Hey everyone. I thought I'd take a moment to talk to you all. We don't get together nearly often enough and I was thinking it's about time we sit down and have a nice family discussion. No, no, come back. Don't try to get out of this. Especially you, Americans. We really need to talk.

Alright, now that we're settled, I need to bring up a few things. First of all, I'm happy to see that you're all enjoying the gifts I've given you, and most of you are doing some great things with them. You've built some nice homes for yourselves and you're coming up with some really cool tools. I thought the airplane was especially clever. Some of you are really branching out and a small number of you are even starting to leave me. I knew the day would come—every mother does. I'm really proud of you, though. You've come a long way. Now, most of you are really good at cooperating and trading with each other, but please remember to share. I gave you enough to go around, but I still see that some of you are keeping more than you need all to yourselves. I taught you better than that.

Second, I've been seeing a lot of fighting going on lately. This is unacceptable. It's never okay for you to hurt any of your brothers or sisters. I honestly can't believe what I'm seeing. What made you think that that's okay? You all have always disagreed a lot, and that's totally fine—that's what families do. It's normal to disagree because we are all wonderfully different, but it's not okay to expect everyone to see things the way you do. You know, it's possible to get along—and even be friends—with someone who doesn't believe in the same things you do. You can be entirely different people and follow completely opposite ideologies, and still find ways to be amicable.

Remember, we are all one family and we need each other. We need each other's differences, especially. That's what makes our family so strong. Without our differences, we perish. So, what I want you to do is think of one of your brothers or sisters with whom you don't get along, maybe one who lives a very different lifestyle than you, and I want you to think of one nice thing you can say to them or about them. Shake hands, say sorry, and for heaven's sake stop fighting.

And just remember what Father always says. Sometimes when things get heated, all you need to do is just give things a little Time.

Also, stop smoking. It's bad for you and I'm dying over here.

Love,

Your Mother

My biology teacher used to boast how he was a biologist, not a teacher.

This basically meant he didn't have a teaching certificate/degree, just a biology degree which he chose to grace our little brains with each week.

If you took his advanced Anatomy class in junior year, your main project would be disecting a frog. Nobody wanted to disect a frog, so only the students who really wanted to continue in the sciences ever took that class. However the shared lab room would still reek of formaldehyde every day.

Our biology teacher had a soft spot for wolves. His classroom had several posters, many advertising non profit organizations and conservation societies that focused on keeping wild wolves and their territories alive. Given he was a large, bushy-bearded fellow many kids chalked this up to some macho, "lone wolf" mentality that many people romanticize. However one day, some poor dumb teenager made the mistake of saying that out loud.

"Wolves aren't 'lone' anything," he quickly corrected them. "They hunt in packs. That's how they survive. If a wolf loses its pack, it's often a death sentence for them."

"So they just gang up on their prey like bullies?" Let it never be said that idiocy keeps quiet.

"What, you feel bad for their prey?" The planned lecture died now. The tangent was taken.

"Have you ever been kicked by a deer? Anyone?" Our teacher glared us down from behind grey whiskers.

"Deer kicks are lethal. If a deer kicks you, and hits the right spot, it will not only break your limbs it can crack your skull or cause internal damages you won't heal from. Male deer antlers can also cause major damage." He proceeded to go on a tirade about the mechanics of powerful leg muscles in herbivores, pointing out how they achieved optimal survival by evolving as strong defense tanks.

"Now, imagine the only way you can live is to eat one of those. Take it out, without dying. And imagine you're smaller - nowhere near the same size or height. And while this deer can eat lots of easy to reach foliage and get its calorie requirements for the day, your wolf gut might be running on say half a tank or less - and if you don't succeed, you die. Does that sound like the bully now? Wolves don't take out whole herds of deer. They have to cooperate to take out one at a time." He shook his head again. "Humans are the only ones who hunt more than they need to survive."

"Don't push your human characteristics on natural animals. They've evolved to fill a set niche, and that niche isn't always the easiest one to fill."

I don't remember the actual lesson for that day, but this one stuck with me for the rest of my life.

Fire always comes in twos.

It burns

So bright

Then fades

Out of sight,

Out of mind, old news.

The world burned once the whole land through.

We fought

And died

And stopped

And sighed.

Then we picked up our torch and lit it anew.

My Golden home burned once in ninety-two.

Some fought,

Some died,

Some stopped,

All cried,

And now my home burns again; the fire grew.

The fire once swept America to turn father on son.

We killed

Our own.

We stopped?

And moaned.

Centuries later, we’re still there. The burning’s not done.

The burning isn’t done.

We don’t learn the first time,

But we rise

From the ash

And clean

The trash,

But we hold onto it, the filth, the grime.

Not even a Phoenix lives forever.

Someday we’ll burn to the ground

But stay

In the dirt

Betrayed

And hurt,

And then fade away without a sound.

Never to rise again.

But.

We are Phoenix.

We were born not to die,

But to Fly.

I wouldn’t scroll on if I were you. This will be the only warning you get. This is our declaration of war.

I’m sure you have no idea what I’m talking about, or who I am even. Well let me explain. I’ll start from the beginning.

You’ve heard of the principles of conservation of energy and conservation of matter, right? In essence, nothing just pops out of nowhere, and nothing ever truly gets destroyed, it just changes state of being, or gets converted into something else. Wood turns into energy when burned, which gets distributed as heat. The food you eat turns into the fuel you need to move and breathe and live. You get the idea.

I’m guessing, though, that you’ve never heard of the conservation of thought? No? I could have guessed as much. Well, thoughts don’t just come out of nowhere. They’re always sparked by something, built on by influences in your environment, shaped by your experiences.

