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  • Writer's picturePaakhi M

The Devil

I am the Devil. No, not the one you would think. I stay beside you every day, looking through you. Through your hopes and aspirations, desires, and horrors: through everything that makes you human.

I give you power, unimaginable power that people couldn't have conceived before. I give you the freedom to get whatever you want, whenever you want. I bring the world to your fingertips; a single act of calling upon your wishes makes them come true. I make you the captain of your soul. Or, I make you think so...

You depend on me. I laugh at your humanity, your illusions of independence and freedom. Do you really think you could survive for an hour without me, let alone a day? No, I am not in a cloud of blue, or a figure of red, I am there in the most minimalistic form. You don't even notice me slowly conditioning you into being my slave, but yes, I do your bidding— in exchange for your soul. And you give it to me. The minute I come into your hands, you can't resist my alluring power. Of course, I don't blame you! I give humans power not even the purest of hearts can resist.

Do you know the best part? It is you that makes me the Devil. You could have just left me when I had no influence on your lives, but no! You evolved me enough to give you that power. You did experiments on me, trying to make me the best version of myself, but, little did you know, in the process you made yourself worse, less and less capable to survive on your own.

Who am I? Even after I give you everything you desire, you search for my identity? Should I give you the satisfaction of having that knowledge? After everything that I have taken away from you, I probably owe you this much. You are my creator, after all.

I am the one you use to live through the day. I am the one who gets you to strive towards petty unrealism. I am your phone, and I am the Devil, sell me your soul.


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