DEAR READER

Dear Reader,

I do not like you. It is not my job to like you. It is my job to please you - they are not the same. It is a job self-imposed, one that's payment is all made up, one that's sometimes worth it and sometimes the metaphorical equivalent of sludging through mud.

I do not like you. You are a symbolic of the agenda I inforce onto myself and you are the motivation to continue. You like what I produce and I suppose I value that

I do not like you, dear Reader.

Chaos ensues. Chaos loves to ensue, it always does. It loves to wrap around the Reader, the Writer and everything in between and it likes to wriggle the brain and make itself a home.

Do not let chaos fool you - do not let me fool you

Life is not interesting to you because you are not the universe's Main Character.

Nothing I say here will have any weight unless you treat it like it does - and are my words not as light as a feather, Reader? I see a world filled with hate and war and I do not turn my cheek to the other side as much as shove my face into the first. One might condemn apathy and one will be right to - but I am too apathetic to care.

I do not like you. It is a fact that conditions you not to like me, either.

With disrespect and appreciation and every fick