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I wonder if we’re the only ones here.

You don’t seem to be here either.

Where is everyone? I don’t want to be alone. You’ll come back, right? I’m not alone, right?

Last night, I thought I saw a person. They were a grey silhouette with such a clear shape, and they were moving. Their arm reached for me, like this person was in danger, like they needed my help. My eyes were closed, which made me think they were under my eyelids. Then I opened my eyes, and nothing was there. But when I say nothing, I mean it. Even my room wasn’t there. The bedside table, the mirror, the work desk, the walls—the room was a literal blank spot. Nothing.

I felt empty. I shut my eyes again, and the silhouette wasn’t there anymore. I wonder if someone really was there. Maybe it was you; maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe I’m not alone. Maybe someone’s watching over me. Or maybe it’s my imagination making things up, so I don’t feel lonely.

Yesterday, this was our conversation:

Scars aren’t all bad, I said.

Why are you talking as if you know? you asked.

As if I know? I said. I know something?

Do you? you asked. Do you have a scar?

I don’t, I said.

Well, I do. You stopped and asked me about your scar a few minutes later. Do you know about it?

I know, I said. (I feel like you already knew that I knew. I wonder why you asked me that question.)

You have a scar, you said.

Do I? I asked.

You remember, you said.

Do I? I asked.

You have something, you said.

I have something? I asked.

I have something, you said.

Do you? Do I? I don’t understand. If I have something, tell me. I don’t understand all this vague talk. Can you describe it to me? If you’re here, describe something. If you can’t, then I won’t be able to understand. I don’t understand vague things. I need things to be more specific. I know: chicken nuggets are specific, so use them as a talking point or something. 

The thought came into my head just now. Chicken nuggets are made from dead chickens. Do the chickens still exist when they’re dead? Do we consider if they exist, since they’re so consumable and easy to distance ourselves from, like a fun action film, which is more for enjoying than thinking about? I’m not a vegetarian or anything. I’m not some animal rights expert. But I wonder if we should understand how our food got to us. Maybe the chicken in our nuggets don’t exist to us.

You asked me, do you exist, too? Sometimes I’m not sure.