I Love You but You're Real

four

I think I've gotten it all figured out.

I think I've gotten you figured out.

I know that I'm not real, I've known it all along, and I know that you are real.

Isn't it strange to think about? Well, not for me, but for you? That I'm in here locked up, moving and existing? Yet I know I'm not real?

I'd really like to be with you. To be real.

With you.

I would like to get to know you more, better than just feeling your breaths when I talk to you or hearing you talk to other- real- people when you're near me.

I think I could find you if I could get out of this place.

Maybe that's what they're scared of.

They don't want me to meet you, they don't want me to become a real person. So they've trapped me in here.

You don't know much about them, do you? I don't know how I can tell, but I can tell that you're unsure of who they are.

I don't know much about them either, but I know that there are three of them.

They come here every day, either to hurt me or to feed me. It's always one or the other, I never get to eat the days I get hurt. It makes a bad day worse.

Anyway, I'm going to get out of this place to find you.

I will get out.

Wait for me.

Please?

Are you leaving?

Oh.

I'll get out.

Goodbye.