Nothing feels real. It feels like outside of these walls, there is nothing. Just a black nothingness where I will fall out of the doorway and keep falling, forever and ever and ever. It feels like there will not be a tomorrow. I will go to bed and I will not wake up. Or I will wake up and be surrounded by nothing. Everything is tinged with grey and everything feels wrong. I don't feel like I belong. Anything and everything that I'm not looking at, just doesn't exist. And if it does, it exists only in memories. My parents still exist, inside of their old victorian house, still sitting in their same office chairs, at their same desks, doing the same old things. Even though they haven't existed in that way for a long time. And I am not who I am supposed to be. I am someone else. Someone in the city, running from their problems on a cold rainy night through the glowing lights of the neon signs on every store front window. But I'm not. I'm here. But I'm not. I'm in the car, driving to North Carolina with my parents for my grandmother's wake. It's dark out and all I can see are the black hills towering above me as we pass through virginia on our way. I'm scared and carsick. But I'm not there. I'm here in the present where nothing feels real. And yet I'm not. I keep shifting from reality to reality. Even though my eyes can see the present, my head sees the past and they overlap in my vision.