No wait. Don't look. Just...
You don't have time for fancy poetry. It's almost as useless as having your thoughts dictated to you, assuming you were even aware of that happening, which you definitely aren't. Cherubs aren't prone to that kind of self awareness. No way, absolutely not. Yes, you believe that thought. The one you had just now, by your own volition, and now it's true reality. See? Yes, you agree totally with that thought you had.
Frankly you don't know about stuff skimming holes or alertness to some purely hypothetical flow of narrative or whatever. You've got MAJOR PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEMS. You were meant to be a monster. To destroy something huge and really important, perhaps repeatedly, and to be a total shithead about it. You just haven't found the road that'll take you there yet. Somewhere in this depressing empty lot of a session there is a quest waiting for you. You are determined to squeeze more blood from this pathetic stone than all the naturally occurring puppets in paradox space keep in their squishy little torsos combined.
You stew in your own quasi-lucid hostility as you think this very thought. The one right here, that feels like it's being dictated to you, you think. You think it feels that way, so you guess it's true. But we previously agreed that you were the sole author of your own thoughts, didn't we? That's the thought you should be thinking, and more importantly, believing in as hard as you can, thus slightly reducing its stubborn fakeness attribute. You then think the word, HUH? That doesn't sound like a thought you would have, you think to yourself thoughtfully. What the fuck? But seriously, you've got to stop this. If you keep thinking thoughts like this, you'll probably start going crazy. And if you start going crazy, this desolate one player session will start to feel a lot longer than it's already going to, and more specifically, than it already did. Still, you can't quite shake the feeling.
You have a feeling it's already been a long--Hey!