Do you know who I am? Because I sure don’t. At least I don’t know who I am here, in this world.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have amnesia. I recall fully well who I was before I got here. And I remember how I got here, passing through a crack in my bedroom wall. It wasn’t a very big crack, certainly not one large enough for my body to fit through. And yet here I am, in your world, and I don’t know who I am here.
In my world I was a writer, boldly scribbling down stories for my readers. I wrote creative fiction but nothing I wrote compared to the reality in which I find myself now. I never could have imagined crack in my wall that provided passage to a whole new world.
I’m here now, and the crack has sealed itself. I don’t know how to get back. So my identity before is meaningless now, in this moment.
Who am I? Can you tell me please?