I'm onto you, Thought Police. I'm onto you.

I have a problem and it's taking over my life. I. Love. Consipiracy. Theories. There, I said it. If there is a thread of doubt in a news story, I will pull at it until it unravels. Hell, I'll keep pulling that thread until there's nothing but a mess of yarn before me.

Google has become my faithful friend, my only friend. He brings me new theories during my sleepless nights, when the air is black and still and the only sound is the hush of my breath. I am a super sleuth in disguise. My ears prick at the mention of area 51 and the illuminati. Art Bell is my hero.

I have dreams where I am embroiled in a Paul Auster type mystery; I become Mr Black and Mr White on the hunt for Blue. Sometimes a security camera will follow me and I'll start imagining that I'm Winston Smith on the run from Big Brother. Say '2+2=5' and I'll break into a cold sweat.

I do hope there's a cure for my predicament. I'm getting tired of looking over my shoulder all the time. My neck hurts. I sometimes wonder if there is such a thing called 'Conspiracy Theories Anonymous.'

Perhaps I should google it...