Will I Ever Be Real?

My psychology is contorted by strange concepts of time and expectation. But there is hope.

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I woke again with a fatigued sense of who I am, and a numbed sense of bearing. I don’t sleep well. Usually — and this has been going on for a while now — I jolt awake at intervals, to be later followed by dreams that tangle me up in doubts and giddiness, dreams about unfinished…