[ WP ] You are 100 % convinced that you are the sole surviving member of the human race , despite the fact that today is your first appointment with a shrink for the very same reason .

Figments of my imagination, it ’ s sad realizing that you are the only one left out of the 7 billion that used to inhabit the earth and all the remains are these fakes, these shells of a person that once was, yet no longer exists. Strange to look at smiling faces, playing kids, and the workers of the world all with the knowledge that they don ’ t really exist at all. 
 I giggle slightly as I watch the people struggle, all for nothing for they don ’ t even know they are doomed to this blatantly repetitive existence. Work, eat, and shit, and meander about without any intention of a life. 
 Shellies ’ I call them, fitting name that lacks any originality, but hey all they are is basically billions of ‘ Wilsons ’ mere nothings but something I can talk to from time to time to alleviate the feelings of being alone, the last of my kind, the last living human, just as Tom Hanks felt alone on his little desert island with his volleyball in ‘ Cast away ’. 
 I meander my way to the head doctor, who the Shellies ’ used to refer to as a shrink, a mental man, fixing those who are needy. I ’ m not sure why but I ’ m always having the overwhelming sense of being drawn to this place. I must go every day at 3:00 p.m. must be punctual, unsure if half for fear that if I do not I will turn into just another one of these godforsaken things, or just because talking to Dr. Martin, the head-man ’ s name, somehow just makes me feel better. I guess you could refer to him as my Wilson, although without the bloody hand print... 
 2:55, there I am standing outside of the office of Dr.Martin, smoking the Pall Mall that was stuck between my index and middle finger, down to the filter preparing myself to have my Wilson time. 
 “ So how are the thoughts today Paul? ” ask Dr. Martin, as I glumly sit across the desk from the balding, middle aged man ( middle aged for a shellie at least ). “ Oh, ya know same old same old watching these husks float around town meandering yet always lost. ” I prattle back, repeatedly rolling the word Wilson over and over on my minds tongue. “ Have you thought about the fact of your living on the streets, any thoughts of getting a job, getting back to it? ” He asks. He was always a kind Wilson never judging just listening. “ I mulled it over what you said last time about how I should reach out to family, friends, anyone I had before, I also mulled over your prospect of getting a shellie job and getting shelly money, but I just don ’ t get it. Why would I subjugate myself to that monotony, that torture? I ’ ll just become one of them if I do that, Is that what you want Doc? ” I say not wanting to come off rude only inquisitive, just wanting to know what Dr.Martin thinks of this world, this mundane flocking of soulless creatures. 
 
 Random typing at work. Cont?
