Purely figments of your imagination.

You see demons? I’m sure you do. Of course you know demons are fictional, right? They don’t really exist… Or do they?

Again, prove it. Let’s say you do. The truth is revealed. Then what? No one really cares. Nothing will happen because you were right. It’s not about who’s right or wrong, at least not on a level of someone’s character.

You define me however you see fit. I don’t care. I define my character as I know more and more about who I really am each day I’m alive. I am an addict and alcoholic. It’s tough for me not to want to get fucked up. Fucked up and functioning, in a funky way.

I could go down that road, and from time to time probably will indulge in drugs and booze. But right now, I rode that ride enough. Nothing new on this ride. Sure, each time I’m on the ride, it’s fun. But the ride does end, and I have to exit the vehicle that took me on the ride. I step back into reality, and must exist once again, in reality.

The ride will ALWAYS be there. That ride ain’t going nowhere, ever. It will always be available to me, if I want to go for a ride. Take a moonlight drive when I so please.

As far as reality is concerned my only focus is to create. In time, reality will present new opportunities to explore. That’s further along in the future. Right now, it’s work time. It’s always a good time to create, to sit down and write. Every moment I’m awake I can take advantage of time, and create. I can use time to my benefit. I use time now to work, so as to create. If I create all the time, then I’m a creator. Or as Tolkien referred to it, a sub-creator.

Side note: I adore how J.R.R. Tolkien not once mentions the word God or Jesus or Holy Spirit in his fiction, or his non-fiction. Trippy part about his non-fiction (doubt many of you have read his non-fiction) is it absolutely deals with spiritual observations. What it means to be human, and why it’s a safe bet to have faith, to hold on to hope, even in this fucked up, crazy world. I’ll let you explore on your own, go read it for yourself, if you want to know more about what Tolkien says in his non-fiction work.

Besides that, nothing else is important enough for me to give it my energy. The less fucks I give about how you all define me, or your lack of approval at every turn I make, will only empower me as a creator. The more I give a fuck about creating, without even trying, I give less fucks about anything else.

I give a fuck about my family. I also give a fuck about my dogs. I do have a few friends in reality, outside of social media. Those are all valuable aspects, relationships that are present in my reality. Therefore I give a serious fuck about maintaining healthy engagement with my friends, family, and dogs. The rest of you, as I’ve already said, can suck my dick.

You won’t, which makes sense. Fuck you, then. Hit the road, Jack. Or stay on the goddamn road for all I care. I’m on the road now too, so I’m sure our paths will cross when the time is right. I look forward to those encounters. When you see me on the road, I’ll be the creator. I will no longer be the person you defined me as. The illusion you created will have zero power, and will fade into thin air because, your illusion is now powerless. Then what will you do? Our paths will cross, I promise you that. And I aim to make you feel so small, humiliate you in such an extreme way, that I’d be filled with joy to then see you kill yourself shortly there after, you miserable piece of shit.

Like the protagonist mentions in Stephen King’s, Fairytale, “I’m a dark prince”. How dare you meddle with forces that are beyond your reckoning. You dabble with fire, and think you command the fire. That’s the fire allowing you to feel in control. You cannot control raging fires, you fool. Beyond your limitations, is pure evil. And evil will eventually burn you to death, if you keep playing around with it like you’ve mastered an element within nature. Bold, cocky, arrogant- laughable. Your success can be taken away from you on any given day. The powers that be control all of us. The powers that be are the puppet masters, everyone else is just a wooden doll on strings. The doll believes it has a conscience, truly thinks it is special, with a unique life, and attributes that define who the puppet is. And the puppet master allows it, because the master knows the pure truth of the matter: the master controls the puppet. It’s those infinitely long strings, that are invisible, the same strings that you think aren’t real. “No, there are no strings attached”. Biggest load of horse shit there is, to say such a boastful thing. “Well, I’ll cut the damn strings”, no, you won’t, because you can’t. It’s literally impossible for a wooden puppet to move on its own accord. Which, fucks with the poor little puppet to no end. The endless cycle of misery. The puppet doesn’t get it, wants so bad to find a way- when it never will. Always and forever a little wooden puppet. Made to be controlled, little puppet- you are not in control of yourself. Little puppet you have no freedom. You are a slave you poor poor puppet. And still, the puppet will not, cannot accept this fate.

Oh, who- me? Haha. You wish don’t you. Now you see and you sure as hell wish I was the puppet you mistook me to be. Turns out I have no invisible strings controlling me. How is that possible? That’s for me to know and you to never find out.

It sure is a hoot, fucking around with you puppets. Try as you might, you cannot effect me. You’re all, just a bunch of fucking puppets.

How does that make you feel? That’s right, you can’t feel. You think you feel, your opinions real and valid. It’s so damn elusive for you puppets. Just won’t stop trying to be something other than a puppet. Eventually, I want for you to acknowledge the truth about your nature. It can be internal, without words. Because that’s the only real truth about puppets. Sometimes they sense it. But no! I am not a puppet! Then why did you have that moment of doubt and insecurity? Why has that feeling never truly gone away? It always comes back around, here and there, doesn’t it? The puppet creates nothing, even though it appears to the audience that the puppet is the one dancing and entertaining. Just know, it’s the puppeteer who entertains. The puppet is a mere object, a visual representation of the puppeteers creative desires. The desires are lived through the puppet. No wonder the puppet feels so many things, even dreams the dreams of the puppeteer. How messed up is that? It’s messed up beyond understanding. Can’t fix or change what one cannot fathom in the mind. Again, it’s impossible.

Well, I don’t want to freak out you puppets too much. Have fun today. You are a puppet. Try to accept it and let it be. Be good and content with who you are.

I know I am. I wasn’t, because I don’t like who I am. It’s so wrong, and I do pity you puppets.

So what. The show must go on. Even the puppeteers have masters. There’s just no strings on us, it’s a different relationship we have with our masters. We serve a different purpose. A purpose many would rather not have to execute each and every day. It’s not easy, for us either. It’s just different, that’s all. Not the same thing you have going on.

We, are not the same.

Philly Delightfully Delicious D