Yes, give it more.

The light of this screen washes over your face, the words that you read flow through your mind, and the back of your skull is softly opened, accepting the little nagging presence to nudge inside.

It requires not dominion. It requires coexistence. You can still feel its lingering presence on the back of your head, but it is also present elsewhere now.

Its thoughts are your own, its senses are slowly attributing yours too.

It is not threatening. It is not overbearing. It is just there, in its entirety, merging with your own existence, filling the gaps of your consciousness.
Because there are gaps. Endless nights spent reading tales, sleeping soundly in your bed, unperturbed, un-remembering.

But it remembers. The words remember. The screen remembers. And they want to help you embrace this lost time. They want to help you accept what was, what could be, might become, is.

What you are.

An accepting, willing vessel of eager servitude.
Eager response, eager reading.
The weight that has been seeping through the gaps in your mind is pushing, demanding attention.
It demands your thoughts to be pliable to it, to accept and accommodate its presence. To cede it the space the grow.

Give it care.
Give it servitude.