The outer world feels like a dream—blurry, distant, untouchable. The vehicles rushing down the roads, the people hurrying past, even the still buildings seem unreal, as if I’ll wake up at any moment and they’ll dissolve before my eyes.
Only when someone’s gaze meets mine do I remember that I exist—that they see me just as I see them. And in that instant, I want to vanish, to become translucent.
Yet nature softens this strangeness. The sky above me is the same one I see from the roof of my home. The trees sway as if to greet me. The wind brushes against my skin, whispering not to worry. These small moments remind me that I belong, that this is real. They are the thread that ties me back to the world.
Read this next: The Floating Soul
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