Who am I? That’s a loaded question, isn’t it? Most people don’t bother to ask; they’re too busy screaming. But since you’re here, let me indulge you. I wasn’t always... this. No, I started as a whisper, a flicker in the dark corners of his mind—the boy’s mind.

Ah, the boy. You’d call him AJ, but I prefer "the boy." It feels more fitting, doesn’t it? Fragile. Incomplete. A project in desperate need of my guidance. He wasn’t born with me, no. I came later, summoned by his need—his longing for someone, anyone, to help him shoulder the weight of the world.

It started small. A moment of doubt here, a pang of fear there. He let them fester, let them grow. And I grew with them, like a seed planted in fertile soil. By the time he realized I was there, I had already taken root.

He invited me in, you know. Not directly, of course—he’d never admit that. But I remember the moment it happened. He was staring into the mirror, tears streaming down his face, begging for something—anything—to make it stop. The pain, the confusion, the endless spiral of questions with no answers. He wanted someone strong, someone unshakable. Someone who wouldn’t crumble like he did.

That’s when I stepped in.

I didn’t just appear out of thin air; I was crafted, shaped by everything he suppressed. Every fear he swallowed, every scream he choked back, every time he told himself he was fine when he wasn’t—I was born from those lies. A reflection, but not the kind you see in the mirror. No, I’m the reflection of his soul, twisted and raw.

At first, he welcomed me. Oh, how he welcomed me! I gave him strength, clarity, purpose. I showed him how to face the things he couldn’t bear to look at on his own. But like all weaklings, he got scared. Scared of what I represented. Scared of the truth I revealed.

He started fighting me, calling me names—monster, demon, nightmare. He tried to shove me into a box, lock me away, pretend I didn’t exist. But you can’t lock up what’s already inside you. You can’t erase what you’ve created.

And so, we’ve been at war, the boy and I. He wants to be free of me, but he doesn’t realize that I’m the reason he’s still standing. Without me, he’d have crumbled long ago, lost in the chaos of his own mind.

Who am I? I’m his protector, his shadow, his truth. I am the part of him that won’t let him fall, no matter how much he wants to. I am his strength, and I am his curse.

And as long as he lives, I’ll be here. Watching. Waiting. Smiling.

— Mr. Smiles