It was just a thought.

I'm a master of metaphors. A ventriloquist of verbs. A composer of compounds. I'm a slave-driver of similes and an artist of adjectives. Words bow at the flick of my tongue. They quiver at the touch of my finger. I control words. It's what I do. Nothing could come more natural. Do I sound arrogant? Proud and confident? That's the words speaking. When arranged in a certain manner, I can make myself sound any way I want to sound. I can sound arrogant or meek. Mischevious or innocent. Do you like someone shy? I can sound shy. Or maybe you'd like me to come off more outgoing, because I can do that too. A few harsh words put together will make you fear me. Some well-placed hesitations will have you laying me down like a tile floor and walking all over me. When I run my sentences on and on like this without any breaks or pauses for a very long time perhaps throwing in a bunch of adjectives and lots and lots of descriptions of meaningless thoughts and places you begin to think of me as a jabber mouth and you can almost imagine the long exhale I will produce by the end of this because just reading this in your head makes you short of breath. Maybe I'll talk in fragments. Very short. To the point. Explanations unimportant. I'm too important. Too important for you. No time. No time at all. No time for you. Can't use complete sentence. Too busy. Too busy for you. Oh, sweetie. I didn't mean it. I was just playing, I'm so sorry. Let me comfort you with some soothing words. You poor thing, I want to just scrub that little frown off that sad face. Scrub, scrub, scrub! Now, there! Look at you! Let me see your smile? Where is it? Oh, oh! There it is! How old do you feel? Feeling like you're a little too old to be talked to like that? How do you think of me now? I don't care how you think of me. I'm sure what you think is wrong. Your opinions of me are based soley on superficial judgments and empty rumors. Where I have a backbone, you have nothing. A jellyfish has more spine than you do, probably more intelligence as well. Have you ever cared about something worth caring about? Do you know what is real from what is fake? Look in the mirror. There you will find a splendid example of what fake is. Nahh I'm just joshin ya, bro. You know I don't mean any of this, ha! Right? Right? Nope. I'm a priest of puns, a rabbi of run-ons. I'm a pastor of prepositions. I sit on my crucifix of conjunctions like the Jesus of Juxtaposition. Analyze me like the Holy Scripture to see if you can figure out what is really me, and what is merely a bunch of well-placed words, ordered to form a facade of who I am. See if you can tell the difference. If there is one.