Nothing Feels Real

Ok so the inspiration for this story has Come from the Twenty Øne Piløts album 'Blurryface'
This is going to be a 12-14 part story based on what my thoughts are about Blurryface and what would happen if he where real... I have posted this on my wattpad which is @phanwhisk

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1. Woken

I start to gain my consciousness. My vision was blurred. I look around and notice I'm not in my room... For once I wanted to be at home... I never thought I'd see the day where I longed to survey the peeling whitewashed walls of my scruffy family home.

Instead, I was surrounded by rather stereotypical horror-story-like trees. Alone.

I'd only just got my full vision back when I looked down at my hands. What was that they where coated in? Then the memories started coming back. The knife, the screaming... The blood.

I never meant for any of this to happen. I wouldn't call it murder... More, erm, 'self defence'.

But what was I doing here? Why was the blood on my hands turning jet black?

I couldn't believe how I'd got here? Had someone kidnapped me? Was I hallucinating? I pinched myself just to make sure it was real... Numb.

Relief swept over me. Bloody hell thank god this was just a nightmare.

You know that feeling you get when you're in a dream and you start to wake up? When you can almost control what's happening in the dream for a while? That didn't happen. And I didn't wake up. What the hell was going on?

I decided to stop pissing around and just accept I was screwed... I walked around and noticed this was no ordinary forest. The trees where warm to the touch which was suspicious because it was so blisteringly cold. As I walked around the leaves crunched over my bare feet, every so often I'd step on a thorn which wouldn't hurt, of course... However got jammed in my foot which wasn't ideal.

I'd been walking around for what felt like hours now. Of course I had no fucking clue what bleeding time it was as my chuffing watch decided to freeze.

It got to the point where I felt like I was going to pass out from exhaustion (despite the fact I was currently asleep... I don't know either)

I took shelter underneath a conveniently placed tent that just so happened to have a CD player inside. Don't ask me how it got electricity... I didn't question it. Right now, I needed to hear 18 year old Brendon Urie's voice. I don't care what anyone says: A Fever You Can't Sweat Out by Panic! at The Disco is one of the best albums released in 2007. In fact, it's probably one of the best pop-punk albums out there. I'm getting off topic.

I didn't sleep much that night, maybe it was the constant drone of the rain against my tent... Or it's could've been the fact that my neck was hurting to such an extent that I had to craft a makeshift bandage. I probably looked like a twat but who cares.

Word count: 477

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