Scooby Doo was right: monsters are just people in disguise. I wish I had Scooby’s sniffing-out-the-bad-guys skills, especially back when I was more interested in the prize in my cereal box and watching cartoon capers. I had to learn the hard way, through disappointment, betrayal, anger, and conflict. Now it seems every stranger is a monster in a mask, waiting to see if I’ll act in the manner they find most suitable. Many strangers control my life as a matter of fact; I am learning more and more each day about just how deep the monster rabbit hole goes…


Truth is, I don’t know the truth. Not THE TRUTH. But I do know that vital information has been purposely kept from me, twisted into propaganda to control me, and along with millions of others I am not actually free. The more I dig the more I see; elitist groups pulling the puppet strings, banks and corporations determining human values, manufactured vitriol spilling into the streets, and people turning into sheep-zombies perpetuating the lies. Everything I thought I knew is in question, and the more I research the more I unlearn. Sure, it’s frightening to go about my day and make decisions knowing that I ultimately don’t know a damn thing. However, I’d rather not know then take action based upon someone else’s agenda disguised as my own.


How can I reconcile a need to authentically connect with others with an understanding that I am a disposable person to most of the general public and elites? Must I continually offer up some sort of empathy to those I encounter, knowing that it may be perceived as weakness and gullibility? When does compassion lead to becoming a fool? My expectations have become nearly impossible to meet, it seems. I expect empathy when empathy is given; I expect respect when respect is given; I expect acceptance when acceptance is given – you get the idea. It is noble to give just to experience the act of giving; however, how does one know when it’s time to quit being used? What if others expect me to give at a level that they are not? These questions compound my pursuit of happiness and truth and all I know at this point is that I have to keep being kind, even when it seems impossible. Simultaneously I believe that we are all connected and that most of us are blind sheep. Perhaps being kind will alter the social ether somehow, revealing monsters for who they really are before it’s too late for the Mystery Machine to save us.


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