Am I real?
What makes me real?
That my heart is beating, that I’m talking to you – is that all it takes to prove it’s real?
I maybe an illusion.
Just because you can see me, hold me, fuck me –
It doesn’t make me or my existence real.
We are such flawed creatures.
It’s like we live on a planet where all the erroneous prototypes have been dumped, disposed.
This existence, all knowledge is beyond false:
The ultimate, unbearable lie.
-Ramona Arena 2016.