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I Am An Alien Hostage On This Planet

I didn’t sleep at all last night. The pain in my elbow caused by a hairline fracture I sustained yesterday, was a thorn in my ability to go unconscious, but there was a method to the pain’s madness. The pain kept me awake so I could focus on the reason why, over the past few years, I seem to have been hell-bent on subconsciously breaking, slicing and even amputating my body parts.I have come to the realization that I am an alien hostage on this planet, and my run of bad luck has simply been my attempt to free myself from this hell.

Recovered memories are now telling me 60 years ago, a highly secret, pre-Sputnik, American space exploration program launched sophisticated probes to various stars and planets to “bring some shit back so we can look at it.” I was some of the shit. I don’t know for sure from where I was kidnapped, but Canis Major rings some bells in my head.

When Eisenhower was elected president, he found out about the program and quickly shut it down as part of his stance on the Military Industrial Complex. I was given a new identity and shipped off to live with family in Texas, who had already adopted three other illegal aliens. As I grew, I can remember thinking how screwed up this planet was, and I really didn’t feel at home here. I was a round peg in a trapezoid hole.

My family had my tail removed (at government expense), and I also remember yearly rides in black helicopters.The pressure to fit in was intense, but my otherworldly weirdness would blow discordant notes against the heartbeat of the Earth. I think perhaps over the past few years, my alien instinct to swim upstream and go home has come to the forefront, causing great stress fighting the instincts programmed by the government. My equilibrium has been shifted so much that the simple act of walking has become hazardous to my health.

I have decided to take two steps. When the sun comes up. I plan to climb up on the roof of the house and paint–in bright, yellow paint–a sign reading, “Help, Hostage on Board.” in hopes that some UFO (of which there are plenty in Texas) might spot it and rescue me. After I finish the sign, I plan to write the Department of Homeland Security and turn myself in as an illegal alien an ansk to be deported.