When I write, I’m a God. For a moment, for however long the pen glides across the page or my fingers dance across the keys, I am not bound by the mundane. I am limitless. It’s better than a lucid dream because in those, you’re merely a spectator with a hint of control. But here? Here I don’t just watch—I create. I visualize not just where I go, but where I take you with me.

Every word is a brushstroke, every sentence a command. Worlds rise and fall because I will it. Characters love, fight, live, and die because I allow it. I am omnipotent here, unchallenged, unrivaled. Reality bends to my whim, and for a fleeting moment, the chaos of existence feels orderly, purposeful. My purpose.

It’s intoxicating. The act of building something out of nothing, of conjuring entire universes with nothing more than thought and the will to make it so. I can step into the mind of a hero or a villain. I can rewrite my own past, shape my own future, or leave it all behind for something entirely new. When I write, I am not confined by my circumstances or my flaws. I am infinite.

And yet, it’s not just about me. It’s about you. When I write, I don’t just see the world through my eyes—I drag you into it with me. I make you feel the weight of my creation, make you see what I see, feel what I feel. It’s not enough to visualize where I go—I need you there beside me, watching it unfold, powerless to do anything but follow the path I’ve laid out.

It’s better than a lucid dream because it’s real. Not in the tangible sense, no, but real in its impact. Real in the way it lives in your mind long after the final sentence. I plant seeds in your imagination and let them grow, tendrils wrapping around your thoughts, pulling you back to the world I’ve made.

And when I stop, when the pen rests or the keys fall silent, I step back into reality. But for those moments, however fleeting, I was more than human. I was creator, architect, ruler. I was God. And you? You were exactly where I wanted you to be. Not because you chose to follow me, but because I made it impossible not to.

That’s the power of writing. It’s not just storytelling. It’s domination. It’s transcendence. And for those moments when the words flow like blood through my veins, I am untouchable. The world bows to me, and for just a while, nothing else matters. When I write, I own it all. And so do you. Because I’ve made it so.