I throw random words on the page. I hope to hit upon something to write about but not much crosses my mind. Wizards and fireballs strike me. I’ve forgotten how to enjoy magic. It is not only a weapon but also an expression. Imagine the beauty of its use instead of its violence. It happens in the today (it’s so hard for beauty to happen when life is so cheap). I have magic but I don’t use it to hurt people or help people. I use it to express what people feel, to share in a common experience.

I am an empath. The world doesn’t know about me but I know about it. I don’t foil bank robberies or solve unsolved murders. I don’t leap buildings in a single bound or catch bullets in my mouth. I work to make the world understand itself better through the small powers at my disposal. I create art. My art moves people because I see in the flows of emotions how it affects people. I wasn’t always a nice person. I used to use this to my advantage. There was a time I lived the life. I was the man. I was rich and successful and had everything. And then I had nothing.

You don’t believe me. I don’t take offense. There are other people like me. They’d prefer I didn’t talk about us, about our powers. They think we’re better than you. I used to believe them.

There are people who inhabit the world who are the same. It’s like the memory game where you flip cards over two at a time and try to remember where the matches are. People are like that, but there are many more than just two of any person. It shouldn’t be surprising. Given the billions of people that have lived, why shouldn’t there be a couple of copies, at least on the big things.

They say they solved where deju vu comes from. They’re wrong.

All magic is about characters. Magic allows different types of interaction and creates conflict. Use that as the basis for story, and use story for basis of plot.