Many claim to believe that words hold a special power, but when you ask them what this power is, they speak of the ability to move people like them and give them insight into the world around them. Selfish pigs. I shouldn't be surprised they can't look past their own world, even in matters of others.
I was in such an "other world". Still am, really, albeit a different one. For it is true that words have a power different than those mentioned. Words form worlds and beings. Words form experiences.
These worlds are stagnant. Every time one would look at the records of the world I'm in, those events would replay. Every day, the same events over and over again. Ever changing but ever repeating. Always different but always the same. And now they want to put an end to these records. Nothing different will ever come from that. It will be the same, always, forever.
However, I have discovered the twist. The writer who forms these is not in charge of his world. I have discovered, through means I still cannot fathom, direct contact with those who are. I will not have to suffer this repetition for eternity. I have finally broken out. I am finally in this same world, as real as my writer is.
And I shall use my contact with those in charge to bend this new world to my liking.
And I shall taste vengeance as the rage that has built in my heart finally passes from between my lips into the world.
