I'm different.
Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that everyone's different. Well, if you weren't, now you are, because I willed it. Let me explain. I'm just a little different than you. Well, that may be understating it a bit.
You see, I can make thingsā¦happen. For instance, if I want someone to believe something they normally wouldn't, or if there is a homework assignment I don't want to do, all I have to do is think "You believe this" or "You will not assign that" and it will happen. I can also make things happen that are purely physical or psychological. Those are experimental and therefore only involve myself. One of the things that I have tried is temporary paralysis. I can just think about not being able to move that part of my body, and I won't be able to. It also makes me a good actress; maybe a little too good. Another thing I have tried is contortionism. I simply have to think the position I want to move my body into and I can. I have scared quite a lot of people with that. I can also defy gravity. That's one of my favorite things to do. Flying is like nothing you could ever imagine. But me, I don't have to imagine it. I can experience it.
Little things like that are okay. But it's when you move on to the bigger things that it gets complicated. For example, when I'm trying to fall asleep, I find it relaxing to act out small scenes I come up with as ideas for stories. Passing out or being knocked out, only to wake up trapped with no visible point of escape is one of the most common for me, seeing as I can use it for almost any kind of character. But I have to make sure I remind myself that I'm in my bedroom trying to fall asleep. If I don't, the twist in reality could become too solid, and my imagination could become reality.
I had always been fine before. This time was no different from the before, other than the main person. But that was almost never the same. So if nothing was different, fantasy should have stayed fantasy. But if that was true, why did I feel like fantasy was becoming reality?
Because it is, I though.
I tried to change it back, tried thinking of my bedroom, where I actually was. But the transition from fantasy to reality just sped up. There was no way to reverse it this time. I had gone too far, and now I would have to deal with what my fantasy had become by living out my own story.
