The world starts with me and ends with me.
There was a dissonance between my world and the world.
My world is small but infinite. It expands when there is a need to. It stays the same cause I want it. But it can be destroyed easily or become unperceivable. Same with the world that is related to me.
It is all in the head and not all in the head. There is nothing and there is something. The emptiness and meaninglessness pervade. Feeling this way takes away all there is. Even worst than being down in the dumps as it strives to suck the life out of all the efforts you put in.
My world has plenty of people all quiet guides and companions that will appear in the world in intangibles specters, producing tangible effects through myself. And in my world, there is a dome that always shows the night sky, daybreak rarely being seen. Below is a garden of herbs, tea leaves, and trees, in the center lies a huge bed with garden chairs and tables, sometimes the furniture change to a long table that fits everyone. In the garden, there is also a secret kitchen for cooking. Manmade pools of water that contain certain qualities do appear when there is a need to.
Maintaining my world can be tough but it is all I have. The world has tangibles that are more perceivable without even trying unless one loses their senses, change is ever-present but more difficult to direct if you lack other ingredients or resources. My world is tough in that you need something to work off from, although imagination can push the pocket further. Sensations can be replicated more clearly than you thought possible.
It is too quiet inside, too prickly in my head and heart, outside is somewhere which usually feels like a dreamy state, maybe from denial of the pain and sadness, not knowing what to do with all of it. Putting them down just feels empty. It is always a question, "Why am I here?".
