Still alive

Dear Mother and Father,

There was another poetry slam tonight, which was very nice because I was getting tired of being alone with the mirages. I haven't slept since leaving Steelhead (again), and the mirages started around the third day (again). But I am okay. I know not to listen to them. As much as possible will listen to myself and to real memories of those I trust (including you, of course), and never to mirages.
I was at first very confused as to whether the poetry slam was really happening, but the smooth way the people interacted seemed reasonably convincing. That is, up until near the end, when two of them (a Jaegerperson of high rank by the name of Szondi and a weasel Tinyperson with a pet weasel) confessed to nonexistence. I was a little bit disappointed, as I'd been treating them as though they were real. They seemed like delightful people, in fact.
I happened to sit next to Mr. Captain Veles again, and this time the mantle seating was by explicit invitation, though of course all these matters are of no consequence. I ought to be concerned that everyone thought it so important to get me seated properly. When I was sitting awkwardly on the floor at first, they inquired as to whether I needed medical attention for my legs. How awful that would have been!
Now that it's in mind, I shall need to do a check of my legs just to make sure they aren't damaged. I will confess that my perception of pain and injury has been noticeably distorted ever since the hysteria surgery. That hurt for I don't know how many weeks, and then nothing ever hurt quite the same way again. I thought that was a good thing, but perhaps not.
It's so very sweet that they inquire about my well-being.
It's funny, as much as I regretted causing them to worry, I also experienced a strange rush from the attention. (Forgive my self-centered vanity!) It seems almost probable that Miss Dreamscape asking about me when I tumbled out the window was less an emotion-fit of hers and more a deep-seated aspect of the local culture. I do believe I have come to love this place, not only in spite of but also because of its sheer strangeness. If you will permit it, I think it would please me to live here and marry here and study here and establish myself here when I'm old enough to be permanently on my own. Please don't be upset at my words; I'm not living by my "feelings" just yet. I do wish for your input before making any foolish commitments.
Some interesting topics were discussed tonight, though I won't presume either of you would find them to be such. I did learn that there are zombies in the Steamlands, but the only dangerous ones are in a place I've never even heard of called New Toulouse. (The Steelhead zombies, they said, are civilized. That's to be expected, as everything else there was quite civilized except for the brain-eating extradimensional alien monster that I've never even met in person.)
At the end of the evening, Mrs. Lowey thanked me for attending. (She's so nice to me!) But she really has no idea how little I've strayed from this place since last time! I "help watch the place" because I really have nowhere else to go at the moment. I wish I could help selflessly--and correctly, and well, and all those other lovely things--but I think I have psychological okayness issues to work on before that ideal is reached. I know, I know, it's not good for me to be so self-centered, but people worry when I'm not okay. Really, they do! I have experiential evidence!
I'm sorry, that's enough ranting for tonight. Do take care.
Love,
Shaqad