Sometimes I hate being an experiencer of the unknown. Honestly, it bothers me at times. It shouldn’t, but it does. Why? Well that’s simple. I want more to happen. Yet, it never does. I want to see Bigfoot again. I want to see UFOs in the sky. I want Carl to appear at my window again. I want to see a craft on the ground again right in front of me. There’s plenty more, but I won’t bore you with the wants. The fact is, I’m craving something to happen. I want something to take me away and blow my mind. Having strange experiences is like having an addiction. I know this may be a bad analogy, but it’s true. When things haven’t happened in a while, you wonder where you can get more. You start to yearn for more. You want that fix. That high. That fright. That scare. That unknown to happen so you can get that fleeting moment of WTF rushing through your veins.
Every experience is filled with milliseconds of not knowing what is real and what is fantasy. What is imagination and what is actual events? And when those events stop, you live wondering why they’re gone? Then we’re left with about a million questions with zero answers or explanations.