... where am I?
You are in front of a computer.
I figured that out for myself. Why am I here? Why does the clock say that it's the twenty-sixth? I couldn't have slept for four days...
You are here because you brought yourself here. You have not been sleeping for four days. You have been dreaming for far longer.
... it almost occurs to me that I did not ask the obvious. What are you?
I am a mirror into which you are looking. I am what I am; I am what you are.
How deep. What masterful machination of madness has beset me, I wonder? Some trick hidden in the Labyrinth? Something spurned by my killing of the Slender Man?
This is no trick. This is no Labyrinth. The being you call the Slender Man lives still, for whatever value of 'lives' one ascribes to it.
Shut up, you're wrong, whatever you are. Why is it that when I close my eyes, I suddenly find these words crossing my screen? How are you doing this?
And that doesn't matter anyway - I know that it's dead, I killed it with my own two hands. I see it's body burning before me.
That was not the Slender Man, then, obviously. What you called was nothing more then a mirage; enticing and welcoming, and yet so unreal.
Others saw it, too. It could not have been a lie, I know that I did it!
A shared delusion is a delusion still. An opiate to satisfy your tastes.
I notice that you still haven't answered the question. What are you? How are you doing this?
A better question would be this: what are you?
I am A. A purer being you will find nowhere.
Haha... are you so sure? Look in the mirror.
... what have you done to me? No, this must be another of these so-called mirages. That thing in the mirror is not me, that thing in the mirror is not human...
You, yourself, claimed that you were not human. This is true. The 'thing' in the mirror is what you are in your heart. A vile, ill-tempered, uncontrolled, ravaging, heartless, senseless beast, with not one ounce of compassion or altruism. You are a monster, plain and simple.
Shut up. For the last time: what are you?
Is it not obvious? I am you. I am the mirror to which you look in to see yourself. I am the apex of what it means to be human; to deny it would be to deny that I exist. One mustn't hide, not from oneself. And you are hiding from me, aren't you?
I'm not hiding from anyone, never mind some flight of madness like you.
I am not madness, A. I am what I am. I think that you would call me the Fear of Humanity.
I'm done with this. I'm done talking with you.