It's a pervasive thought. One that's been nagging at me since the coast cleared when the clock struck midnight, and New York disappeared anew, Mysterio with it. Weeks later and I still wake up wondering if I'm drugged. If any of this is real when there's so much to suggest it isn't. But there's no way out. No trap door to open or set to walk off. The only remnants of that day are the odd assortment of injuries: broken ribs and bruised muscles. The ache of a good, honest fight with none of the satisfaction that comes from winning.
Because I don't know if I won. I don't know that this is any more real than New York. I've had my doubts about the Island from the get-go, but now I can't stop obsessing. Questioning. The room is full of familiar voices, but I doubt any of them are able to give me the answers I need.
So I fake it. Everyone expects lawyers to lie, and I can play the hand well when it suits my purposes. I'm clinging to the edges of sanity, the anxiety of uncertainty making my skin itch worse than any holiday sweater, but my smile feels genuine enough. Doing my best not to bump into anyone -- a tall order, given the space -- I keep quiet and enjoy the meal.
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It's a pervasive thought. One that's been nagging at me since the coast cleared when the clock struck midnight, and New York disappeared anew, Mysterio with it. Weeks later and I still wake up wondering if I'm drugged. If any of this is real when there's so much to suggest it isn't. But there's no way out. No trap door to open or set to walk off. The only remnants of that day are the odd assortment of injuries: broken ribs and bruised muscles. The ache of a good, honest fight with none of the satisfaction that comes from winning.
Because I don't know if I won. I don't know that this is any more real than New York. I've had my doubts about the Island from the get-go, but now I can't stop obsessing. Questioning. The room is full of familiar voices, but I doubt any of them are able to give me the answers I need.
So I fake it. Everyone expects lawyers to lie, and I can play the hand well when it suits my purposes. I'm clinging to the edges of sanity, the anxiety of uncertainty making my skin itch worse than any holiday sweater, but my smile feels genuine enough. Doing my best not to bump into anyone -- a tall order, given the space -- I keep quiet and enjoy the meal.