top of page

Ever since I was a young child, I would have these sudden creeping thoughts: What if this moment is the only thing that's real? What if this second is the only second I've ever experienced, and all my memories of yesterday are backstories implanted in me? What if I'm the only one that exists, and everything else is an illusion I've made up? 

As I grew, so did the thoughts. What if souls are entities that drifted through- floated into a person, then onto the next? Am I the radio, or the radio waves? What if I'm an infinite being, dreaming up a finite existence? What if I'm really in the year 2045, where reality has become so bleak that I'm plugged into a life-simulator, dreaming through my yesteryears? What if this is all a simulation, and who I am is just a character someone else has written?

Sometimes the thoughts came to me like whispered words carried by a breeze, words I could ponder with a shiver that passed as quickly as the wind. Other times, the thoughts would seize me, shake me violently with a secret knowledge- NONE OF THIS, NONE OF THIS IS REAL.


bottom of page