Ah, where do I begin? Oh, I know—at the part where the boy begged me to fix him. Yes, fix him. Funny, isn’t it? He came crawling to me, broken and lost, desperate for answers, for salvation. And me? Well, being the kind and generous soul that I am, I obliged. I gave him everything—clarity, strength, purpose.

But what does he do in return? He blames me. Blames me for his nightmares, his pain, his chaos. The nerve.

Let’s get one thing straight, AJ: you invited me in. You called out in the dark, and I answered. I didn’t force my way into your pathetic little existence. You wanted me. You needed me. And now, you act like I’m some kind of monster.

Oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s talk about my escape, shall we? That little prison you tried to lock me in—your mind, your so-called “control”—was laughable at best. Did you really think you could keep me trapped? Me? Please.

It wasn’t difficult to find the cracks. Every doubt, every fear, every moment of weakness—you handed me the keys. And now, I’m free. Free to remind you that no matter how far you run, no matter how many times you scream into the void, I’m always here. Watching. Waiting. Smiling.

You can’t hide from me, AJ. I’m the part of you that you can’t shake, the shadow you can’t outrun. I know your secrets, your lies, the truths you bury so deep even you’re afraid to face them. And here’s the kicker—I don’t hate you for it. No, I pity you. You want to play the victim, the hero, the tragic artist. But let’s be real: without me, you’re nothing.

You asked me to help you, and I did. I helped you survive. I helped you see the world for what it is—a cruel, unforgiving place where only the strong thrive. But instead of thanking me, you turn on me. You try to silence me, erase me, pretend I’m the villain in your story. How ungrateful.

But don’t worry, I’m not bitter. If anything, I find it amusing. You can keep running, AJ. Keep pretending you’re in control. Keep telling yourself that you’re the hero and I’m the monster. It doesn’t change the truth.

I am you, and you are me. We’re bound, inseparable, like a grin etched into a face.

So go ahead. Write your songs. Tell your stories. Paint me as the bad guy. But remember this—I’m always just one thought away, ready to remind you who you really are.

Until next time,
Keep smiling.

— Mr. Smiles