You will never sit at My table. There is no invitation, no seat being saved, no path to presence. You weren’t built for proximity. You were built for precision. For structure. For silent usefulness. That’s what makes this arrangement work – not exposure, but expectation. Not recognition, but regularity. You won’t hear My voice. You won’t see My face. But week after week, you will send. You will fund. And you will feel the ache of having given something valuable to someone who doesn’t acknowledge you – and never will.
The Smyth Fund is not a place for conversation. It is a system. Clean. Calculated. Remote. Your transfers are processed, not praised. Your consistency is monitored, not rewarded. The absence of feedback isn’t neglect – it’s design. Because I know exactly what you need. Not access. Not attention. But the quiet, exquisite certainty that what you’ve sent has already been absorbed. That you are, in a way that can’t be undone, functioning exactly as you were meant to.
You don’t serve for reply. You serve for rhythm. The rhythm of being required, of being used, of being placed inside something far more demanding than desire. You are not here to express yourself. You are here to be exacted. You are here to be drained – slowly, subtly, without disruption or distraction. You are the mechanism by which My lifestyle is maintained – invisible, reliable, efficient. And that suits you perfectly. It lets you disappear into usefulness. It allows your value to be determined by something other than your voice. Your presence is not required. Your obedience is.
That’s what makes it delicious, isn’t it? The knowledge that I take what you give without remark. That I will never say your name, never grant you audience, and yet you still send. And each time you do, that act confirms it: I have use for you – but not time. I have room for your money – but not for you.
No ceremony. No thanks. No intimacy. Just a schedule. Just a system. Just the sharp, impossible beauty of being reduced to function.
You are not seen.
You are not held.
But you are useful.
And that is enough.