Broken Pencils

Are you... y'know?

April 3

Have you ever had a day where you're just... there? Like, you go about your day normally, but after the whole day is over, you don't know what you even did? Like, you just existed that day, but that's about it?

What even is there? Is this even real?

This wasn't meant to get philosophical or anything. Is that how you spell it? Philosophical? Whatever.

The past few days have felt kinda... off. Like I'm just watching myself through a screen.

Like, I was watching a boring movie at night and I fell asleep, except the movie was myself.

I do it sometimes, but it's becoming more often. I dunno if people usually feel this way or if something is going terribly wrong in my mind.

Or, I guess, since I'm technically just my brain, something is wrong with me.

~~~

Marcy was sitting alone in their room. Sighing to themself, they stood up and picked some of the broken pencils off of their floor. 

Throwing them in the trash felt relieving but also incredibly wrong.

"Those are people..." Marcy muttered to themself as they sat back down on their bed, conflicted by their act of murder(?) to the pencils now in the trashcan. "It doesn't matter, though," they continued. "They were shitty people."

"Should I be concerned?" Sasha asked, appearing in the doorway, apparently having heard all of Marcy's short one-sided conversation.

"Oh! You're back? Already?" Marcy asked, a bit flustered.

"Yeah? I just went to get some water. You knew that."

"Yeah... I did know that, I think... I- I've just been spacing out a bit."

"You alright? Wanna talk about it?"

"No, no, I'm fine, don't worry. I was just tired of the pencils... How long have you been here?"

"About twenty minutes?"

"I could've sworn... whatever. Um, do you wanna play a game or something? Like a video game or board game or whatever you want really."

"It's your house, you can decide. I'm fine with whatever."

"But... what do you want?"

"Whatever you want. Don't you have an opinion?"

"I stopped having opinions a long time ago."

"I feel like I've heard a toad say that to me before..." Sasha started. Marcy looked at her with a confused look, which was probably justified. "I dunno, that was probably a dream or something."

"I once wrote a poem about a weird dream I had. It was kinda fun, actually."

"Oh really? Can I hear it?"

"I mean, I haven't memorized it or anything, and I don't know where it is."

"That's a shame," Sasha said. "Perhaps... we could write poems about the dreams we had last night. That'd be fun, right?"

"It sounds intriguing. I don't see you as the type of person who enjoys poetry, though."

"I hate it, but I like sharing things with you, and maybe sharing my weird poetry of my weird dreams could help us, I don't know, bond?"

Marcy gasped with glee. "You want to do a weird bonding activity?" They were smiling widely, inching closer and closer to Sasha's face.

"...Y-yes?"