Yes, I'm quite scary with my bursts of excitement sometimes.

The man lie low in his room. His notebook was torn apart by it's own creator. It withered away because it's own god destroyed it with his overwhelming and terrifying creativity. The man dug up dirt from his nails, and flicked them off to the corner of the room. A strange creature buzzed around and bumped into the lightbulb. Light flickered like fire, danced like snakes. The what seemed to be a mechanic fly fell down, and it's noises died off.

 The mind crippling work poured into the lifeform which was no bigger than a candy died off as quick as it was given birth. The giant, huddled before the strange machine with it's lights flickering from blue to orange, stroked his shabby, brown hair. Beep. He felt a little uncomfortable, edged a little closer. A small glance at his pinky made him turn back in an instant. "An accident?" He spoke to himself, but adressed to the machine recording him. "No, haha. This is the jokes of my fellows over there back at [b]security division.[/b] Especially that brute, Maxim." He spoke in a funny eastern european accent, his swollen, tired eyes pacing around the room. "They didn't throw this mess on the floor on accident, that is because they [b]mock[/b] me." 

"But I refused to clean it, said they should help me out instead of playing this stupid game, and in response.." he needed not to explain the aftermath, just looked at his bandaged finger. A ragged sigh scattered across the dimly lit room. He stared at a strange contraption of sorts that he kept innovating. He started creating the strange [i]thing[/i] some time ago, mostly out of boredoom. The only thing he was conversing with was this stupid, recording machine. And he needed a friend, oh how he wanted someone to help him out. His whole life was working, sleeping, eating, and being picked on. He slowly felt the meaning of life fade away from him. It was slowly turning him paranoid, depressed. But he found his hyperactivity when it came to making the strange contraption. He felt he was making a friend. The rational thoughts left him after he finished working, all he would do is create and create and create. It was his small world he loved with all his heart. And for as he felt like a king, he began to question the reality. 

He began thinking.