Creative Writing

#1(Real)

I find myself enclosed in a room. It's not a room really, more like a capsule. A capsule that will contain everything and yet nothing. It's small, but at the same time it's the largest thing in existence. It's soft inside while also being harder than a rock. The enclosure smells like a jail cell even though it also smells like freedom. I can't decide whether I am a prisoner or if I am truly free to my own devices. This place manipulates your senses in such a way that you can't differentiate what is real and what is fiction.

I can't see anything. It's not dark or bright. It's just empty. Although I can't see, it's like my line of vision continues on forever, almost as if I am watching a never ending loop of time.

All I hear is buzzing, but I also hear absolute silence.

People often say the air tastes stale, but I can't say the same. My mouth tastes like age, if you can really say that age has a taste.

I feel lost inside my own mind. Lost. What does that really mean? You can lose something just as easily as you can find it, so is it really lost? Am I lost right now, inside this strange capsule? Or do I just feel lost, since everything around me is like a hologram? A hologram that I can somehow feel. A hologram that I can hear. A hologram that is tangible, but also synthetic.

In a sense, everything that is real is also your imagination at the same time. No matter what, your senses are telling you the truth while lying to you at the same time. Time. I can't experience time. I know it passes but I don't know how fast or slow it travels.

Feelings aren't truly real. At least to me they aren't. I haven't felt anything that tells me I am real my whole life. So, am I real? What exactly does real mean?