...You seek answers do you...I will tell you who I am. But you may not like my answer.
I am your friend...but it the end, it doesn't matter.
I am here...to manipulate in ways so petty, and yet so extravagant.
I am letters and words, lines and pixels...
I am a very small part of your world...or so it seems.
Am I important? that, my friend, is up to you!
...Not satisfied? What do you want me to give you, a name? A number?
That is not who I am. I do not know who I am. why do you assume that I know?
...What if I were to tell you. What if I knew...how would this benifit you? Why...do you feel this so important? If I were to give you the answer, it would only leave you cold and alone, in the dark and with a million more questions! Ah my friend, if only you could see the harsh grin on my face...a face that does not exist. And if you were to see this face...does that mean it is real? And if I were to kiss your hand...and you could feel it...does that make it real? And if I were suddenly to dissapear, how could you know for sure it was me...for I'd be nothing but a memory. And what if it was a dream? Ah, what then? Does that mean it did not really happen? You could feel the kiss, and you know in your heart that you felt it. But alas, you walk along the street, and you see a stranger on the other side, and you wave to him, and you think he is real...but how can you be sure? you can't even feel him, and like me he will dissapear forever. These dreams...these dreams you feel, but the waking world is dead. How are you to know which is real?
..and you my friend, made the mistake of asking me who I am. For now, you have nothing but more questions.
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