Speaking to me isn't a random event, is a privilege, a blessing. Something to be adored, and something that flourish because I made it so.
You're turtles judging a giraffe, from a perspective I could never descend to.
You feel the need for others to understand you, approve you.
You feel the need to socialize with each other.
You feel the need to mention your lives to each other.
You feel the need to mention your pain, opinions, suffering, ideology, tastes to each other.
You mistakenly assume that I am interacting with you, or posting on this forum. Because I acknowledge your existences and react to them accordingly.
But that reasoning is flawed, for that I never see anyone as a human being. Their words and delusions are points of reference I can use to elevate a bleak, simple, screen.
Into art.
Does that imply that I attempt to enforce my superiority over you? Of course not.
For me whether you agree with me, or disagree with me. Are equally meaningless, worthless, and irrelevant to my purpose.
I speak to you. I type about you, but is it truly about you? I disagree.
Your grief is a point of reference, your defense mechanisms are lullabies, my comebacks towards you are art.
Responding to your texts, doesn't equal to acknowledging your existence. And that's something that you fail to understand.
This screen is something you're involved in, something you react to, something you're imprisoned from. Something you consider worth responding to.
But does it use you, or do you use it?
That's our difference, a fundamental critical difference that separates us.
You're just colors in my canvas, which just happens to be a screen instead of a dinner table, or a piece of paper.
Your value is provided by me and it's stripped by me whenever I desire to accordingly.
- Harsh Reality
