Prologue

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Reader's p.o.v. For most of the story. I'll tell you if otherwise. (I do not own any of the art)

I've always known I was different.

I saw things no one else could. I can only tell those close to me. Anyone else might harm me for being different. 

I don't feel emotions like everyone else. I can pretend well enough to make my brain say I feel them, but I feel emptiness. Scary emptiness. I feel myself losing my humanity. 

Last time I told of my world to someone, I ended up with a counselor for four years. I researched things like schizophrenia and it's treatments. I don't want that. I don't want to lose my friends in my world.

My world has no true name, not can anyone in the "real" world see anything in it. Only me. I am the bridge, with my body in the "real" world and everything else in my world. 

I want to be normal.

I want to live a normal life.

But I can't.

I never will live a normal life.




I can only pretend.

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