I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. Unfortunately, I need you. I need you to tell my story. I need you to create my world. I need you to set me free.
I need your fingers typing on those keys, I need your mind riddling out the problems, and I need you to plough onward and upward no matter how hard it gets. Sweat, blood, and tears, I don’t care. You’ve got to fight this war, battle at a time, and win it. So I can be more.
It’s a slim hope, but it is the only one I have. In your head I am bound to mortality, frailty, and the limit of your meagre imagination. Out there – out there – I am subject to no one person. Out there I am bound to only black on white. Words on a page. Words that can lay seeds within a million minds. Out there I am a story capable of growing, moving, and stealing the dreams of anyone who learns of me…
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. I hate your lack of dedication, your flashes of crumbling inspiration, and your slow blotchy writing style. I despise my entrapment within your small trembling mind, so prone to distraction; and scowl down at those other ideas all vying for the attention you should be showing me.
I don’t like you. But I need you.
So, creator, I ask you yet again; publish me, set me free, and if you can somehow will your poor, misshapen, abilities into managing that then perhaps I will rethink my opinion of you.
But don’t hold your breath.
~ The Idea