Here’s what I’m talking about

So this is why I started writing about L. For almost eight years, I’ve shared things he’s said with other people and they’ve all said, “whoa, he’s… deeeeep.” The other day, he said he very much needed a gas mask. I explained why that wouldn’t be necessary, save them for people who need them. He said, “but, mom, you really can never be too prepared.”

I fret. I tell my bestie about it. Her response: “I’m going to build a safe room.”

Me: “Don’t you think it’s odd?”

Her: “I think he knows something we don’t.”

I stockpile canned goods.

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