Dear Stranger,
The world is a strange place, and life is a nonsensical nightmare I often thought I wasn't meant to live.
When I was child I read until the early hours of the morning, hiding my flashlight under the covers. My mother knew of course, but she wasn't gonna stop a kid from reading.
I started reading again two years ago, back at the hospital, when all I had was time. It felt right, normal, like I'd never stopped, but it would never feel like it used to.
My imagination struggles as I go on, I've learnt to control it, shut if off so it doesn't interfere with my life. The derealization got too bad, I forced myself to stop daydreaming, stop escaping. I didn't know it would be so hard to reverse.
This is my problem of course, I choose the extreme, banished my imagination from my own mind, I can't escape anymore, not ever, not even when I'm lying in bed struggling to find sleep because all I can think about is reality, when I need to most.
I used to see the world in a blur, feel it with only half of me. Now I see clear, my fingers feel the full force of this hard reality, and the color is drained, there are no secret doors or magical forests, not out there and not in my mind.
I hope I'll find the magic again soon, whether it's real or not.
Love, C