the last song.
the first shadow.
Every night leaves something behind.
This one left a feeling.
everybody left.
the screen stayed.
At 03:33, the room went quiet. The music ended. The little red candles on the monitor kept moving.
No grand revelation. Just a cold glow, an open tab, and that strange hollow feeling after too much of everything.
Then the reflection in the screen moved a second too late.
Only once the drugs are doneDo I feel like dying, I feel like dyingOnly once the drugs are doneDo I feel like dying, I feel like dyingI feel like
it didn't have a name.
so we gave it one.
Long hair. Red lines. A chain that looked suspiciously like a hundred open tabs. It was every unsent message, every late-night spiral, every “I'm fine” dropped into the group chat.
We called it feel like dying. A dark joke with a pulse. A fictional ghost made from a very familiar internet mood.
The ghost was never alone. The others had been watching from their own screens.
a little broken.
still connected.
$FEELIKEDIE lives in the space between a horror sketchbook and a group chat that should have gone to bed six hours ago.
The art is dark. The humor is darker. But someone on the other side of the screen gets it. That's the whole thing.
FIND THE OTHER SHADOWS ↗see you on
the other side.
For the beautifully unhinged, the terminally online, and everyone still awake.