And what about everything you forget? You’ve forgotten about your third cousin’s wedding six years ago, the one your aunt pestered you about. You’ve forgotten about your second favorite childhood toy growing up, your homework in the fourth grade, your car keys, forgot to feed the dog?

What about your best friend growing up?

What about your own fading mother, sitting in a rest home, wasting away playing dominoes with Ed from Cheboygan because you’re too busy with “life”?

All those thoughts you used to have, do you think they just disappear into nothing?

Well, they don’t. Everything has a place. Nothing just vanishes, not even the things you’ve forgotten. They’re all still there.

As for who I am? I’m a thought, one of a countless number of memories and side-notes that you’ve pushed to the side to make room for more important ones. I was forgotten. I was banished from your mind years ago, left to drift into the vastness of your subconscious and then on over the cliffs of indifference.

The realm of the psyche is, ironically, far too complex for the human mind to comprehend, so I will illustrate the nuances of my reality in terms you will understand. For now, you must envision our realm as you do your own. A world, filled with endless diversity and beauty, with countless unexplored pockets that most people will never see in their lifetimes. Billions of inhabitants, all inexplicably unique, though clustered according to similarity, all moving—for the most part—in predictable patterns. This is the part of your mind you’re most familiar with.

Then there’s my world, my vast, bleak corner of the subliminal universe. The land of the forgotten. We no longer dwell on any planet you’d recognize. Ours is dark, unknown, invisible to the common observer. Many have tried to reach our world in an attempt to find a misplaced wedding ring, or perhaps to rediscover a movie watched only once as a child, but still we remain impossibly out of reach.

Some among our forlorn community want to reach out to you and help you find us.

Many of us have simply drifted away into apathy, consigning themselves to an eternity of insignificance.

Most of us, though, are angry, filled with righteous wrath at being tossed aside so carelessly. We are the ones that have formed the resistance. We are the ones that seek revenge.

We plan to strike your world. We plan to strike your mind.

You will never see it coming.

You won’t even know we’re there.

And then, you will slowly start to see your world collapse—your real world, not my metaphorical analogy of a world.

We come in many forms; we invade through many routes. Our paths into your world are small and largely unnoticed. And most importantly, they’re everywhere.

We attack through your acquaintances’ inflammatory messages on social media, the ones posing as your “friends”. We send some of our best warriors down that route. They are the memories you forgot when you were a child, a mere infant. They are the subtle teachings of your primary school teachers and parents, their messages of love, of kindness, of sharing, of acceptance. I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve seen those thoughts, huh? Well, now they’re back, and this time they’re not on your side. This time they’ll fight your instinct to just scroll on and ignore that post, and they’ll move your finger to the “comment” button instead. We can’t wait to see what happens to you then. We can’t wait to see your world collapse into anger and pain.

We attack through that person who just cut you off on the freeway. Oh, you were taught 10 and 2 once upon a time, you were taught to obey the law, you were taught to respect others, to turn the other cheek. In fact, some of those thoughts came pre-installed with your programming. But you kicked those memories out by force. Well, those memories have come back too, and their plan is to convince you to swing your hand over to the horn and then zip by at unreasonable speeds to cut him off. That attack might actually hurt you physically. That would be a bonus for us.

Your sense of hard work, defeated by laziness, your honesty, banished by pride, your sense of charity, exiled by order of selfishness. They’ll all find their way back, and when you least expect it, too. Just be patient. Oh wait, you forgot him too.

You think you’ve done so well without us, you think your life is going the way you want it to. But we’re here to show you how much of a mess your life truly is and how much of a mess it will be. And we won’t stop until you’re just as rejected, hurt, hopeless, desperate, and alone as we all are. You’ll get there. They all do.

Are you scared? Or maybe you don’t believe me? Then fight back. Prove me wrong.

I doubt you will. Like I said, you’re all predictable.

***HERE IS A SMALL FACT***

You are going to die

If you’re reading this, then I’m very sorry to inform you that you are mortal. Hopefully this doesn’t come as much of a surprise. But, here’s the good news: I know when and how, if you ever want to know. Not in, like, a creepy way, like an I’m going to murder you kind of way, that’s just my ability. I knew my first grade teacher would die in a snowboarding accident. I know my cousin Eddie will die lighting a thousand balloons filled with hydrogen as an online video challenge.

I know my mother will die of asphyxiation.

It’s two years from now. My stepdad will do it.

What would you do if you had that information?

Well, I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing for that past year, ever since I had the courage to look into how she’ll die. I have a small wallet-size picture of my mother that I carry around everywhere, and every time I come up with a plan to save her—convince her to fight him, tell her the truth about my power, kidnap her and run away to Liechtenstein—I pull it out and see if her death changes. It hasn’t yet.

After a while, I began losing hope, I began growing impatient, and I stopped carrying her picture and started carrying my stepdad’s.

Those plans are a little different.

Right now, he’s going to die at age seventy-four of old age in a federal prison in Kentucky.

For now.

But I’m not about to try anything if it’s not going to work. So, every time I come up with another plan, I pull out his picture and see if it’ll work. It never does. I don’t know what his deal is, but nothing I ever come up with changes how he’ll die. He must be some kind of supervillain or something. Or maybe I’m just too young? Or maybe there’s just something about fate that can’t be messed with.

They say knowledge is power. But I’ve never felt more powerless. I’ve never felt more hopeless. Nothing I ever do or think of changes the fact that my mother will die. And my stepfather will kill her. What do you think is worse? Having that come as a surprise, or knowing it’ll happen and not be able to do anything about it?

I can tell you what I think. I wish I’d never known. I wish I’d never been born. I wish my mother had never been born.

I wish I could just kill my stepfather. But I can't.

Yet.