So, recently, I was interviewed by Gene Park, for a piece in the Washington Post. I keep mentioning this because it’s the coolest thing ever and it made me feel really good.
Upon hearing that this was happening, it was suggested to me by certain people in my real life that I should prepare for some sort of further contact with other journalists. As in, the story would draw them.
There is a problem.
I think I just woke up.
Realizing that you’re smart
For the totality of my life, I have deferred to other people’s judgement. They said they had my best interests in mind; so I waited, and I saw if they did. Most were fucking stupid. A lot of them definitely did not even give a single shit about me, but the end result is the vast majority of human beings have wasted my fucking time.
So, as I neared age 40, I started to think for myself.
There is a problem.
I have spent my entire life thinking that I was crazy. Every day, Congresspeople talk about even crazier bullshit that is apparently true. And I loathe these people.
I loathe these people.
What’s going on?
This is not the destination.
In my everyday life, I hate people. I hate Americans. I look at people with disgust and contempt, because that’s all they really have for me. They don’t even treat me like a person— at the very least I treat them like someone who could choose to be better, but just is choosing not to be. They don’t even treat me like a person. They treat me worse than furniture.
And that’s . . . when a thought started to creep in.
I’ve raised millions of dollars for Internet strangers. I saw little to nothing back for it, not even friendship (which was my aim).
I’ve done all the kind things I can for people, and I’ve seen very little back my way, including— again, my aim— friendship.
I look at the resources I’m about to claim based upon just being loved by the space aliens, all this power, and I just realized something.
I don’t even like you, man.
What’s been going on in the backgroud
So, for my entire life, I’ve known this to be true. I’ve foiled every single attempt of human beings to meddle with my mind. And I’ve come to a solid conclusion.
I don’t… trust you.
I don’t want to be near you.
I don’t want to be around you.
I want to mock you, certainly. I want to put things on your Internet, because I like doing that. That gives me pleasure.
But I don’t want to be a part of this.
In the background, I’ve been told by one person in particular that everything I was doing— Verification, trying to convince people of this, everything— was a fool’s errand. And though it was the only way to get what I’ve always wanted, I don’t think that’s the only way anymore.
With the Washington Post thingy, I think it might be time to bow out. Especially if I actually get what my little heart has desired.
And I don’t think I’m going to tell anyone.
I don’t think I trust you enough to.
No, I know that I don’t.