This Is Real

Austen Clare. That's who I am. 17 years. That's how old I am. Stupid. That's the word I use to describe the human population. Interesting. That's the word I associate with everything. Everything. The thing I think about most. Most. What consumes my brain. Brain. What keeps me alive and holds everything I've learned like my name; Austen Clare. And so on it goes. It could turn into something else, maybe talking about spoons, who knows? There's hundreds, thousands, millions, of possible outcomes to this conversation I'm having with myself.
That's the thing about life, it's always changing and you will never know what's next, you won't even know if any of it's real. But this? This. Is. Real.