Chaos crawls into my mind like a living storm, a creature made of whispers and sharp-edged shadows. It coils around my thoughts, swallowing them whole, until the boundaries between what I fear and what I am begin to blur. It feasts on the soft parts of me first... the quiet hopes, the gentle sparks gnawing at them until their glow trembles and fades. Inside, it feels like being pulled into a whirlpool made of my own doubts. Every turn drags me deeper, tighter, until my soul feels stretched thin, like smoke trying to hold its shape in a hurricane. My light, whatever warmth I had flickers like a dying flame caught under a cold hand, smothered before it can rise. And yet the chaos keeps moving, hungry and tireless. It devours in silence, it swallows without mercy, leaving me wandering through an inner night where even my own shadow feels lost.