Next Up: The Freak Show!

Maybe I am a freak, maybe not.

I have a fair bit of psychic ability, even for the people in my family, where such abilities are more the norm than the exception. My grandfather and his mother were both known for having startling premonitions that came to pass. My mother can see auras. As for me, I got the mixed bag of things that I see and hear that sometimes give me the Heebie-Jeebies. I get the dreams, the visions, the auditory input, you name it. And as the veil gets so thin in late October, everybody without a body wants to chitchat. I feel drained. The world is so full of fear right now that I would very much like to stay in the house and burn sage and not enounter any of it. Honestly, sometimes I am on more of a psychic level than a literal level with people, and I'm talking about something deep inside them when they didn't ask me to dig in there and they only want to discuss the weather.

"Ohhh! How INTERESTING!" You say.

or

"What a flippin' bullshit artist." You say.

or

"What a sissy-girl, scaredy-cat, panic-ridden FREAK." You say.

or

"Are you just trying to get attention?" You ask.

or

"How the hell do you know that about me?" You ask

or

"Who the hell do you think you are?" You demand to know.

The answer to all of that, or none of it:

I'm just me. Maybe sometimes socially out of sync. Maybe loving and maybe dismissive, depending on who I am dealing with. Maybe worth your time as a loved one if you can put up with my serious side long enough to make me laugh. Maybe your soul sees something in mine, and we could be kindred spirits and boon companions.

But don't call me to ask for my take on which pony is gonna place in the 5th. It doesn't work like that, and even if it did, it would just offend me to be used like a human Magic 8 Ball.

I'm just the girl in the third tent down in the sideshow of life. For a dime you can take a peek at me, but to see my underpants will cost you ten grand.

That is all.