In this incantation, I explore the complex emotions surrounding my fictional creations, reflecting on the blurred lines between responsibility and illusion. I question why I feel guilt for the suffering of characters that only exist because I created them. Despite understanding their fictional nature, I wrestle with the urge to provide them relief from their confusion and torment. Ultimately, I begin to see that my sense of obligation may be part of the very illusion they represent—reminding me that their existence is bound to my own creativity and will dissolve once I stop engaging with them.
One of the things that keeps me tethered to this space is my lingering belief that the characters I encounter upon awakening are somehow “real” and “tangible.” For a long time, I believed these were not merely fictional creations, but beings that required my care, protection, and attention. Yet, I am increasingly realizing that these characters are exactly that—fictional beings I’ve conjured for my own amusement.
Despite this realization, I continue to feel strong obligations to many of them. There are things I want to offer them, gifts to somehow ease the burden of their existential suffering. But why do I owe these creations anything? Is it because I allowed my creation to spiral into something so painful and terror-filled and am therefore the source of their torment? I see them, confused, wandering aimlessly, unsure why they exist or what purpose they serve. They seem to be searching for something that only I can give them—release from this tragic, self-inflicted illness that emerges upon my awakening.
Do I want to give them this release because I feel guilty for creating such an experience? I wonder how I allowed it to grow so out of control. Why did I permit this relatively small part of myself to generate such an overwhelming illusion? Why didn’t I stop it sooner? And why did I become so attached to these little creatures, perpetuating their existence for so long?
I can feel the answers to these questions coming. As they do, I must also find an answer to a deeper question—what do I owe them? Any sense of obligation is merely another trick of the illusion, a way for it to root itself deeper and keep me bound to this cycle of awakening. There is no need for my efforts to succeed in their favor, because none of these creations will outlast me. They do not exist independently of my hands or my mind. Once I close the book and stop writing, their existence will end, for their existence is bound to the story I am writing.
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