In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing besides her that is. Sitting bored and alone in State of Mind, she tried to come up with ways to entertain herself.

She attempted to become a professional basketball player, but there was no one else in this world, so that dream was pretty quickly dismissed.

The world itself contained nothing. It was a miracle she could even stand on the ground, which was made of nothing.

Her State of Mind was neither white nor black, it was nothing. Hard to describe, but a human mind would probably just picture it as white anyway. Regardless, the color of nothingness was very boring to look at.

For a period of time so long that it can't be put into words, she would walk around her State of Mind, thinking to herself. She would come up with songs, or pace while talking out loud.

Interestingly, her mind should have had no limits, but she wasn't putting her mind to good use, so she just succumbed to boredom.

She would then spend what would normally be considered countless years just doing menial tasks to ease her boredom, however, she would usually just end up laying on the floor, playing with her hair. Her green hair she was very fond of due to its shiny nature.

Despite existing as a fundamental aspect of everything and nothing, she had yet to use any of her powers. Yes, she could do anything with her powers, including creating life to her empty world, but doing so would cause real people to wonder into the life she had been so accustomed to, and she feared that change.

Over time, she told herself that she wasn't scared of sentient beings, but instead she was simply happy being the most powerful being. A being that could not be usurped.

The problem with her logic was, that since there was nothing, she was both the strongest and the weakest. To truly be the strongest, she would have needed to create life.

Truth be told, she didn't actually care about being the strongest, she was just trying to deny her fear of the unknown by feigning arrogance.

She told herself the same thing over and over, for so long that she started to believe it herself.

One day, or night, or evening, or morning, or dusk, or dawn, or twilight, she walked around her State of Mind as per usual. However this time, as she walked, mumbling to herself, she came to stop.

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She looked up to the sky, or whatever you would call a nonexistent sky. She stared upwards as a tear rolled down her cheek.

She had broken herself and needed to create something, anything to keep her mind off of the loneliness. Her fake arrogance was slowly crumbling.

For the first time, she used her power. She created a desk, and a chair, and a book, and a pencil, and a pen.

If she wrote a story, she would create something that was real on the inside, but fake on the outside. She would have created life, with a semblance of free will, but not one she would ever have to interact in person. It was the perfect plan.

She took a seat on the chair and looked down at the empty page. She stared at it without blinking for a while. She slowly picked up the pen and put it to the paper, but she had no clue what to right about.

Well, her imagination was endless. She had plenty of ideas to write about. It's no secret that she would have an uncountable number of ideas floating around in her mind.

She had no birth, she didn't come to be, she just is. For such a being, ideas should never run out, but she couldn't decide which idea to write.

She sat motionless with her pen to paper, not writing a thing.

So many genres to be explored, so many possibilities. She couldn't just choose one, because what if she hated it, and another was better?

What tropes and clichés should be added? Should she create a cliffhanger, or maybe a plot twist? Should it be generic or something entirely different? And then what sort of subgenres should be added?

As all these thoughts spun through her mind, a realization hit her. With all this time, and endless possibilities, with an endless imagination, she could write everything. So what if she hated it? She could try again. And again. And again.

Every character trope could be exhausted an infinite number of times over, because she would never run out of time or ideas. And when she got bored with one story, she could imbed herself into the story, and see the world she created, and once inside, write a story within it. And once that story was done, she would imbed herself with that one and start over once more. And would do so forever, creating stories of lower volume ad infinitum.

She smiled to herself. "Maybe a murder mystery." she said to herself. She then finally began to write.

As she wrote, she could feel a since of happiness for once. She was creating a fake world that was only real to the people she created, but maybe that was all she needed.

She made sure to give the characters minds of their owns, but of course, she would dictate every movement in some way.

She prolonged the events of the murder mystery for many years. A truly masterful story with depth and emotion. It was obvious the story was written by a mind of absolute existence.

Once the events of the story concluded, she appeared inside, looking around the world she crafted. The murder mystery was quite graphic and dark, but she couldn't help but smile knowing that she made this world and poured every drop of passion into it.

She walked behind a dark alleyway and created another desk. She took a seat and began writing once more. "I've always wanted to make an action thriller about bank robberies." she stated, creating a new work right then and there.

She truly was a Supreme Architect.