i feel that life is just a very long sweet dream, like having a coma for a long time, feels something, but it’s just not feel real. like anytime i would wake up and found out that there’s a real life out there. my real life.
it’s not a metaphor or something, and not on a purpose to exagerrated something, but i do sometimes feeling that way.
like the end of supernova written by dee lestari, when it’s turns out that the whole story is just a part of the thought of someone.
and that’s freakin’ me out so much on a really weird way.
but that’s just a thought. i mean, i’m living a real life right now, right?