New Book I'm currently working on : 𝙰𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚒𝚊

Inspired by: The Backrooms, Dreamcore, etc.

If you've known someone your whole life, how would it feel to know they never really existed?

They used to, or did they?

What is left of them is a memory, a clone of their prints but not them as a whole.

When did they stop existing?

What happened to the 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝 them?

And if you never really knew the person that was supposed to exist, how would you say you'd like or know the real them when you never really did.

Always longing for something that never existed.

A place that is not truly there, but not truly gone.

Was it all a memory, a dream, or is this what reality really is?

You lived but if no one alive is left to remember you, did you really exist?

Like the saying goes - when a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it even make a sound?