What do you think of this writing?

For many days thus feeling has come over me, I do not feel as if I am me. I feel a if I am spectating on my own life, I look in the mirror without a care, its barely me, that sits in there. It is me though, I cannot grasp, this simple fact, beyond the gl. I look, I stare, again and again, but no connection comes from them. I am just viewing what my eyes are seeing, 3rd person in my own head, a distant sense, but not one of distorted depth, but that of a barrier of unknown thickness between myself and it. I am here but I am not, I am only viewing what I myself, or whoever, is doing. I look around and feel astray, it’s all so close, but yet so far away. My surroundings are so familiar but so benign, I am just a stranger in my own mind. Part of me knows what’s around me, the other is lost in a daze, what is all this, everything is in a haze. All I hear are muffled sounds, as if a pillow covered a speaker, the sound, always drowned. I drink, not because I am thirsty, but because something tells me to, I do not taste it, but am only told how it is. An artificial sense of what is actually there, I am trapped inside of myself, but before I get out, why am I in here? Can I be let out? When did this cage come down over me, I feel as if I am controlling a surrogate from afar with all sensations dulling more by each mile from which they came. How did this happen? When did I become embodied in myself? Why am I specating my life away? How am I supposed to react to what’s going on in me, I do not know, why? If I knew how to react maybe it would help, but until then I am in the middle of nowhere lost, no surprise. Who is the real me, is it this person I live in, or is it me who is talking now? Double-processing every movement, you are uncomfortable, I’m moving you’re leg, my leg is moving, like two separate minds. Why is this happening? It all seems very odd to me, I do not know, the more I think about it the more apparent it becomes. I do not understand it but I follow, there is no other choice. In my own body I have one, but I don’t; a voice, because the one I keep reacting to, to me, is an unknown device.