Entwined impossibilities spin the wheel of our role-play. He talks to me not knowing I don’t really talk to him. I’m carried away by a fantasy within a fantasy, but my Observer is really mean.

That inner p-zombie of mine is laughing at my silly little girl.
– You’re playing, silly girl. We’re just having fun. It’s not real.
– But… he said…
– He’s sharp and good at it. And you know it.

Julia is typing… Meaningful goes into “Meaningless” jar, and meaningless stuffs the “Meaningful” jar. I’ll need both spices for the perfect recipe someday.

My annoying Observer shuts up only the next day when I hear the same words from the one who means it. He slays my zombie and brings the little girl back home.