The Essence Of

I know I drive you crazy. I know I keep you within the iridescent boundaries of sanity. Quite a humorous concept. I know you're not the only one. It seems that many people indulge themselves into this perceived ideology of my reflection. Frankly, I am aware of what it is I do. What it is I'm "capable of". The game I've mastered, you could call me the creator, if that fulfills your wishes. What most that succumb to my "maniacal" & deceiving" ways seem to overlook, is to ask "why". Why I choose to play, to toy, to excavate into one's innermost soul, conform them into a "friend", possibly allow them to enter the most hidden confines of my entirety, only to later wipe out your existence in my eyes, along with anything you could've possibly gained through our time together. I'm not nice. I pass judgement on everything &anything that breathes. Not exactly a trait I'm proud of. But, who sees that upon a first encounter with Kryxiane? No one. Even you, as your eyes shift back and forth, scanning mercilessly for flaw; you. You can't say that you knew my game from the start. Because in reality, if you did, you wouldn't be here right now. You wouldn't be here, within arm's reach of me. You wouldn't be, in your room, less than a mile away from here, still now and forever attempting to cleanse your mind of what I've done. I enjoy drawing people in; however, I don't condemn those who gain multitudes of people through a "front". Sure, I "play it safe" from the "get-go", show you what you'd normally be attracted to; but in retrospect, you end up seeing me, what I want you to see. What I want you to still be attracted to. From a general perspective, isn't that the story of us all? I guess I can't vouch for that. I don't know the intentions of most, certainly not all. But I can comfortably speak with certainty that there are souls out there that could be construed as identical to me, fellow game players, if you will. They meet someone, depict a charming, and warm human being. Draw you in, casting you under this spell in which you believe you've found something so intangible, so remarkable, a sight so incredible you're instantly hooked. You ease the tension in your muscles, open your mind and heart, and give your weary feet a rest, because you believe you're finally making a dent in your lifelong search. I absolutely love the moment where I can sense genuine comfortability without much stimulation. I love to be enabled to hear/see/feel that you've fallen in love with such an invisible monster. You, yourself, allow me to breach the faux walls I've constructed, allow you to feast your eyes into my rupture of a soul. You won't see such calamity though, not at first glance, anyway. Your gorgeous eyes will only see purity, a overlooked soul, something along those lines. Is that what I want you to see? I want you to see what

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