How can you know, where the real ends and the imagined begins. The lines are so blurry and the real... well, it always seems to startle me with a slap to the face. I'm reminded of my out-of-touchness so harshly, which makes the real seem bitter and cold. What I want and what I think I should want are so out of sync. What I think other's want... such a mystery. I have absolutely no idea anymore. As if I once knew?
How to fix this this brokenness, this out of sync....ness. I feed off of feelings, off of my response to your being against mine. I want the intensity of feeling that can happen only with another like me, perhaps at the cost of inventing a story to create that someone who is flesh, who is me, but is not me. Someone as close to me as my mind will let me dream up.
I'm absolutely terrified that in the end, everyone leaves. Dreams won't.
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