(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?)