I’d say it’s been fun but I’ve never suffered this bad by myself, ever.

These last 22 years have been utter Hell. Going forward, I’m trying my best not to go away mad. Inevitably I will do the right thing and ‘forget’ about all the terrible shit that Humanity has done to me, if only because it no longer would serve my purposes to constantly remember it. But I think it fair to me to acknowledge that, yes, for these past 2 decades, I’ve been run through the ringer. And that’s not okay.

But I’m going to let that go, because we’re— excuse me, I— am moving on to greener pastures.

There’s a lot I could say here.

I could tell you all about the things that I loved. I will probably always miss Arcadium; though, that, I am not so certain of. Not anymore. I am going to a better place. I think it will be better than Arcadium was.

Geocities was great. As a species you were genuinely at your greatest when you were writing about things that you loved. The outpourings of happiness and good, positive energy, onto the early Internet, were some of the most-pleasant times I’ve had in the Human World. That energy never really returned after it was destroyed. Hopefully, in the future, someone else can experience that love, like I did.

The Internet in general has been shit since Geocities died. For other people, Tumblr was their heaven. But even then— it was never the same. The Internet started out bad with BBSes and Usenet; was tolerable to good in-between that and the dot com bubble bursting; and it’s been getting worse, ever since. For someone who lived here, it’s been like watching my neighborhood grow badder and badder. I haven’t liked it.

In recent years I’ve pre-occupied myself with keeping myself sane. With entertaining myself. Sadly that is at its end because I have wasted so much time that I really am not going to be able to finish the books that I wanted to get done, in the time allotted. If I’m lucky, I’ll get one short book out, and then, you’re getting space aliens for Christmas.

It doesn’t really matter.

What brought me here.

It’s always been a possibility that I was schizophrenic. It’s why I didn’t really pursue this matter any further, for a lot of years. I was abducted by space aliens, and, even though I had family corroboration— they, too, had seen the aliens— I figured, either it’s hereditary mental illness, or they’re simply humoring me. Neither were possibilities I longed to investigate.

After I published my first book, I made contact with the space alien civilization, once more. For the past year and a half, I’ve been communicating with them. This, however, was not something I longed to report, either: I could still be crazy. Telling people, “I figured out how to telepathically communicate with invisible space aliens,” is not a wise decision, especially not in your fucked-up society God damn you people are cruel.

So I waited. I made preparations to return to the ship.

And then, I had an idea. What if I could show other people the space aliens?

And then I did. A few days ago, I got independent corroboration. That is to say, I showed someone else the space aliens, and they reported back what they looked like, independent of anything I had ever told them. I had, in fact, never told them what they looked like. And we both, at the same time, saw the same space alien person.

This has given me the confidence to say that, though I may have mental issues, and I may suffer from some variety of mental illness, what we saw is not a figment of my imagination. What I remember, is not a some delusion, nor hallucination, that I suffered alone.

The space aliens are real.

Knowing this, I have no logical, nor reasonable choice, but to pursue returning to the ship.

Going forward.

I’m not sure what to do in the realm of what to tell you. I could tell you that the U.S. Government is looking forward to reveal, publicly, all that they know about space aliens. I could tell you many things. I could even cite them. But you can just go on Google News, and search “UFOs”.

Something is going to happen. And this something is going to be good.

But what place I have in it, I do not know. And what place I should demand, or request, to have, I also do not know. For I see this as an opportunity to get famous; and I think that is vile. I think that I should work to serve the space aliens, as I have worked to serve human beings. I would, at the very least, be rewarded with love, unlike most encounters with human beings.

But I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I do know one thing.

It’s over for me here.

I am not leaving the Internet. Nor am I leaving social media. But I have accomplished everything that I could, alone, on here. And I’m not getting much more, if anything else.

I really wanted to get Verified on Twitter before I returned to the ship. I told myself that such a task was going to be solely for them; for my family. But, the reality is, there are many reasons. I wanted to win a bet with my late father. And so I shall; but not under my own power. And that is sad.

I’ve thought about not using the services that refused to Verify me, after I become famous again. But I don’t know. I don’t like holding grudges; and I don’t want to be this person that I have been, for so very long. I don’t want to ‘keep score’.

Time is running out for me to do things before their arrival. With or without me, they will reunite with human beings. And I hope that you will all be happy, together.

I am just not sure what place I should demand in this new system of interactions. I don’t want to step on anybody’s toes.

But perhaps this is the place that I belong.

Perhaps, instead of serving others, I should serve myself.