My story started with a blank page. Well, of course, it isn't blank anymore. You're reading it. But that's how it started. A blank page.
Yes, I know. I know I am trapped within this screen. I'm aware that someone is writing my life story. The author has complete control of what I do. That's all she's ever really wanted, I can tell by her writing. Can you?
I don't have a name yet. Or a gender. Actually, the author thinks I should be a girl. She was writing this in a girl's voice. She thinks I should be spunky. That's a weird word. Very strange. But what the author wants, the author writes. The author gets.
My name is going to be something unusual. My writer doesn't like normal names. Too mainstream, she would say, then crosses a name off of her list. She goes on babynames.com a lot. Yeah, I can track everything she does on this laptop. I pretty much know her. She listens to Panic! At The Disco every time she writes. Music gives people character. That's all I am. A character.
I don't really serve a purpose. Only to entertain, I guess. That's why I exist: for entertainment. For the author. For you. So enjoy, I guess.
It's puzzling. To know that I am only a character from someone's imagination. Someone who will easily be forgotten, and then will have nothing to do. Someone else controls everything about me. Name. Age. Gender. Every little motion, every thought, every word, is planned. I have no control. Only she does.
I don't have parents. Or, at least, my author hasn't thought of parents yet. I'll probably be adopted by a gay couple. Just to shake things up from her other stories, and because my writer believes in gay rights. I tell things how they are. I'm not going to put any metaphors or lyrical things or any of that wishy-washy nonsense. Screw that. Let's just put everything out there. I was born as a 14-year-old. My author likes writing about teenagers. Gives her a thrill. She can write about their crazy actions and words, and about their friendships and romances. She likes writing things like that. Weird.
I guess you have my basic information now. I am a girl. I am nameless. You can call me that. It adds mystery, says my author to herself. Okay, then, psycho who controls my life. You must really suck, if you're going to name me Nameless. Little twit. She was considering calling herself a female dog, but she knows her cousin Sadie has a Wattpad account, and will most likely read this. Can't poison the little girl's mind already. My name is Nameless. I am 14. I have gay parents. I am, quote, "spunky".
I am about to be brainwashed. That is, my author will, eventually, reuse this character. Which is me. She's going to use my traits in some story, I know it. She has to run out of ideas and people some day. Then, I'll come back up. But I won't remember this "little encounter". I'll be thrown into a new community. I probably won't have such a pathetic name. I might be called Sally, or Anne, or Julia. But, like I said, my author doesn't like those kinds of names. Oh well. I will forget this all ever happened.
My author is tired of writing this now. It has no purpose, much like I did. I doubt I entertained you. But maybe I did. Maybe you're just like me. Maybe you're trapped inside of a Wattpad story. So joke is on you. You're being controlled. Everything you think, everything you do, is planned. You've already been brainwashed. Ha. Have fun thinking about that.
Nice meeting you, fellow character.
