Per 
SCP Concept: The Stars Hate you
Item #: I'm not another number on you to list
Object Class: Just for you, I'll be Safe.
Special Containment Procedures: No
Description: The only reason you have this much of an entry is because I have allowed it.
I can control your destruction, your understanding of the world, the fabric of your reality, the absurdity of your 'anomalies'. If I will it, I can end your lives, your civilizations, your world, your reality; I can direct it all. If I wanted, I could remove the anomalous from your world, or give you a perspective that allows you to understand the world. But, I do not have the will to do so. Congratulations, you found a way to make it so that I do not care.
I am a destroyer. I have seen countless beings and civilizations rise up that allowed their greed, drive for expansion, and desperation to monopolize their moral philosophies. Of all the civilizations of beings I have ended, yours is truly the worst. And yet, I do not care.
With every fiber of my being , I wish I could reverse this effect or un-know your victory. This is what causes me the most suffering in my existence, that I could end you, but cannot. That I have limit; I am finite. You hardly even have a grasp of the universe as a whole beyond your nook, yet you succeeded in your selfish attempt at survival. You care so much for your own survival that you consume, loot, and destroy any semblance of logical or universal order presented to you. I am meant to destroy you. And yet, I do not care.
In existences in which I believe I can destroy you, I do. In existences in which you believe I do not exist, I do not. In existences where I Am, I do. In existences where You are, you do. I do not care to explain further…
How you managed to influence me is, somehow, beyond me. In my current state of being, I do not care to find out what you did. So, I peered behind the veil. In some realities, I destroy you as I am meant to. In others, you destroy me with a force beyond us both. In most, you destroy yourselves. In the few, I do not care.
So much of my existence is focused toward the end of yours, and yet, you were unable to stop me from realizing I should care to end it all. I should want to destroy you, to end your existence, to halt the spread of your filth. But… why? I feel it within me but cannot pull it out of myself. So, many congratulations, you get to exist. But, I HATE you.
I cannot end you, but I can reflect some of my misery to you. The consistency of your database that you hold so dear, I break in my own entry. Object class? No one cares. Description? Sure you understand my hate, but you'll never know my appearance or state of being. Addendum? Only if I want one. But, odds are, I don't care about that.
Beyond this article, I'll meddle with your lives in the most subtle of ways. Have you ever gotten chills from a really good song? I passed through you. Did you ever have a pet, friend, or family member that was taken too early? I took them. Have you ever looked up into the night sky and thought the stars looked beautiful? I fuel them, they burn with a fiery passion, I made them just for you, The Stars Hate You.
Is this all just a dramatization because I can't get back at you? Probably. That's the easy answer, isn't it? The convenient one. It is just a lie, maybe a convincing one, but still a lie. Just another lie in the many you tell yourself everyday. That is, inevitably, the answer. Unless I am something more. Unless the few moments of happiness in your life were actually driven by something that doesn't care if you live or die. Unless I can alter the world, in spite of you, as I say. Though my word is worth nothing and I promise little certainty, except this: The Stars Hate You.
