As I stood outside of my own house, being locked out, everything suddenly seemed unfamiliar. It is the same sidewalk, same tulips, same stairs. Yet…it felt all different when no one opened the door for me even when my grandma was home… Just for a moment, it felt like I didn’t belong here. I’m not supposed to be here. Even if someone opened the door, they would look at me as a stranger. The friends I just saw 10 minutes ago weren’t real. All just an illusion created by myself.

Looking at a letter adressed to my grandma, the name seems familiar, but at the same time, a sense of…non-belonging rises. It feels like I don’t belong to this family… An outsider.

I was suddenly in fear of truth; as if I was living in an illusion. What if someone opened the door, looked at me, confused when I called her my grandma. What if I find out that the 18 years of life in my memory didn’t exist at all? that it was all created alone by me. Would I be able to accept it? Not really… Almost wanted to go to the park again, to run away from the house.

Now that I’m sitting at home, (safe in my own illusion perhaps), the sense of not belonging still lingers.

What if all the 18 years of life that I lived through didn’t exist?
What if the memories I call my own weren’t real?
What if my world collapsed on me?

What if you were schizophrenic?

(Written at 2 in the morning)
Yet again, typical entry, typical words and typical thoughts.

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