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?