Writers: Sinners!

We writers commit sin all the time. We watch from afar, we don't get involved, and yet we live people's lives with them. Thieves. This could be called schizophrenia by psychologists, even lying to ourselves - we called it delight. Sick. We share moments with people, and they never find out. We watch over in the creepiest way, yet people keep the idea that we're making art. Stalkers. We enjoy the company of strangers that will later give birth to characters, and they will never know the fictional person has their genes. In this sense, we create a lot of fatherless bastards --no, this is not redundant, the second alludes to their personality. We take the place of a god and modify reality to make it look better and tell god we have a second opinion. Profane. Liars. We denigrate, humiliate, and expose. Monsters. We're the worst. We deprive ourselves from some humanity to make people purge to what does even tickle us. We're helpless, and we wouldn't choose another life if we had to.