Tati

Real but not

Sitting in the backseat of my sisters car as we drove on the road, the car continuing to break down, the wheel locking up. I couldn’t help but think it all looked so real, for it to be so fake feeling at the same time.

The scene ahead of me, an older sister anxiously clutching at the wheel, praying that God would let us at least make it home before the car turned off completely. My mom right beside her attempting to calm her down as the car stuttered, the wheel getting harder and harder to turn. The droplets of rain hitting the window, sliding down, a random yet continuous pattern. Incredible graphics, I’d thought, it’s like I’m really here despite not really being here.

A novel experience, I told my sister, as we returned home from the parking lot where we’d left the now completely dead car. She asked how I felt about it. That was all I could say. Why would I tell her it just felt like a game?
Surreal.

Its the same online. When I return from immersion, back inside my head looking out. All I feel is that these people on the other side of the screen aren’t even real. Just text lighting up my face in the darkness. This could be considered ignorance, not caring, or in this case, not acknowledging that other people and things genuinely exist in this world. However, what if I know that they exist, its just me that isn’t actually here, not apart of the world in a way that is genuine and intimate and real. A spectator. A player. Despite how surreal my perception of the world is, I don’t play with peoples emotions. At least not intentionally.

Voices and words on a screen with nothing connected, nothing real for me. Im alone.

People surrounding me, working snd talking and laughing with each other and I am alone. Silent and forgotten- correction, unknown. Never known. Never acknowledged. Perhaps I was never there to begin with. Or maybe I have a personality that makes forgettable, invisible, to others. It seems that my body is not too big to make myself unseen. A mix of satisfaction and /alone/ at that statement.

My autocorrect doesn’t work properly anymore.

What is real and what is fake. I think that life is a joke. The universe doesn’t care about us. Life simply is and attaching any meaning to it would only allow yourself to get made a fool out of by the world itself. If you’re too serious youll feel bad. If you’re too silly youll feel bad. If you’re too quiet too loud too anything

I wonder. Do other people also feel bad? At this point I just want someone to tell me face to face but that means asking and that means being seen and having an opinion formed about me and ohhhh there goes my irrational fear of judgement.

Life is bad in general if you think about it too hard. It’s too bad I think too much. I should be sleep. What an idiot.