dismissable as paranoia, I suppose....?

Things don't seem "normal."

I don't recognize something I've written as truly being my own.  Everything appears to be some sort of elaborate illusion-- it is all a very close fascimile, but there is some loss in the details.  I can't pinpoint what, exactly, but it's not quite right.

Religion.  Gangs.  History.  Everything I know about people, about science, about anything-- are those real things?  Did that really happen?  Was I really there?

Consequences don't register.  I kicked a hole in the wall the other day, and still am convinced it didn't happen.  The scars on my arm seem like they were placed there, like they are just makeup applied in my sleep.

The monsters in my apartment at night.  I tell myself not to get worked up.  I tell myself it's just the creepypasta stories getting my imagination all revved up.  It's not real; none of it is real.

...am I so sure of that?  How do I tell the difference anymore?  Why have I had these abstract fears of the "other" for so long?  Why does everyone experience that creepiness from time to time?

My whole life, every action, it's all surreal, as though I am merely watching it play out.  I am only an observer here, and everything happens on its own-- if it happens at all.  Am I to believe what my senses are telling me?

And why should I?

I can't seem to accept any evidence with even the slightest bit of certainty.  I remain convinced it is all a lie.

I can't tell if it was constructed by an outside source, or if the whole world around me only exists within the confines of my mind.

I can't quite express this feeling in words; I don't think it's even possible.  Sometimes I'm not sure why I am trying, since there's no use in explaining myself to all the figments of my imagination.

Did I construct all of this?  Did someone else?