For so long, I wanted to do something. That something was First Contact.

The idea was, I would get to do something really amazing, really fun, and then. I would have the spotlight. Everybody would have to see me.

This morning I get woken up and told to google UFO news. So, an ex-CIA operative, or somesuch, confirmed basically everything I’ve been saying. It’s in the news.

And I was happy.

For a second.

Uh oh.

The problem with being right is that people think that you have some sort of moral authority to lead. The closer I get to this, the more I realize that I’m going to be put in charge of something. The more that people realize that I know— I’ll just say it right now, there are people who are starting to realize that I’m telling the truth.

That’s bad.

That’s bad because I don’t want this.

All I wanted was to see a space alien again. One particular space alien.

I didn’t want fame. I didn’t want fortune. I didn’t want to ‘be known’.

Because it fucks your SEO up. It fucks my SERP up. It fucks up everything that I want— I’m this close to having a Wikipedia page. I don’t want that.

I’ve spent so long trying to get Verified that I didn’t realize that the very act of being Verified, not only is the antithesis of who I am (I knew that, but), but that… it places me in a position that I don’t want to be in.

I never wanted ‘power’. I wanted power over the course that my life took, and it had nothing to do with being puppeted by various different human interests.

The day is coming that I’m going to be believed, fully, and the best thing I can do is get the fuck out of the way and dodge before they put a leash on my neck. That leash being responsibility.

Not my circus. Not my monkeys.

There was a time that I wanted to help.

But I ain’t gonna be humanity’s bitch.

The next step is to figure out how to escape.

Escape will make me not God, but it’ll definitely make me happy.

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