Is it just me or can I imagine myself doing certain stuff to a degree that feel so true? An image of myself that is as clear as water…

That’s me…

Yes, I’m jumping off that building.

Yes, I find myself staring into the distance and seeing odd figures taking shape as they are slowly making their way closer and closer so that I can now see them—a horrendous beast watching with such a big grin on their face.

Yes, I murdered them, I felt them… I felt the pain of killing me. I mean them…

Yes, I am covered in yummy chocolate.

Yes, my lover is cheating on me.

Yes, you’re not real… you can’t be…

I’m stuck. But how. How can I be trapped by my own mind? I don’t understand your MY MIND. I should be the one to control who I am. Or is it that… who I am is also just a fraction of my imagination? Is being me just another delusion? Who knows… I mean…