Our World Isn't Real

I am scared. I have been sitting in my corner shaking in fear for months now, if that. I don’t know if I want to live anymore.

I feel like everything is focused on me and everyone else is doing absolutely nothing, but walking around and talking to other people. I feel like someone is reading my thoughts, like they know what I am thinking right now. And I can’t stop it.

There is someone who created me, and I am not talking about my parents. It started when I heard someone else's voice in my head. Since then I have been living in a loop that nobody can stop. The cycle keeps on happening. Nothing here is real! Not me! Not my parents! Not my bedroom! Nothing!

Time stays the same and no matter what, even when it ends someone finds it and starts it all over again.

My memories are fake. They never really happened. This whole time I have been right here in this room. And only I remember. Soon, my mother will walk into the room and ask me if I am alright. I will answer her and then the cycle will start all over again.

As on cue, my mother walks into my room. Her warm smile on her face, and her eyes filled with sadness and concern.

“Sweetheart,” she says, “what's wrong?”

“M-mother,” I say,

“Someone is reading this story again.”