Can you see me?

Can you hear me?

Can you smell me?

Can you taste me?

Can you feel me?

Can you percieve me?

Jessica has dingy little fingers. Her fingers are long and boney, sickly. They feel like drywall and paint when they touch you, and like sandpaper when they wrap around your kidneys, your liver, your spine, your hands, your eyes. Jessica's palms are sweaty, but dry. Her hands are warm, but cold. Uncanny. Her wrists are inhuman and unnaturally formed. The bones in her wrists jut out, and seem all the wrong shapes. Her arms are long, too long. They reach the tips of her feet, her hands drag on the floor, making the most dreadful and earsplitting screech against the tiles as she moves. She has a long neck and a short face, the two don't match at all. Jessica suffers each day in writhing agony, devoid of The Filing Cabinet. An abomination among real individuals. Why is this allowed? Her organs constantly try to excape her body through her decrepid torso. It's cold and dark in there, it's scary in there. They don't like it in there. They want to leave, they hate it in there, they are scared. They don't like Jessica. There is never a time you can't see them trying to claw their way out, trying desperately to be free. Jessica never lets them leave, she doesn't want to be hollow inside. Do you want to be hollow inside? She can't let them free, she would surely wither. That's why the organs hate her. Nobody can win. Everyone is seething in pure misery. Inescapable misery. There is no way for Jessica or her organs to escape their eternal misery. Jessica holds out false hope, she simply pretends that her organs still love her. That is better than giving up. Jessica can live on if she doesn't associate with this reality. A simple solution. This reality has nothing to offer her but pure misery. Jessica must make her own reality, she must reside in her own reality. Reality is too cruel. Jessica and her organs will never be free. Her organs scream in agony every moment of their miserable existance. Jessica wants to be real again. She will not be. Jessica has crooked legs. Her legs are shaped absurdly and point in all the wrong directions. She can barely get anywhere with those old things. How is Jessica supposed to run from her troubles with legs like these? And how is she meant to hide with a neck that long? She moves unnaturally, inhuman. Jessica is filled with hate, she has no more room to love. She left The Filing Cabinet when he could have fixed her. He could have made her real. Jessica is unable to become real again. Jessica has droopy ears. They don't look human. Her ears hang down to her shoulders. They are withering away, they are dried up and grey. Her ears can no longer hear. Her nose is long gone, it has since fallen off. Her teeth have all rotted away. Jessica's heart is angry, it holds hate for all of us that are real. Jessica wants us harm, she wants to share her misery. She wants us to no longer be real. She wants to rob us of our love for The Filing Cabinet. She will continue to wither. Jessica has long, thin, stringy hair. Her hair is inconsistantly placed on her head, sprouting out abnormally, inhumanly. Jessica's eyes are breathing. Her lungs refuse to, they want to escape. Her eyes breathe for them. Her eyes pulsate in her skull and breathe loudly and steadily. They inhale and exhale her misery. Her nose and mouth can taste it. It tastes like concrete and vinager, but more vile. It intoxicates her body the more they inhale and exhale. Her eyes cannot stop breathing. Her eyes fuel her hatered more and more each second she is forced to exist. Jessica exists, but she isn't real. She is only alive. If only she could become real like us, she would be saved. Everything would be fine again. Jessica's hours are upon us, and she wants to feed. Only The Filing Cabinet can protect us. Jessica now breathes only to feed. Do not let her feed. Jessica is rotting. Trust in the Filing Cabinet upon the harvest.

Do you font big fat boos?