A strange life.

He sits in a dark apartment trying to keep track of all the lies he's told, feeling powerful behind his keyboard because it's all he owns.

Gollum: But perhaps we sits here and chats with it a bitsy, my precious. It likes riddles? 

He thinks he's safe sitting in the shadows unaware of the demons who pull his strings, unaware of the laughter of those he tries to harass, unaware that life is slowly draining away from his body with every keystroke of deception. Alcohol and drugs are his plasma. He breathes Anger and Hate. He destroyed everything good in his life. He killed his own soul.

He fools no one but himself.

(the beginning or the end of an unfinished story?)