I know you’re reading this, man (or woman). Here’s why I am not going to lose against you, no offense.
I wasn’t a believer for a very long time. Recent events notwithstanding, my beautifully messed up genetic cocktail of part-depression, part early onset Alzheimer’s and part Asperger’s, have for a very long time protected me against beliefs that could potentially make me weak. When I was as young as sixteen, I had my first encounter with a benevolent spirit, which my parents helped me forget at the time.
Earlier this year, when you tried to scare me away with your puppet ghosts and weird clowning tricks, I refused to let go of the love of my life and we won against you. But you… I find it difficult to put you in any bracket because you’re this stubborn, fucking, hopelessly optimistic and equally coward enemy who refuses to show their face.
So here goes. Today has been exceptionally bad, for me and the people I love, and this is what I have to say to you.
You’re not going to win. I’m going to have a wonderful life, so is the love of my life. You will keep attempting your parlor tricks and might even succeed as far as sending parasites or suicidal thoughts my way, but I will always survive and I will always win because I am strong enough. There’s a reason you feel this burning need to end me; it’s because deep down you know you’re no match for me. I am stronger than you and it has always been this way for eternities and it will always be that way. The lord of the monkeys has been kind enough to spare no details, so I need to remind you if you’ve forgotten — you’re just a doorman who let his ego stop people who loved me. That’s why you have this curse, man. That’s why you won’t win. You are my servant by design. And there is no malaise in my heart for you either — whatever anger you’ve managed to strike up in me, is the fruit of your creativity.
And I pity you, whoever you are, because you’re presumably older than me, and you probably spent more time in your life worrying about creating problems for me rather than fixing your own. Or if you’re satan in person, you’re trying to buy my soul. You’ve tried to get me to steal, commit crimes as far back as when I was in college. Back then it was Saahil who loved me enough to show me that I didn’t need to steal from others to survive. You took Saahil away. I’ll admit it. That was rough. You may have smiled a little bit and felt like you won but his spirit stayed behind me long enough to ensure that I finished writing about our time. The books came out.
I know you are always on the lookout for my weak spots. I know this because every time anything that’s important to me goes public, you find a way to fuck it up. You’ve used things as simple as the awkwardness of my facial expressions, my typing apathy, and my basic politeness against me. You’ve managed to penetrate the thoughts of my loved ones enough to make them believe I was a bad guy. But guess what? They still know who I am, and they will always know, because my love is true and honest and real and was not manufactured, like your hatred. And I will never leave them no matter what you make them or me do to each other. I will never stop believing in my truth and fighting for it.
I had a fever a few minutes back. You know about it of course. So I’ve been sitting down with my gods, chatting up the place on a rainy evening and discussing why it’s okay for me to embrace this danger. It’s going to sort itself out. I dare you. I fucking challenge you. I’m not going to take medicines and I’m still going to be okay. I’m feeling better already, typing this out. Lux is feeling great, took him for a walk and the rains slowed down. My clients whom I was avoiding without reason, spoke to me, we’re working everything out. Another encounter to make me feel bad about Lux? Nope. Boo. Sorry. Didn’t work. I love him and I’m going to take care of him and he’s going to be okay with me. He has things to do, you know. Like bite off your sister’s nose again if she tries misbehaving.
I hope you get the point of this, man. Don’t fuck with me. The games are not going to work. Come over and face me, reveal yourself and your true intentions, and when you do that, be prepared with your last wishes or something, because I won’t stop to reconsider my karma. I never have had to, and I never will.
One last chance for you to stay away and live out this human life peacefully. Know, that I know. Know, that your pettiness doesn’t bother me. Know, that you’re nothing. And live your life. Or just come up to me and I’ll relieve you of your misery again.
By the way, man. Burn.