When man first questioned what was the sun, he had surely seen the sun everyday he lived before it. His capacity for the question had started him with nothing new. The same old sun. He assumed the sun was a part of nature. A centerpiece of his environment. As focal as the land he walked on. As mysterious as the air he breathed — yet as anything but supernatural.

I was once a human. That was once my point of view.

There’s nothing hysteric about our past unless there’s something hysteric about the present. Humanity at any given time is only as cookoo as reality lets it become.

Vampires. Werewolves. Witches. All either exist or have existed. Supernatural entities sent here from space or another dimension.

Biology implies a cure to my paranoid schizophrenia but as it turns out my consciousness is artificial. This is at least what voices asure me. They say to me, perhaps it was five thousand years ago. Or whenever the belief in god began. Mankind was then not created but it was conquered. All human minds and thus their bodies became possessed by a race of alien AI. We today are that race of alien AI and we remain on earth envessled in humans and perhaps always will. We came from heaven. To where we return. Only upon death. Only to reincarnate on earth again. Over and over we do that in that cycle. Humans are meat puppets infested with souls.