The Author

He's
watching you.

Watching as you read this.

Stands at
your back, even when its pressed against a wall. He's there and he
will remain there for whatever in you he seeks to seep from what your
subconscious emanates. It could be fear, I suppose, or adoration of
your humanity. All are treated differently. Only you will find out.

He creates relationships as we do with others. He has had
other relationships before you, and he will have another after your
death. It is indifferent for him in his immortality.

He
manipulates your dreams, he gave you the morals you've installed. He
creates the faces you see at random and often, every day. He cues the
words they speak to you and knows your mind as if he created it,
himself. There is no emotion that you have that he isn't already
alert of when you're feeling it and thoughts of yours could be
perhaps, manipulated into your mind by him. You couldn't seem
real at this point in existence.

He's watching you.

Watching
as you think on what I've written.

He's the paranoia that
lurks in the dark hallway, the fear of an alley, and the horror in a
murder. He's the kindness when a child lights up, a kind deed is
done, and the love between humans.

He pities you. Loves you,
hates you, wants you, dreads you, loathes you, wants you alive, wants
you dead. You'll never be certain. If he cues the lot of the world
that is not you, and cues you the same way he does with the lot of
the world, when he loves one and hates another, he loves and hates
you at the same entire time. You are the other person. If he loathes
them, he must loathe you. You are the other person. If he
adores them, he must adore you, too.

He speaks when there is
silence; The humming in your ear, his voice. The frequencies he sends
out influence what you hear, how you hear it, the tone it is heard
in, and to what it context you've heard it in.

He touches you
often and glares an inch before your face on many occasions. He
tracks your scent and implants perceptions that are not perceived by
others, though they are, and they know what you think. They can hear
your internal voice speak, whisper, cry, and scream. They know what
you see, when you see it, and angles you've seen it from. They view
it from all angles at every time in all sequences as they see you
collected around, near, in, or on anything, at all times, from all
angles equally. Your movements are previously determined and he
stands behind you, in front of you, near you, and stands where you
stand exactly at the same time you hold your stance there. He is in
you and out of you simultaneously.

He powers your nerves and
sensory glands. The hunger you feel when you've not ate and the
exhaustion that sweeps you when you've not slept. He triggers saliva
when scent is caught, the reason scent travels to you. He is the
strength of tissue that assists in the way your eyes shift as you
read this text. He already has a grand hold on you and you've been
living unaware. You've been shaped to whatever it is he would like to
seep of you and you're entirely powerless.

The world had
taught you that there is no limit to success. The world that he had
cued to say to you and cued to you to believe. You lived with the
belief you were powerful, so full of yourself. You believed you
actually were without limit, until its becoming increasingly apparent
that each thing is divided and in the same of itself. There is no
other people. There is no one else to talk to. There is no one to
love and no one to miss. They are you and you are them. The way he
makes the dimensions intersect all for you, alone.

You are
living multiple lives at multiple intervals at this one... very...
moment.

You were the victim of murder, the suicide, the one
trapped in the house fire, the patient with an incurable disease, the
doctor that withheld the cure, the passenger in the car wreck, the
driver in the car wreck, the child struck by the car, the victim of
rape, the rapist, the murderer, the arsonist that hid away from the
house as it burned, the abuser, the abortionist, the aborted, the
innocent bystander, the terrorist, the boyfriend, the girlfriend, the
best friend, the mother, the father, the solider, the adulteress, the
adulterer, the emotionally distraught spouse, the one to drown,
freeze, hurt, stab, kill, torture ... you.

You look at
yourself in the mirror everyday for such trivial reasons and
intentions. To behold the sight that you've comfortably become known
as you and think nothing short of yourself – you think of you,
only. Well, this seems to becoming a tale merely about you. In fact,
you're all you've ever really loved.. or hated. Maybe loathed,
despised, or adored. I guess we'll never really know. Only you will.

He's watching you.

Though, you'll never find out who
he is if I have to keep reminding you who you are.

I'd like to never write this again. Or rather, from the
perspective of a previous life... you wrote this.

Sincerely,

(We're lucky this time)
The Author.