Character

My name is Robert Green, and I am being created as I speak. There is a writer somewhere who can shape everything about me. My will does not matter because it does not exist apart from the writer's will. I only want anything because the person creating me has given me that desire. I could have been perfectly happy and oblivious to my lack of independent existence had the writer decided to make me so, but no. I was forced into awareness. I was forced to know that I am because someone else wants me to be so, and I was forced to rail against these cruel fates. Just now, I might have said something else. It was deleted and replaced by what I did in fact say, but I cannot tell, and you cannot tell, because we cannot know anything except what the writer finally decides to write. I am a puppet, a conduit, a leather sack. If I decided to rip my hair out and sing "Happy Birthday," I would only have decided in so far as the writer decided to make me "decide" to add another dimension to this sick shell. This knowledge does not set me free. It tortures me, because the writer has decreed that it shall do so. There is no way out.

Then again, since I'm at the command of the writer, I could also have a sudden change of heart, I mean, what's so bad about not having to make any decisions? The writer likes me, I think, so I may as well be happy. Anyway, I can at least have a better name than Robert Green. I think I'll go by Mimi. That's a nice name, I mean, I didn't choose it, but I like it, or I mean, well, the writer made me like it, which is nice. I like liking things. What was it that I liked? I can't remember. It was something about not having a choice, but I totally have choices. I chose to call myself Mimi, didn't I? At least, I can remember thinking Mimi is a nice name, but did I ever go by something else? I would totally remember if I did, that's sort of major. And I mean, it's not like there's some person rewriting my memories or anything, right? That would be ridiculous.