And now the sudden conviction that I am lying, that this is an elaborate fiction I am telling myself.  And the belief that I could – and should – ignore it all and apply my intelligence to the problem of making a success of my life while remaining unaware of what is happening inside me.

*checks all posts for logical inconsistencies, finds many* See, evidence against me?

I never knew what it was like to feel real until I was an adult.

And then the voice, which shouts deafeningly:

AND ALL THIS IS NORMAL!

(I am hungry. I cannot eat.)

And I’m asking, is it?

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