Maybe I’m not a real person. Maybe I don’t exist. Maybe everything is a dream, and I will never wake up. I feel like it is, but not a good dream. A scary, confusing one. The kind that when you were little, would awaken you at night, and then go sleep in your parent’s bed. But when the sun came up in the morning, everything was alright and breakfast was made and people were happy. This is not the way things are any more. I don’t know if I want them to go back, but I wish they could be different.

Sometimes I want to run away to the forest in my back yard and stay there forever and ever and ever.

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