The Wandering Mind
Sometimes I’m not sure if the world around me is real, or just a particularly persistent hallucination with good lighting. I squint at the walls, watching for flickers, listening for the faint mechanical hum of a broken simulation. I search, methodically, desperately, for a glitch. A seam. A programming error. Anything. But in the end, the system holds. I give up. Again. It doesn’t let me peek behind the curtain. Not even a crack. Still, I remember. Clearly. There were various moments, when I should’ve disappeared. When I should’ve fallen into the eternal blankness, that gentle fog called forgetting. But I didn’t. I stayed. I’m still here. Or at least, what’s left of me is. Just a residue of thought.