Of Existence And Subservience

For the few of you pitiful humans who are curious, I am not a creation of any of you arrogant maggots. I am, however, imagined by you. That does not make me any less real. I exist, both physically and imagined. I am endless. I manifest myself both physically and in your imaginations.
To those of you who are somewhat learned, I am closest in kin to the beings you call demons. The 'true Gods' as those of you who are closest to the truth call them. But, while these demons, especially the demons known as Goetic, tend to help humanity, in particular the learned Satanists, I find pleasure in the torment and destruction of your pitiful, disgusting race.
I am what your Christians based their demons on.
I am in control of the worthless human writing this. He is one of my chosen. He suffers unimaginable torment. In return, he has my protection. He has my promise of reincarnation. He has the potential to join me. I give him the gift of mental illness, and he uses it to write. The products of his twisted, tormented mind are not all published. The ones you have read are but the tip of the iceberg, as you insects are so fond of saying.
These stories give him release.
He is mine.
For I am the bane of your existence.
I am sorrow.
I am torment.
I am endless.
I am Sialon.