I'm not really sure what to write today. 
Maybe I should weave my descriptive magic to ensnare you in the web of strange oddities that ejects itself from my mind every now and then.  But I wonder if it might drive you mad to be thus captivated.  Perhaps. 

I do know of some who would pull up a chair and challenge me with but a look, to entertain.  Thereafter uttering a tiresome yawn and drift into the preferable strangeness of the dreams within their own minds.  Those which might horrify even I to the brink of madness and perhaps even beyond. 

Such is the nature of some with whom I have associated in the past, of this I am certain.  Perhaps some with whom I share myself still.  For who can say what the meek and quiet may someday be compelled to do.  What horrendous inklings lurk behind their soft and thoughtful eyes, waiting only for the catalyst to set their cogs to working.  And then, through unforseen breakthrough, finally do their twisted deviations come crashing through the thin veil of imagination.  Here now to rear their monsterous heads high above the mewling pups stranded in reality.  Insignificance stamped out by that superior power that no man may stop and nothing can contain save for the will of the puppet whos strings they pull.  Helpless is that puppet?  Perhaps not so much as those unleashed devils presume.  His is the power to cast the net and reign them in, setting his sentinal by the door and thus guard against escape.  His is the power to release that torrent upon those who would harm him.  And so now which is the puppet and which is the master?   

I ask you which would be more damning.  Which more horrific?  To have those tempests within your mind, tearing and ripping at you until you have no course left.  Until you must give yourself to them and then dive into the safety of oblivion while they do what they will with you.  Never wanting to know what tortures are inflicted with your own hand.  Consciously aware only when those evils have bored of their play and have bedded for a time.

Or, to have hold of their reigns.  To still have that wailing fury screaming within, but have the conscious ability and desire to unleash it at will, destroying those which caused your focus to light upon them for whatever reason and being happier for it.  A terrible wolf in the guise of the lamb, a monster brought forth from the chaos of its own twisted mind.  Knowledgeable and calculating and wholely in control.

I ask this because I am aware...that some of you possess the answer.  So fear not the workings of the mind of SNEEVIL, but your own.  I pray you do not gaze too deep into murk of the dark pits within which you have attempted to drown your most horrible ambitions.  Though barely stirring, they will not die.  Do not break the seal that binds them to that foul place.  You may find that which you did not expect.  Thar be monsters.