Existentialism of a main character.

Emily is the main character of a novel I'm reading. This series of poems (written by her) will head the first page of each new chapter.

When my life began, the world was shapeless and without meaning.  I had very little care for anything that existed past what I could grab or bite.

Later on, things began to mean and I tried to care about as few as I could.  Those around me became more than just shapes, they were really people that forced me to continue defining each thing that came into sensation.  I hated them for making things real.

There was a point where the unreality was almost gone.  Uncertainty existed only in the darkness of night and the rare recesses of human action.  I was devastated, and stayed in my room, trying desperately to recapture that chaos in my dreams.  But even my dreams clung to reality like a wet shirt.

The End

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