Last night he complained to me “Nothing is real anymore.” he didn’t feel that he was here. Sure, the body was present, but he thought he was looking at himself existing as if he wasn’t aware, but was watching himself live through his eyes.
“Let me know when I wake up” He lamented as he crashed open his cigarette box. I was worried about his statement, but he was always too dreamy for me. I felt that he always spoke in code, and I was never smart enough to solve it.
“You’re awake. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be talking to me.” I hoped he would feel better at my dose of reality.
He explored his eyes in the sky as if he was looking for random words to put together. “No, I feel like a canary, seeking shelter in a cage.”