Good evening, Rose Written on a torrential day...

I am writing this letter in response to your wish to get to know me better.

Revealing my external information such as my age, my physical appearance and my whereabouts will lead us to nothing interesting. What resides inside makes us individuals so unique. I would rather convey distinctive feelings about how I perceive the world and express the way it affects me in general life.

After reading your letter, I noticed that a great spiritual presence flows in you and I presume you gain some sort of devout energy from it: happiness, fortitude, faith, etc.

However, this kind of company is unknown to me.

I live in an ersatz world. A deceiving delusion supersedes my reality. I’ve been continuously haunted by a mad, cynical clown tainting my vision of the outside world. He lives inside me and is fed by my thoughts. I incessantly feel broken, fallen as he keeps dissolving me into an incomplete being. I cannot remove him from me for he is bound to my hapless soul and forever imprisoned in my ill-fated body. At night, he is summoned by the darkness thus making my sleep a torturing, excruciating experience.

This daunting predator always appears as a living deviltry. Dressed up in red war paint with drool constantly dripping from his mouth his pale, insipid skin dreadfully fits with his hirsute tentacle hair. Disfigured by numerous scars throughout his frown and blemished by the ashes of his inexhaustible cigar, the jester reveals a ghastly set of crooked teeth. However, these facial features do not match the evilness of his eyes. The cerulean twins outshine the sinister atmosphere in which the clown looms in my head. Needless to say, his physiognomy makes him the utmost appalling foe I have ever encountered.

Not only his appearance frightens me, but a series of malevolent symptoms have been developing since he has been perturbing me. I feel his cold presence surrounding my body as I shudder from those frigid shivers emanating from his icy aura. I hear his snarling guffaws echoing in my head as my ears split from his raucous shrieks. I smell his foul reek streaming through my nose as it gets stung by his smothering perfume.

I cannot heat myself in the deep freeze. I cannot plead for mercy in the cacophony. I cannot breathe in the poisonous gas. I cannot rely on my senses for my sustenance in this atrophy. I cannot live. The opposing victory was complete in the corporeal supremacy: the clown’s ubiquity is indisputable.

The parody of his ostentatious expressions of absurdity, farce and mockery defile my consciousness to faintheartedness. The combined inanity of slapstick and pantomime create mayhem: insolent tongue protrusion and derisive mimicries bamboozle my life into a topsy-turvy, cumbersome illusion… even through an unbearable trauma. As he prances in his hellish revelry, I am forced to submit myself into an agonizing state of insanity.

As my body decays, my mind wanes and my soul withers, I undeniably approach a culminant point of self-destruction.

Boldness, courage and hardihood remain my best weapons to counter the insidious parasite’s lust for corruption even though I can only endure pain from the clown’s grasp. With no haste to free myself, I have received an everlasting punishment.

As you can see, we do not share the same fate.

However, take into consideration that it is not my place to worry you about my condition. I strangely feel relieved, invigorated by the dark clown’s presence. The way he makes a fool out of me remembers me that every being, even the cruelest of them all, irrefutably holds the capacity to make another laugh.

Yours truly,

The Joker