i am (not) real

I died and woke up surrounded by white, still able to think, unable to forget.

Just something I wrote during an English lesson. /TRIGGER WARNING/ Brief hints at suicide and (very small) mentions of self harm, so please read with caution. In first person.

Cover edited by me, a screenshot of a poem called 'we used to talk on the phone every single day (noonereallyknowshowitgoes)', which I think is by Pete Wentz, but I can't be sure. The title is also from this poem.