Sometimes I think my reality is merely a long-sustained illusion.
The relationships that I cultivate and nourish, the walls I construct around myself, the boxes that I move myself to and from day after day, the images I have of myself, and the problems that I envision with their solutions. Am I always just a slight mind-slip away from seeing them as nothing more than a fiction? How important is it to them that I continue to believe and "progress" and shape them? What if I called them out and question their validity? Would they sustain or collapse? How hard would it be to wake up and be a completely different person-- with a different personality, face, and life? Do I want to? Is this what I am, or is this merely what my path has made me into?
Thoughts feel like a swarm of insects tonight. Hot and infectious, and there seems to be no escape.