Why me? It seems I’ve been asking myself this question my whole life. I see things others do not, sense things other do not. Why? I remember the morning of 9/11, waking up to the news. A chill ran over me, and I knew something wasn’t adding up. Within days I could see it clearly. Before the “decider” put his smug little face on the tube and delivered his “you’re either with us, or against us” speech, I knew that my government was behind this somehow. This atrocity was not perpetrated by Muslims from a cave in Afghanistan, and I began to question the official narrative. My family resisted, my girlfriend resisted, I was met with anger, bewilderment, and pain from everyone I spoke to about it.