Help! I Keep Astral Projecting To The Night Of My Conception
If you’re reading this, please, I desperately need your help. I am 100% freaking out and I have no idea how to undo what the universe has done to me. I’m not even sure how this happened in the first place, but as soon as I fall asleep each night, I begin astral projecting and my spirit travels all the way through time and space, back to the night my parents banged me into existence. Yes, banged—an unsavory term—but it’s the most accurate way to describe the horror that was that night. Please, someone. Help me make this stop.
I Probably Should’ve Read More About Astral Travel
I’ll be honest: I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into when I tried astral projection for the first time. The only thing close to an out-of-body experience I’d ever had was when my mother took me for my first pap smear.
However, given my current nightmarish situation, I would much rather get a thousand pap smears than see my inexperienced, wildly inebriated parents banging away like there’s no tomorrow. Yes, did I mention I was “an accident?” Just because he masturbated earlier doesn’t make it safe now, Mom! Why is this happening to me?!
This Is Probably All My Fault
Look, I know I shouldn’t have ventured into something I clearly didn’t understand. But the members of my holistic meditation group made it all seem so magical. One of them told me that they experienced spiritual enlightenment when astral projecting to the Sahara desert. Another has seen the rings of Saturn. One woman named Galexis even met her soulmate—a doctor!—during her cosmic voyage. She said that non-physical intercourse while floating among the stars should be the only form of intercourse. And I’m starting to believe her after weeks of watching my parents fuck in a dank motel room, night after excruciating night.
What did I do to deserve this?
Have I been condemned to forever watch my father ask my mother if anal is a form of contraception every night for the rest of my life? Or should I be learning something here? Like how sex education was apparently real bad in the ‘80s? Am I supposed to stop them from ever having me? I’m not suicidal, but this might be what I’m forced to do. My life is already ruined from this endless loop of astral travel, and I’ll definitely never be able to think of Honeybush as a plant ever again.