I recall events. They happened, and I know they happened. Yet, they seem hazy, like distant dreams. I wonder: are they my own? Some nights I open my eyes to see sheets, and walls that are not my own. Only to then snap back into the reality that I am, in fact, in my own room. I feel as though I am striding through dazed seas of dreams and distant memories. What is real? What is imagination? I don't know the answer anymore. As I walk along the streets, grey figures in the shape of human's float past me. I look at them, as they pass by. "Who are these people? What are they?" I wonder. I look at my open palm. "Is this it? Is this what plunging into madness feels like?" Then, I remember something. "Blue...something about blue. What was it? And...a girl. What was her name? Oh dear, it seems I've forgotten. But, it was important! I know it!" I wonder when this all started, and when it will end. I cannot say; thus, none can say. I have only to continue walking forward, and pray I may find answers.
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