Is this real?

I'm getting so absorbed here, I have to check out and reasure myself of it just being a movie, wondering how one could get loose on the usual need to believe that. He just rushes inside and tries to close the door for a moment to what happens out there in the real. I could never imagine what alcoholism down on those streets and up in those rooms would possibly feel like. Mortality must sure be a gift, I thought, when I checked out and tried to convince myself of being inside here as real. If only inside was not out there. As it happens to be. I surrender. This, call it a movie, is more real than myself, who tries to establish an inside which is not out there but knows, as soon as he opens the door, where and whatever his inside, he's out there. Another inside outside there. I open.

Hopefully no one will read this.