sixwordstories | (no subject)

I suppose I could, if there was a piano somewhere nearby.

How do you know, though? You might think you are, sure, but what if reality isn't what it seems?

[Phillip quickly realizes the other man isn't calling his piano playing into question but instead talking about a far more metaphysical abstract.]

I've found that reality is a bit too real.

It can seem that way. But reality weren't real? You would never know. It'd be impossible to tell, unless someone pointed it out.

I wish it wasn't real.

[He has his regrets.]

Sometimes it all still seems like a dream.

Boy, do I understand that...I wish my reality wasn't reality too.

How do you know it is? Perhaps none of this is.

[Slightest hint of a smile.]

That could be.

Anything's a possibility.

No, I can't. But if I stop believing I am, what makes living worthwhile?

That said, my best friend's been known to question being a lot more than I have, and I don't blame him. I should be dead; he's never been alive.