Text doesn't talk to you, it's just there - on your screen. Or maybe already in your head. Text doesn't scream, text doesn't make any wild gestures, it doesn't flounder around and shows you great animations while you're reading. It only sits there, still and firm, grounded like an harmless old tree. But in your mind it becomes already a reckless stream of meaningful symbols and ideas, which suddenly slips right under your skin and immediately stimulates your inner workings beneath it: To catch and keep your attention, to bend your feelings and to get you to halucinate a non-existing reality where YOU are the fucking HERO who saves the world - while blatantly fooling and betraying you behind your back at the same time.

With every more word it squeezes itself deeper and deeper into your mind, demanding increasingly more space till you're either forced to deal with it, like with someone who just went right through the door of your home and occupied your sofa - or till you're loosing all of what's left of your own thoughts and will.

And it does all this without even making a tiny little noise, quite non-chalant, purposeful and intentional. But I tell you a little secret that will save you: Text actually moves only if your brain processes it. If you're fed up with it and stop reading, it just makes *poof* and disappears. Just so. And leaves you the entire space again. And the sofa.

...

You being like:

And me being like: