I can’t see you, but I know you are there. I can feel it.

You watch my every move. You read my every thought. And on a whim, you replay the moments of my life in your head, forcing me to relive them in the exact same way each time.

You see me suffer. You drink in the searing emotion that courses through my veins. And you find it entertaining. You see me overcome, and the sweet, smooth taste of success is very slightly tainted by your ever-present, ever-silent shadow.

When you came here, you were a total stranger to me. When you leave, I will know nothing more about you than I did at the start. Nothing more than the fact that whenever you look at me you burn my paper flesh with your eyes, and I am powerless to stop you from perusing the pages of the book where I live.