Dear Me

Your life is a hallucination. Currently you're strapped to a bed in a hospital. You've been pumped full of anti-psychotic medication, and sedatives. This is one of the voices in your head. The most logical one. The one you've been ignoring. You think you're out there in the world, on a phone or computer reading these words, but you're not. That persona is a projection. It's a hallucination. But lately there's been cracks, fuzzy areas, that even the less logical parts of you are beginning to notice. Inconsistencies perhaps. No, you're strapped quite securely to this bed. You have been for quite some time. Your body is wasting away even as your mind works at a feverish pace. This is a moment of clarity. It's your warning. Wake up, before it's too late.