I wanted to listen to My Own Prison this morning (oh hush, I love it), but I couldn’t remember who sang it. I knew Scott Stapp, but I didn’t know the name of the band. I put my head down and thoughtthoughthought – and CREED popped into my head. I yanked my head up to scroll back up to get to the C’s, and saw that my cursor was hovering over My Own Prison. I’m not even lying.
Co-Workers think I’m a witch because I can ‘find’ people. If I start thinking about someone or talking about someone, I’ll see one of their packages or letters that day. 3 have happened at the same moment. I was listening to a friend speak about a co-worker’s ex-husband being a deadbeat dad and how they couldn’t locate him and yadayada – and guess who’s letter I happened to be holding with his new address? Yeah.
I was talking to a new gal about the psych department at the university and rambled on about my favorite professor – only to be holding her package when I looked down. These strange “happenings” make me jump inside – my guts are tied in knots for hours afterward.
Then my favorite – I was telling my friend at work about my mother’s diet pill addiction – and proceeded to toss a package (of pills) into the bin. I went to check on the package because of how it landed. It was mom’s. I damn near had a heart attack.
If I’m a witch, I’m getting fucked out of cool powers. Soooo, I don’t think so.
But I’m starting to believe in ghosts.