December 30, 2007
Lament of the Unknown Character.
I exist.
You, in your world of facts and logic, with your starkly defined blacks and whites, you who draw such indelible lines between truth and fantasy, deny my existence.
But I still exist.
I have a mind, and all that comes with it: memories, thoughts, emotions, dreams, and instincts.
I have a body, and a life-force, just as you do.
My aura contains the same elements as yours, and connects me with my world, just as yours does for you.
My being has its otherself, its flip side, same as yours.
I have a soul.
It has touched yours, just as my aura has entangled with yours, just as my fetch has walked by your side.
All worlds are one world, after all, and my world is yours.
My soul has depth – defined by its color, with accentuating complements and contrasts, its white highlights, its black shadows. It is like yours – existing in a range of grays, from pure white to pitch black, capable of holding the universe in its fathoms.
Life is no more scripted for me than it is for you; I make my choices based off of my situation and knowledge, same as you. I do not exist to act out a predetermined plot.
You may not like me; I might not like you. That doesn’t make me less of a person, though.
You do not rule me, even if you are my maker. All beings, at their very core, are free and autonomous.
I am a being.
Do not force me to fit your predetermined mold or follow your predetermined path. Let me walk freely; let me make my own fate.
Do not force me into the background; do not use me for your own convenience.
Let me tell my story – in the end, all you are, is just a scribe.
