So today! I’m in this coffee shop, right?
I’m trying to keep my damn location off, WiFi off, no car, avoiding intersections like I’m in a fucking spy movie, and bam, in walks this dirty blonde Brit who’s probably tracking my phone.
I’m like, “Great, the crazies found me again.”
Then, door swings open, and who’s there?
Fucking Abraham Lincoln!
Or a wizard, I can’t tell, but with the most familiar boots I’ve seen since my last tequila bender in Mexico.
This dude’s dressed like he’s about to sign the Emancipation Proclamation but forgot his coat.
I’m sitting there, job hunting because no one wants a loud-mouthed RN who calls out bullshit, and here’s Abe, sipping his coffee outside in the cold, clearly here for me.
I’m like, “Coincidence my ass!” The Brit vanishes, and now I’m alone with Abe the Wizard.
My brain’s screaming, “Don’t be nuts, it’s just a coincidence!” but my gut’s like, “He’s here for you, babe.”
He comes back in, asks to sit near me like it’s totally normal to have coffee with Honest Abe.
I’m trying to make myself small, but I can’t help staring at this loony.
His hat? Not a topper, he says, but he’s definitely Abe Lincoln.
I end up talking to him because, you know, curiosity killed the cat, and I’m the cat. Please God protect me, because I am crazy and I talk with strange people!
He’s got clean hands, weird rings, and a smile that says, “I know you know.”
We dance around the elephant in the room—his bizarre get-up.
He starts spinning yarns about his boots and hat, and I’m like, “Dude, you look more like Gandalf than Lincoln.”
He laughs, agrees, and I swear I see a lizard tongue when he laughs.
So, what would you do?
I’ve got a wizard-lizard Abraham Lincoln on my hands.
Maybe it’s time to switch coffee shops… and buy a book on Lincoln.
#NoCoincidences
The 28-Stop Stalker Who Should’ve Stayed Away
“She must go back to her country!”
It had been a long, hard day on only five hours of sleep, filled with both good and bad energy. Hearing those words in such a state hit hard.
I wondered: How would you react if someone told you to step out of your comfort zone and immerse yourself among the less fortunate, to feel hunger, exposure, and vulnerability?
To see with professional eyes the mess socialism can do: an impossible cycle of corruption, bureaucracy, poverty, mental health struggles, addiction, and territorial control by gangs.
In such a system, people either lose themselves or give up entirely, with no real chance to rise above, only to be manipulated and controlled.
But back to the story.
He sat next to me for half of the bus ride — 28 stops. That’s a long ride. The bus was clean, well-kept. But from the start, my gut told me something was off.
Nobody takes 28 stops unless they’re desperate.
But he didn’t look hungry.
He looked like he was either a dealer, a cop, or part of some militant network.
He was smooth, well-spoken, and clearly educated. He was connected, with a network of four alert oriented individuals. Some were good, some bad, or just looking for food.
Americans say, “Wrong time, wrong place, wrong people.”
This time, it felt targeted.
No one takes more than half a bus route and sits beside you unless there’s intent.
You have to stay aware of your surroundings.
You don’t need to be a spy to see that. Coincidences don’t exist—never, ever.
Socialism is a utopia—a flawed one. You can’t help people by controlling them, taking away their freedom and life opportunities, only to control and guide them how you see fit.
Without real honest chances, you destroy them.
You break people down to build a society that only seeks to control them.
She sat on the floor on a small Muslim carpet, peacefully drinking her tea. She looked beautiful in her peace. Beauty is in people’s souls!
He followed me from the bus to the market, then to the office.
I’m sure he would’ve been better off staying in his own country than here!
He had a point, though: America is the land of freedom and honest opportunity.
But let me be clear—never follow me again. Never question me again. Never stay near me again.
Never! EVER!