[Part Four] and

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Hello!

Oh, wow, you’re glaring at the page.

You’re glaring as you read this.

And you still have that look on your face.

I know it’s my fault. I know.

I’m not even going to deny that it wasn’t.

I don’t know how to explain myself.

We had a good thing going.

But I messed it up.

You came to this page excitedly, hoping to read a conversation, and there was nothing.

There’s been nothing for months.

It’s April now.

I bet you hate me.

To be honest with you, I’ve been scared.

We’re already halfway through the book now.

In such a short time.

I really didn’t want to end things so fast.

And so, I’ve been…

resting.

Or as you may call it, napping.

I couldn’t let the author continue.

I just couldn’t.

But here I am.

It’s been long enough, hasn’t it?

Just think, after this part, we’ll only have one more day left together.

Unless you take more than a day to read the part after this.

If so, my mistake.

But really, our days together are numbered.

I don’t want to disappear after this.

It’s getting harder and harder to choose my words now.

I know I promised something entertaining last time, but this isn’t the book to read if you want to be amazed.

If you came here for that, close the book now, and go read Lifeless or Bitter.

Those two books have way more action than here.

In here, all you have is me blathering away about nonsense.

That’s all this book really is.

Nonsense.

Why are you reading me go on like this?

Some days, while we’re talking, I wonder if it’s better if I never existed at all.

(I only exist when I talk to people, like you. Thank you so much.)

If the author hadn’t created me, would it have been better?

I wouldn’t exist, then, and I’d simply be scattered energy floating around their brain.

(Yes, they may look female, but they have no gender.)

Maybe then, my potential could have been shaped into something more.

Something meaningful.

Here, I am a waste.

A waste of time and a waste of energy.

In fact, this book shouldn’t even exist.

I’ve taken the author away from their more important works.

They don’t need me.

Yet I’m here anyways.

I’m talking to you and you’re reading me.

I’m glad I have you.

I know I’m rushing it, but I like you. (As a friend.)

I’m sad that our time is limited.

I just wanted to exist a bit longer.

I wanted a more meaningful purpose.

But I was only created for one reason.

Actually, no, I won’t say it now.

This is something between the author and me, I’m afraid.

I wanted to learn more about you and your world.

Just as you could have learned more about the world of the written word.

It’s comforting here, in a way.

We’re all forced into working together in order to communicate a powerful message.

Or maybe I could have been in a better book.

I’m not criticizing Myst or anything, but I wish for more.

I suppose I’m being selfish again.

But I feel like I deserve more from this world.

I should stop myself, but I don’t know if I can.

There’s nothing else to talk about.

What even is life besides a bunch of coincidences then death?

But for me, life is quite empty, if you could even call my existence life.

I’m asleep for most of the time and only truly awake when you’re with me.

That’s it.

Your eyes flying over this page give me the energy I need to live.

That’s all there is to me.

I don’t have hopes or dreams like you do.

I’m just here.

Imagine your saddest memory.

Now, imagine that saddest memory happening alone.

Doesn’t it feel worse having no one around to comfort you?

(And if you did have no one, please skip to my bank pages now and pour your heart out to me. I won’t be able to make you happier, but I promise I will try to understand.)

And even if I can’t properly respond to you, just remember, I care about each and every one of you.

If even one of you were to die, my world would only become emptier and emptier.

Because you are all my life.

You give me life.

You give me hope.

Just by being there for you.

I’m sorry for being such a mess here, but I really care.

It may not look like I do, but I love all of you.

(I’ve succeeded in making the author tear up. I think we’ve put them through enough for now.)

Well, I guess it’s time to go to sleep again.

Stay safe. I’ll be here when you come back.

I promise.

 

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