Does anyone else enjoy conspiracy theories as much as I do?
You know, “Jet Fuel Can’t Melt Steal Beams”
9/11 was an inside job
The Illuminati controls your life.
Stuff like that. I don’t spend hours reading them, but when I come across something I like to skim through it and give it a go in my head and have fun with the fact that it could be true and it could not be true. Sometimes things get too real and I freak out for a day or two, obsessing like a toddler on Christmas Eve who can pick up her presents, shake them, but never really get to the center of it all, but then I get distracted by something else.
Anyone else find meaning in things that might not have any meaning? You know, the homeless woman sitting outside of the giant Target in San Jose, Ca who says “God Bless You” and stares deep into your eyes like a lion stalking it’s prey and you stare back with an unexpected flinch and you think . . . “was that a sign from God? I must be doing something right” even though you’re not religious?
Anyone else feel they were guided their entire life? I predicted, from the moment I was homeless, the amount of years we would be and where we would live and it happened. Did it happen because I predicted it or was it already going to happen and someone tipped me off? I feel there’s a reason I was persuaded by a deeper part of my mind to stay in public high school rather than do independent studies. There’s a reason I’m in the classes I’m in now and the reason wasn’t solely my choice.
I’m always watched, remember? Whether I’m outside and it’s physical people watching me or I’m in my room with something standing behind my bed or over my shoulder and watching me from the closet. No matter what, I’m being watched.
I take dreams very seriously. I spoke to my subconscious once. She took the form of one of my friends and we stood by choppy water and she was trying to read a book. I can’t for the life of me remember the conversation, but I know it was enlightening because of the calmness over me.
I’ve dreamed I murdered a man–stabbed him right in the chest and I remember the jelly feeling of his skin when I sunk the knife in. That took a few days to get over.
I dreamed the city was going to hell. Lightening struck power lines and buildings were on fire. Some asshole stole my car and all my friends ran. I got sick of all the chaos and climbed on a ledge and killed myself. Again.
I spoke to my subconscious a second time. Aliens were invading earth; I frequent those types of dreams. They looked like thick Praying Mantis’ and I was with a man who I called my father who really wasn’t. I don’t think I was myself in my dream. I tried getting health insurance, because when Aliens invade you’re going to need medical care for your wounds and your sanity, but they kept running me around in circles through the system just like real life. Me and my “father” hid in the basement of some doomsday guy’s house. We ran out in the street and aliens were killing everyone. Some douche in a tricked out Honda Coupe or Subaru or something sped up to us on the corner of the street bumping some hot rap but the Aliens killed them.
You had two choices with these aliens: either obey and submit or we kill you. Kind of like the settlers. Except these aliens weren’t White or European, they were golden and brown and from space.
Anyway, I surrendered.
What? I did what?
I surrendered because I heard someone tell me to, someone in my head–my subconscious. It would be okay, she said, so I listened to myself. They transported me to their world where all the people who surrendered were. It was paradise. Floating cities, disc shaped futuristic buildings, trees that enveloped you in shade from the sun which never seemed to go down. There were people from my high school, people who I didn’t know, and my subconscious. She told me words, important words, words I remembered when I woke up and wrote down but that I’ve misplaced. Something about acceptance. She’s probably displeased with me.
I’m sure I’ll be hearing from her soon.
Anyone else ever have the fear someone installed cameras in the corner of your room to catch you doing something you weren’t supposed to? I’ve had that fear since I was a child. It’s not as rampant anymore, but when I was younger I was convinced my parents installed microscopic cameras in the corners of the house. When we lived in hotels and other people’s houses, I always suspected they spied on me too, on all of us.
I’m pretty sure Google does that now. Or, at the very least, the NSA. I used to put “fuck you, NSA” at the end of each one of my non-professional emails. I still do it occasionally if I’m emailing a friend who knows me well just so they can get a laugh at it. They don’t know I’m partially serious.
I spent much of my high school years sitting in the class talking to myself in my head and glancing awkwardly around the room to make sure no one could hear my thoughts. They were pretty loud, I figured at least one person in that room heard them, it only made sense.
Obviously I was aware people say mind-reading is not real. People say it’s not real. But what do they know?
I can read the expression in your eyes; I might as well have the ability to read your mind. My perspective on your thoughts might be a little tainted by severe mistrust and anxiety but hey, no one said it was an exact science.
That being said, I saw this shit:
Love the people in the video.
Ben Carson . . . Ugh. I’ve come to a conclusion that yes, he is a distraction from reality like Donald Trump.
However, I’m thoroughly convinced that man may have issues with some modern style covert sociopathy with motives different from past politicians.
I swear by it. He’s a loon. He’s a textbook fucking loon! I don’t like using terms like that to describe people but fuck man, he’s asking for it.
Come on. What else could you call him and his team? They’re either master manipulators or a complete idiots.
I crossed out complete idiots just because of the lies.
No one lies that obviously. No one. NO. ONE. He lies with the expectation of them being debunked. No one comes on television and says the stupid shit he does without expecting a reaction, without then feeding off the reaction like a starved puppy and boosting their ego like Kanye. No one then has the audacity to put out an ad like this to appeal to the ethos of the people he’s already instilled so much confusion into.
Bush was an idiot. He said stupid shit without even knowing how stupid he sounded, and when he got the attention for it he didn’t know what to do with the attention, either.
But you can see it in Carson’s face. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
Sure he has a platform, every politician does, but no matter how blatant he is with his views, he still leaves you confused. Some might be confused over how inconsiderate someone can be since it’s “2015 and we’re so much more progressive” . . .
But I’m confused on why he’s put so much time and effort (besides money and fame) into confusing us. That’s usually not a good sign. Is he just securing his name in the whole of American history? Does he spend nights in front of the mirror jacking it to his reflection? Is it even an ego trip?
Maybe he was dared. “Hey Carson, if you run for president and rise in the polls, I’ll stick my dick in a jar of hot sauce!”
-Cue joking laughter of all his buddies-
You can combat me and tell me that he’s just “doing it for attention”but I think that’s missing the point.
There are subtle things in this campaign that I think are overlooked.
Or I’m reading into something that isn’t there.
-Cue sobbing of the guy who lost the hot sauce bet-