“I am a psychotic man.Sick, anxious and delirious about everything.The only thing I hate more than my lunatic self, is isolation. Therefore, I’ve made it my ambition to always be in company. I try, as much as I can, to have others be like me; scared, uncertain and mostly afraid. I’ve lived a long and boring life. I’ve been to the toddlers, whispering of something in the shadows. I’ve rubbed shoulders with adolescents. With their raging hormones, child-adult dichotomy, general moodiness and irritability, there’s need not shout to these ones. They are my least favourite people. These minions question everything! And consequently can easily see right through me. But am relentless. Like a poor farmer, I insist on planting seeds in their heads. Then wait. Patiently. Before they know it, they are pesky stubborn adults willing to take the world by storm. And then, like an expectant groom, I woo them. Gently at first. With subtle calls here, and romantic poems(in their minds)there. I whisper that its too late for them to be anything. I tell them they should have started earlier. I encourage the idea that going with the flow is the most sensible thing now. Courting them with stories of everyone who tried to be different and failed.Some bring up Abraham Lincoln,and am like “Psshhh!!that guy? That guy wasn’t even human. Have you watched the movie? He was a vampire!” No one fails, starts over and then makes it.
If this doesn’t suffice, I bring to their malleable minds all their friends who have tried and failed. Better still, I haunt them with the failures of their parents. And insist that an apple rarely falls so far from the tree. “YOU are your parents’ child, and they failed, you will fail too.” For most, this kind of courting is adequate and soon enough, they run, scared out of their heads and propose to me. And i,more than willingly, marry them!*evil grin*
See, the thing about me is, I am excellent at inducing paralysis. In another life, i would have been a doctor and paralysis would have easily been my major. I get people in their sleep, catch them in their thoughts and like a lazy smoke,pass into their nostrils and infiltrate their minds. I tell them what they want to hear,truths, half-truths and lies all in unequal measure. Preferring lies to truth frequently.My favorite lines include;
“It has never been done,who are you too do it?”
“Yes it has been done,but not by someone like you.”
“Look at yourself,you will never be pretty/man enough to do thaaat.”
But my absolute favorite is this, “There is still time, you can do it another day.”
I feed these “truths” to people like M and M’s. And many feed on them like oxygen; raw and unfiltered. Crazy humans stopped thinking for themselves and will take up anything dropped into their minds by anyone, or anything. The truth is. haha. Yes,the truth, I get bored with all of them as soon as my psychotic hunger is satiated. Eventually leaving them to their hollow regret, salty tears and untapped potential. I don’t have a skin or heart like the humans, so I can not feeel their pain like they do. But I see it. I see it in the eyes of old artists with unsung songs and creativity bottled up in their hearts. I hear it in the shaky voices of the old who were too scared to love, i feel it in the empty sighs of a dying parent who was afraid of doing it right.I hear it over and over and oooover in the silent thoughts of those who gave up too soon.Like a twisted horror lullaby, I hear the music of their pain. The songs are all the same, morose and sad. Some smarter ones wish they hadn’t listened to me, the cowards blame everyone else for their ‘misfortune at life’. In the end, the world is one song less, one story less,one something less. Why? All because they met and chose to stick with me. My name is Fear, by the way. Have we met before?”