When you're in a position like mine, there is never time to be surprised. Even when each day, I meet new THINGS on my skin to crawl around and smile with my gums, I think thats all there is too see. Of course, I'm wrong. When god ran out of THINGS from this world, he sent some from the others to pick up the slack.
I'm being punished, you know. For my time working with the collectors. They stuck me in their little pickle jar, and now all my friends, or the ones who were to be called my friends, call me crazy and watch me without pity. They can't see I'mstillhumanstillhumanstillhumanstillhuman like them they cannot see they are blinded by the gnats.
They used to watch over me every day, making sure I didn't try to destroy the world I once strived so hard to protect. Then the containment breach sounded. The THINGS were let out of their broken jars, and my old brothers and friends fled from sight. I thought they had to bee back soon. But they never came back. All that was left was ME and the THINGS.
I could hear them creeping out there in the dripping pitch blackness, scraping and scratching against their binds. Some of their lands had been freed by the compromised site, but some had to struggle for years to reach me. Even now, there are still trying to skitter their way into my places.
First ones were the shadows. They're always with me. I can feel the flat, spindly legs crawling over my body now. All over and in over. They're what retaught me that there is no such thing as privacy, when THEY spin webs in the mind and fly them around like little cranial ziplines. THEY catch my thoughts like flies.
The ants were swarming over me. They rolled off the skin and folded it like nice blankets at the foot of the bed. My feet were scratched into powder and spread out to feed the babies. My eyes were taken, and they saw what I saw. Even in my sight, THEY saw it all and could make me see what they see I see what THEY want me to see all see.
Then, after taking my privacy, they took my senses. From the cicadas, I lost my ears. The parasites took my taste, hanging onto the ends of my gums like an artificial tongue, flapping in the wind but not tasting a THING. Bones are all around me now, making a little nest for all my private friends. It's so cozy in me, but I am never alone. My thoughts are snapped up and sent through the hive that has come to be what used to be me.
I used to pray to a god, any god, to forgive me and let my existence end. That was an exercise in futility. Because I know there is no GOD out there, no GOD for these THINGS that can be found outside the little room we all share together in harmony.
I am god.
This document was recovered from the containment chamber of SCP-027, following Mass Containment Breach Incident-006. Approximately ███ insectoid anomalies were also recovered within the chamber. The note itself appeared to be composed from insect cocoon material, and written with fecal matter. Although it is believed that SCP-027 still occupies the chamber, it has not been sighted by any personnel following its return to Foundation custody.