Mutation

Mutation, Mercenary Editor, Dangerously Genre Savvy, Black-Eyed, Soft-Spoken, and Wry. At your service. *inclines head*

You've noticed me, and I've noticed that you've noticed me.

This is supposed to be about me, but it's not. It's about you. Hello. How are you? Politeness is important, I think. Let's talk about you.

Look at you, sitting there, reading this. You're not like they describe you. The way you hold your head, though, it's like someone I know. I can't think who. Have you ever looked at a human eye, right up close, so you can see the little patterns and colors inside? If eyes are windows on the soul then we have alien souls.

Alien souls...that's a good idea for a book. You can use it if you like, although probably it's been done. Everything's been done. You should resign yourself to it, and create anyway. Someone somewhere sometime said that good artists invent and great artists steal, but that's wrong because all artists invent and all artists steal, but some do it better than others.

But that's enough of story time. Let's get back to you. What do you feel insecure about? Your nose? Your laugh? Some desperate secret that you bury deep down? Do you ever fear that mediocrity is your nature and nothing will change that? That's all fine. You're not alone because you're never alone.

I though you might like to know that. I don't mean to pry. I don't mean to upset you, or even make you annoyed, but it's a good thing to remember now and then.


This is supposed to be about me, but it's not. Here's something that is about me, though, and it may seem like hubris or wishful thinking, but it's not. 

Because I'm not like you. 
I'm different.



This account description came out...bitter, perhaps? Contemplative? Bitterness isn't worth a thought or a moment. But contemplation is best achieved when looking up at the stars for a very long time, and imagining that they are eyes, alien, like your own, and imagining that every single one is staring back at you.