"You know what's the worst part about being a writer?"
"Enlighten me."
"You can't really differentiate between reality and fiction."
He looked confused, so she tried to explain - "For a writer there's always a thin line separating the fictional realm from the real one. The scary thing is, at most times the line is a little too blurry. Most of my stories are what really happened, parts of them are made up. Some things I write about, I've dreamt about. Others, I wish would happen."
She looked to see if he was bored, but his attention was rapt so she continued - "Over time, you give up all the segregations and start seeing everything in terms of words, in terms of stories. Like right now, you could really be here but could just as well be a figment of my imagination."
He pulled her hair - "I'm real."
"Oh I know." She said.
"Just making sure you do. Anyway, I still don't see how this is bad."
"Right now you're here, for real. When you're not, I'll still make you up with words."
His forehead creased so she interrupted him before he could even speak - "Just..bear with me. I'm not accusing you of leaving me. Yet." His brows furrowed further. "Okay..just listen."
"So when you're gone, IF you're gone, I'll still think of you. And when I think, I write. So I'll write you up to be this magnificent, better version of yourself because that's how you think of things in retrospect. I'll keep changing things I don't like about you, because I can. You won't be here to say no. So I'll just write what I want and I'll end up creating this totally different person - fictional, but parts of him would be real. So even when he is you, he technically isn't. That's where the line blurs. I'll project you the way I want to, not how you really are. That's how powerful words are, they can make you believe anything they say."
He was silent, she turned around to face an empty couch. She sighed. The hallucinations had been getting worse.
"Enlighten me."
"You can't really differentiate between reality and fiction."
He looked confused, so she tried to explain - "For a writer there's always a thin line separating the fictional realm from the real one. The scary thing is, at most times the line is a little too blurry. Most of my stories are what really happened, parts of them are made up. Some things I write about, I've dreamt about. Others, I wish would happen."
She looked to see if he was bored, but his attention was rapt so she continued - "Over time, you give up all the segregations and start seeing everything in terms of words, in terms of stories. Like right now, you could really be here but could just as well be a figment of my imagination."
He pulled her hair - "I'm real."
"Oh I know." She said.
"Just making sure you do. Anyway, I still don't see how this is bad."
"Right now you're here, for real. When you're not, I'll still make you up with words."
His forehead creased so she interrupted him before he could even speak - "Just..bear with me. I'm not accusing you of leaving me. Yet." His brows furrowed further. "Okay..just listen."
"So when you're gone, IF you're gone, I'll still think of you. And when I think, I write. So I'll write you up to be this magnificent, better version of yourself because that's how you think of things in retrospect. I'll keep changing things I don't like about you, because I can. You won't be here to say no. So I'll just write what I want and I'll end up creating this totally different person - fictional, but parts of him would be real. So even when he is you, he technically isn't. That's where the line blurs. I'll project you the way I want to, not how you really are. That's how powerful words are, they can make you believe anything they say."
He was silent, she turned around to face an empty couch. She sighed. The hallucinations had been getting worse.
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