Dear you,

	I created you. Yes, you, sitting there at your desk reading this very letter. It is I, the Creator of 
the Universe, writing a very personable letter to you. Why you, you ask? Because it is time the truth be 
told, that the gig be revealed – you are the only one with free will. The six and half billion bags of meat 
and bones surrounding you on that little blue marble I created are empty. Don't misunderstand me, they 
have a beating heart and aching bowels just the same as you. It's their head that's empty – nothing there, 
not even a peanut for a brain. I control every single human being on planet Earth except for one – you.
	How can this be, you ask? Simple, really – everything they do, or rather claim to do, is actually 
me. Think of it as cosmic ventriloquism, but without my divine fist sticking guiltily up the backside of 
anyone. Remember that tussle you had on the elementary school playground? You're right hook was 
killer, but it was the jab to the stomach that took you down. That was my jab – my fingers curled into a 
ball, crashing into your tubby little tummy. All the way up to now, I've had a role in your life. 
Remember when you applied for the job you now currently hold at the University of Chicago 
admissions office? You thought your resume was weak and that you performed miserably at the 
interview, and you did. The only reason why you got that job was because of me giving you a break. 
Besides, the other applicants were too whiny and smelled rotten anyways.
	I know what you're thinking - I am the Creator, after all. How can you have free will if I am 
directing your life along? It's tricky to explain, but its true. Think of an empty room with nothing inside 
of it but a desk upon which sits a number two pencil, a pen, and a sheet of paper. I have created this 
room and everything within it specifically for you, and now place you within it. What will you do? 
Chances are you will begin to draw upon the paper. Yes, I did move you to do this by placing those 
artistically oriented objects within the room, but what if you don't draw? With your free will, you can 
do anything you want. Maybe you create a paper airplane and toss it about the room, or you lay on the 
floor and take a nap, or you flip the desk in a fit of an unknowing rage, who knows? 
	That is the beauty of our relationship - I can attempt to influence what you do by placing objects 
in front of you, but in no way can I even attempt to guess how you will act. Think of the world as a 
giant laboratory in which you run about, and I as a ego maniacal scientist manipulating every possible 
variable simply to elicit a response from you. I want anger? That was your math career in high school – 
boy were you horrible at tangential curves. I want sadness? That was the death of a loved one - I loved 
her just as much as you did. I want frustration? That was the awfully ugly 19th century pointillism style 
painting your mother had.
	I hear the question echo in your mind – why would I do this? After all, I am the Creator of the 
Universe – there must be something better for me to do. I can conjure tempests at will, spin galaxies 
with a twirl of my pinky, and I waste my time on you? Know this – there is nothing more amusing to an 
omnipotent being than to set your creating lose. Every single day, I am surprised and flabbergasted by 
your reactions to the stimuli I place all around you. I laugh with you when you fumble and I cry with 
you when you fail miserably – it is through you that I am able to feel. Emotions, my dear, come only 
through free will – predestination leaves nothing to be felt.
	And so the curtain is dropped, and the forever ticking mechanisms that run your little world are 
exposed.  What will you do? Even I, the Creator of the Universe, do not know, and it is that simple fact 
that makes you a beautiful little human being, clinging to a bright blue ball spinning at 64,802 miles an 
hour. 

									So long, and take care-
									
									Yahweh, Allah, God, Jehova, 	
									etc. - your personal deity