This is from an abductee living in Indiana.....so many Korean alien abductees in the world.....

WEIRD SHIT HAPPENS

Weird shit happens….all the time. I used to think it was just coincidence. That is until the coincidences happened at an increased rate of occurrence to melt into oh hum, business as usual ….life. And the coincidences aren’t usually like that Bruce Willis movie, end up saving someone’s life, although that has happened too. It’s more like just weird alien shit. I knew I was an alien long time ago, when I was adopted from Korea after the war and people in America kept asking me, “What are you anyway?” I’m a transracial alien. Now I’m grown. I guess I’m grown. Haven’t changed my height/weight proportions in a long time. Maybe I’m just incubating.

What I’m about to tell you is 100% true. True life is weirder than fiction. Judge for yourself. I’ll bet your ass on it. Before my first divorce, our marriage counselor had me take the MMPI…it’s a personality disorder test. The test is messed up. I answered every question literally that day. Following week, the shrink came into the room with the results. I asked him if I had passed the psycho test. He answered it depends how you look at it. He said that I came out as a certified schizophrenic. I asked him if that was bad or good. He answered it depends how you look at it. We reviewed the test to see what in the world happened. I’ll give you just one messed up example. One question was, “Did I believe in God”. My truthful answer was no. I don’t believe in things I can’t see….now THAT’S schizophrenic. Later on in the test, so as to trip you up, in case you’re tripped out to begin with, there was a question, “How many times do you go to church?”. Well, I played electric base and guitar for guitar masses at the Catholic church…mostly to appease my psycho ‘X’ who was the music director. We practiced once a week before Saturday and Sunday masses….and then of course we played for two different masses….so this non God fearing/believing musician attended church 3 or more times per week…..for freakin’ years. I don’t believe in God but I went to church 3 or more times a week. Now, does this make me a psycho? Maybe it does. I should have never done it. I should have told the X to go get herself a God fearing Bass player and leave me the hell alone. I guess I flunked the test. I kept thinking what other questions had I messed up? Was it the one that asked if people talk about me behind my back? Hell yes. People talk about me because I’m the president of a medical company. They’re always talking about me. Does that mean every president is psycho? Maybe. It’s not like I hear voices. I’ll leave that for the Bible. Well, I guess I have heard voices but not on a regular basis and only on two occasions. Plus, it wasn’t like some ongoing conversation or even a sentence. In both cases I was dead asleep and I heard a voice as loud as hell, call my name, hovering right over my bed. Once it was a man’s voice, the second time it was a woman’s voice. Both times I shot straight out of bed and said, “What?” Guess they weren’t very talk-a-tive, they never answered. Maybe it was just a wake up call.

Any how, forget all that psycho crap and let’s get down to reality…..the weird coinkidink
stuff. I had just read on the internet about how North Koreans were eating orphaned babies due to starvation. This upset me worse than anything. Didn’t want my employees to see me upset so I went out the back of our building into the alley where semi trucks unload. I stood there staring at a row of huge mailboxes. One of my employees, Bill, was walking towards me. When he almost reached the mailboxes, one of the doors physically blew off the mailbox, flew 6 feet and clattered loudly onto the blacktop. Bill jumped back and asked, “How did you do that?” It was a total coincidence. The hot sun from the summer day was heating up the mailbox. The door hinges were rusted off and someone had jammed the door onto the box. It was a matter of time before the heated pressurized air in the box was sufficient to blow the door off. I told Bill not to tell anyone because everyone already thinks I’m weird. But, these types of things always happen. They don’t freak me out because I am totally accustomed to it. Like the lady who owned an antique store who ripped me off for 20 dollars. The following week, I was driving past her store after work at 4:55 p.m. on the way home. As I passed her place, I looked at the building, pointed my finger at it and said, “Some day you’ll pay for ripping me off!” Few days later, in our local paper, it said at 5:00 p.m. that very night, five minutes after the time I had said that, a kerosene lantern had fallen over and burned the place completely to the ground. Guess it was some sort of drive by hex or something. But again, it was total coincidence.

