It’s as if one stopped occupying space. One remains perceived only by the self. One’s existence contained in one’s mind. One goes through the day’s routine as one would in normalcy only to be reminded so suddenly sometime through the day of what one has become.
In one’s world, one exists. One recognizes that one’s world isn’t always the same as the worlds of the rest. These worlds are shared, overlapping in time. Time is shared and also the scenes. But to be perceived and to perceive remain in one’s mind.
To be not perceived make one question if one’s perception of the self is a pretense or a lie. A lie of one to oneself or the lie of the other ones to their own selves. A lie or not? Oneself or other ones? Perhaps why is what matters.
And so in thelimbo of unsureness, all the ones remain.