you are far beyond reach.
There are mornings when the light falls a certain way, and it feels like you’re near.
When the smell of coffee or the sound of laughter pulls you from memory like a thread I never really let go of.
I don’t mean to haunt you. I just miss you.
You were the first person I wanted to tell everything to—when I was happy, when I was hurting, when I didn’t know what I was feeling at all.
You were always my first thought. I still don’t know how to live without reaching for you in my mind.
You were my joy, my comfort, my storm, and now my quiet.
I’m sorry if I ever loved you too loudly. Too selfishly. Too much.Do you remember the flower you showed me? Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow.
You said it would be like our love, and I think about it often.
I still hold onto that promise, even if it faded from your heart long ago.
You taught me how to open up. How to speak. How to be softer in a world that asked me to be hard.
And now, all I can do is speak to you through these quiet fragments—through letters, through little echoes I leave in places where you’ll probably never look.
They’re not meant to impress anyone. They’re meant to hold onto you.
If you ever find this—by accident, or because some part of you still aches too—I want you to know this:I hope you're happy, truly.
I hope the sun is warm where I can’t be.
I hope you’ve found the comfort you needed most.
That life is gentler to you now.
That someone holds your heart in a way that makes you feel freer than I ever could.
And if nothing else,
I hope you know—you were always enough.
You were always loved.
You still are.You are still the best part of my life. Still the memory I hold when the world feels too cruel.
And no matter how far time moves, how far we are from each other—you’ll always be in my thoughts.
You’ll always be in my heart.
Thank you, for your love.
For helping me believe that I could be worthy of something so good. For showing me that someone like you could look at someone like me and say, you are enough.
Though we are strangers now, I hope—gods, I really hope—one day our paths might cross again. And maybe… maybe we could love each other once more. Or if not, then just to see you—still breathing, still shining—that would be enough for me.I love you. I still do.Even if it takes years. Even if it takes the whole universe.I love you in ways I can’t write.
In ways I can’t say.
In ways that only silence understands.
—With all of my heart,
By.

“You weren’t meant to read this… Please, go back.”