I say delusional because I don't know what else to call it. I suppose I trap myself in my own world where, for once, I'm the one who can hurt others. I don't always, but I often do. I design my main character, who's actually a side character when it comes to storylines, after the me in the world I made. Sometimes in the story, it's just one oddly dressed person the protagonist glances and takes note of while walking through a street, or a peddler that sells him what he needs.

Sometimes, my delusions spread further. I think I see things in the shadows like the creations my other me has made, I think I hear voices from the mass that lives in my other me's veins. (To clarify, I am not Schizophrenic, just delusional) And sometimes I think that I'm them, trapped inside a human shell, and all I'd need to do is kill the shell to be free, to be me, and do all the things I could do in the world in my head. Occasionally, I've planned it, for once I get out of school. But I advert my mind then, and just return to my world, where I'm free once again.

I draw my other me everywhere. They are the reason I can draw realistic-ish humans, though they are not quite one. I say they because my other me has no gender. Since I've never been interested in anyone in such ways, I suppose my world didn't need me to have one. But even in my world, people find that strange, odd, freakish. Because even in the world that is utopia for me, people are people.