There’s a bug in my room. Or rather there was a bug in my room. It’s dead. I think it was a centipede or a millipede. I don’t even remember killing it, but I know it was me. Its carcass lies on the wall of the corner of my room. It’s been there for years. I know it’s been at least four years. I used to call him Bob the cockroach as a joke when I’d look up and see it on my wall.
Its innards have long been eaten by some other bugs in my room. Life hasn’t been in it. It’s just an empty shell. Nobody would even know it existed. This bug had no name. It was just popped out by its parents, then left to fend for itself. That is my great power. I grant this bug existence by remembering it and looking up at that corner. There’s not a living creature in the world who cares what happened to this millipede. I murdered it. I ended its life just because it looked creepy. There’s no parents worrying about what happened to it. There’s no void in the world now that it is dead. It didn’t matter to the world whether or not this particular bug lived. It might as well not even have existed.
Was there any value to its life? I don’t know what this bug did before I ended it. I have some theories but I will never know how it lived its life. It was crushed to death. A terrible way to die. I killed this bug and I’ll never be punished for it. Nobody cares about a millipede or centipede or what ever the heck it was.
My great power is to give this bug significance and existence. The world has forgotten this bug. The world never cared about this bug. I give this bug purpose. Whenever I remember it, it matters for once. I’ve killed many bugs just like that one. Their dead bodies aren’t hanging in my room like this one. Its body grows harder and harder as the years pass by. One day it might fall. And then perhaps I’ll forget about that bug. It won’t exist at that time unless I recall it.
One day I’ll die and my memories will go with me. Then it will fade from this world forever. It will never exist again. Does it matter? There’s loads of these bugs. I see bugs just like it all over the place. Does it need to exist anymore? Is there any point to me remembering this bug that the world has moved on from? A bug with no name. A bug with parents that didn’t care for it. A bug that died because a young boy found that it offended his sight. I suppose there’s not much of a point to keeping it in mind at all.
I only remember it to flex my own ego. I control the existence of a creature. Even though the creature is insignificant to the world, I still hold the power of its existence in my hands. A great power. Of course, that power is no longer mine alone. Anyone who reads this now grants the bug existence. Through my words, I’ve granted the bug a more permanent place of existence. It now rests among the data surfing around the internet.
I don’t know how long this bug will exist in this form. I have no control over it. WordPress could take its site down one day long after I die. taking away the bug’s existence once and for all. It’s fun to be able to decide whether something will exist or not and how it will continue to exist. I might use this power again on the next bug I encounter.