Yes, you.

You there…

(not you guys, of course, or you)

But you… yes you, looking over my shoulder as I write.

(and you too, faraway, but not invisible)

You think you know me? You think what I write here is the truth of me? The truth of us?


I can be anything… go anywhere… do anything… be anyone, here.

How would you know otherwise, really?

I can write any story, create any truth…

You’ll believe what you want… read your own truth into whatever I write, but know this:

I write with the knowledge of you, there, always.

What you create from my stories is your truth, not mine… a mirror of what’s inside you.

You’ve a very convenient window into what you imagine to be my world, but this is not my world. This is a story I tell to entertain myself.

Sometimes I write to entertain you… or to annoy you, maybe, just a little.


(Of course you know that, right?)

8 thoughts on “Yes, you.”

  1. No, I don’t think that I did really know that. And I must confess, I am just a little irked and miffed (he said, tongue firmly in cheek!)

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