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Last night, I was staring at people, but only one that I knew.
I felt like I was drifting in and out my dreams, and in and out of rooms.
Seems I was carefully writing down their life stories. The one person I knew stopped and gave me a curt look.
I thought I was reciting some of it in my head, but I must have been talking out loud, instead.
I backed out of the door, my feelings slightly hurt. Then someone came and said in my head, “You’ve done this before. Don’t do it anymore.
Then he took my book and pen and said again,you do this all the time. You’ve written it all down. You know they’re all dead.