One morning I woke up and thought I was a mushroom.
Not metaphorically.
Full identity shift.

I stood in the kitchen.
My friend said, “You okay?”
I whispered,
“Sunlight is murder. Let me rot in peace.”

He blinked.
I licked the wall.
He called a therapist.

Therapist asked, “Why do you think you’re a mushroom?”
I said, “I feed off decay. People take from me. No one waters me. And sometimes I’m delicious but misunderstood.”

Silence.

She whispered, “…same.”

We cried.
Now we run a support group.
F.U.N.G.I.: Finally Understanding Nobody Gets It.

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