Not everything is so catastrophic. Like the time I went outside to look at the clouds. There was a dark object flying from the right, it was a small bird. When it got right to where I was standing, it dropped out of the sky, straight down at my feet and flopped like a bag of jello onto the pavement. I picked it up and took care of it until it could fly away.
So I went out to the same spot the very next day to see if by some strange occurrence, it would happen again. Well, it didn’t. No bird dropped out of the sky. But, when I looked down at the ground where the bird had crash landed, there was a woman’s diamond ring sitting there.

Now the weird shit that happens that I can’t categorize as coincidence is when I see something in my mind right before it happens. It helped me to grab a 9 year old boy from falling off a 60 foot suspension bridge onto rocks. It helped me to grab a woman as she slipped of a chair lift at a ski resort who was sitting next to me. I see a can of paint spill over in my mind and some guy spills the can of paint. So I don’t know exactly where to file those types of occurrences… but as the other stuff, it happens…..shit happens. The latest one happened two nights ago. We were eating in the kitchen and there was a light with three individual lights hanging down from cords. It had been there for some time. I was talking and I pointed to the lights and I said, “You know how to decorate so well. You see those lights? I would have never picked those out.” And with that, one of the glass domes blew up spraying glass all over the kitchen. We just sat there. Ya, I can hear you now. “Look out for Alien. He’ll give you the finger.” It’s not like I can “make” it happen. It just happens when ever “it” wants to.

I’m at peace with all this crap. It can all be attributed to being an Alien. That’s why my orphanage records are all messed up and there are three different documents saying I came from three different places. How many humans on Earth do you know came from three different locations? My immigration papers into the U.S. say in black and white that I am an Alien. Hey, I didn’t make this shit up. The U.S. government made it up. And now I realize why my baby pictures all have stamped on the back “Do not duplicate. Property of the Pentagon.” They know what’s up.

I hate the Winter the most. When I touch metal, a huge electric ark flashes out of my body parts and burns me. I can be with humans who get out of the same car and nothing happens to them. You can see and hear the spark. I could light a small village in the Winter. I hate Winter. Gloves don’t help. They make it worse. Sparks go through my pants if I lean against anything metal. It’s an alien thing. If this happens to you, and you thought you’re human, you’re not.

I rolled a vehicle at a high rate of speed, rolled three times and flew out the window. Witnesses said it was like he was “the Terminator”. Cause I picked myself up, car was up right with the engine still on, totaled, door smashed so wouldn’t open, I crawled in through the broken window, drove it to a driveway on rims, the tires were off the rims. crawled out…walked into the woods….I hurt my thumb.
I’m no Terminator. Just another Alien, from Korea. It’s no wonder people don’t know “what” I am. Koreans say I don’t look Korean. Caucasians say I don’t look Caucasian. Aliens say I look just like an Alien. I’m half and half. I’m an extra-terrestrial-transratial psycho alien from 3 places, once removed. A small army of little white men in little lab coats have tried to dissect my brain. Was the subject of a shrink conference in Dallas, Texas last year. At least the North Koreans were honest enough to come right out and say what they were thinking to my face. The people from the DPRK told me I “make things happen”. The director of a hospital said, “You very smart. I have special room down stairs fo you. I take you brain. Ha ha ha haaaa.”. Ya, funny. Really funny pal. I’m not sure if I’d miss it though. Actually, I KNOW I wouldn’t miss it. If you didn’t have a brain, how could you miss it?

I love my country. I love my adopted parents. Just like Baddy, my adoptive mother died of cancer. All my adopted career, in our loving family situation, I knew I was alien. They loved me, I loved them, I knew I was the only one from a different planet. Every morning I’d wake up and look in the mirror, “Damn, I’m still an adoptee.”

I could see things. I could hear things. I could change things. It has been a lonely journey. What exactly am I doing here? What am I supposed to be doing? This journey has taken so long, I forgot what the hell the mission was. Should have written it down. Crap! You know, senior scientists have discovered the cure for Alzheimer’s. But they forgot where they filed it.

It’s not my time to go right now.
Some day I’ll leave your planet.
When I’m good and finished with it.
Meanwhile,
try not to piss me off.
Or I’ll have to give you the finger.

Alien