Hello ________,

Surely by now you've heard of me and my work, so I'll push that aside and get right to the point: I'm not real.

Maybe that sounds strange, but it's true. I'm not real. I'm not a figment of your imagination, or something like least, I don't think I am. If I'm being perfectly honest, I'm not sure exactly what I am. I know what I'm not though, I'm not real. But I've seen the way you look at me at the metro, at the cafe, everywhere really, and it's clear that you're curious. I'm curious too, but about you. You see, as far as I can tell, you're not real either.

I'm aware that this is best taken with a grain of salt, as my comprehension is not what it (didn't) used to (never) be. But, surely, you can't be real. Of course, I should be the leading expert on such matters, supposedly, but I'm willing to admit that assuming you are neither real would mean you're the leading expert as well. However, you don't seem to be aware of that, and alarmingly nobody else seems to be aware of that either.

It troubles me to assume I'm a figment of your imagination when It's innately possible that it's the other way around and I am real and just insane. I suppose you could also just safely assume the same thing but I'd hope the notion would cause you just as much distress as it does to me, since everyone around us seem to think we're real except for me. But I'm not crazy. It isn't that nobody is real, it's very clearly, obviously, that you aren't real and that I'm not real either. That sounds absurd, of course it does, but the alternative is equally absurd if not more so.

I have seen the way--not only the way you look at other people, but the way--people look at you. With each glare they seem to second guess themselves, taking second glances or focusing harder than I would deem normal. And, surely you'd agree, nothing you say ever makes any sense whatsoever; the prose that spills out of your mouth sounds like somebody translated the intended sentence tenfold into other languages before looping backwards into English again. People don't take you seriously and that's because you're only partially cognizant of your unfortunate plight, so I, another one like you, have decided to explain it in thorough detail.

That is: I decided to explain it in thorough detail, but in practice I find I can't find the words to describe it. I hope it will suffice to say that you aren't real, that I'm not real, and that everybody including you doesn't know that. I suppose the next course of action would be for us to meet each other, and to continue not to exist as we try to elaborate on the information I've gathered here. I won't be standing at the corner Alumni St. and Saint's Avenue on Sunday morning within the hours of 3-6 am because I do not exist, and advise you do not come expecting me because neither do you.

With all due respects,