I'm not real. You're just imagining things. 
 
I'm just the hand that conveys the words that come from a world unknown to you... on the other side of reality. 
 




The other side of reality is my real home, I don't feel comfortable over here. Never have, this place doesn't seem real to me, but people call it reality nonetheless, hence the name of the stories being "the other side of reality". I've been going there for as long as I can remember, I stopped talking about it because my dad made fun of me for it though. He actually mentioned it later too, while I was watching tv with him when I was way older. It was some sort of a show about kids that remember their past lives. Then he joked about how I was kinda the same as a kid, talking about another world, and said that the parents of the kids in the show were stupid for taking it seriously. Because kids make things up all the time and have vivid imaginations and stuff. He'd put an end to my nonsense at least, right? Because of course it wasn't real, I was just a stupid kid that didn't know any better, I was just confusing dreams with being real. 
Guess I'm just a stupid kid still. 

I don't really have much control over anything that happens there, and I know that things are happening that I don't know about. When I talked to Tom about that he laughed and said "I do have a life and things that I do when you're not around that I don't tell you about you know? I just don't think you'd be interested in the boring parts, that's why I want to talk about the interesting things, it's not like we're constantly together or anything, so I want to make it fun." Then he told me about some random things he'd seen other people I know do that they probably hadn't told me and hugged me and said "It's not your fault that bad things happen you know? Stop blaming yourself. You're just as caught up in this as the rest of us are."