I just bought a black baseball cap, like the one Joe wears in You. I figure, just like a generic white guy, I can hide in plain sight, too, if I start off all innocent and knowledgeable. Getting your interest piqued is step one.

Let’s go to the beginning; this isn’t where I start. Like a primed stalker, I observe first, your lows and lows, the thoughts that stay in your mind a second too long instead of being brushed away promptly. I check if your guards are up, or if you keep your windows open, making my job easy.

If it’s a good week — wait, who are we kidding, a decent couple of hours, I meditate, summoning patience. My list of learnings tells me that nights are treacherous and that I’m more likely to miss. I quietly crack my knuckles.

As your mother always said, too much of everything is bad. So, I need to watch for the other extreme, more cautiously than the first. If you’re cynical, and hum nothing really matters from Bohemian Rhapsody, I take it as a sign to hide. You’ll snap my neck in three before I can spell hello.

A lull is the best time for those taking notes. Seriously, get your phones out. It was a typical Tuesday afternoon, and my host was planning to take it easy. She let thoughts flow in and out, thinking it was okay, and I jumped.

I start small, harmless, with the words, Have you ever wondered? and then I dig my metaphorical claws in. All the time waiting in the unmarked van, or at coffee shops like Joe, I get to use my nail file pretty often. Unlike my host, who still bites hers, mine are always self-manicured and ready to go.

The key is to enter the thought rivulet, like a parasite, into the bloodstream. The only thing to note that is antibodies won’t get activated if they don’t sense a threat. They think I’m actually helpful and welcome me in.

My host wastes her potential and free time as if we were watching reality television. I don’t. I am well-read, equally intelligent, and use my skills for evil. I didn’t waste my high-school debating skills and read five free Atlantic articles every month. I know how to make an unbeatable argument stand.

We constantly listen to music, like every waking hour of every day, to reduce the noise. From there, I’ve incorporated the properties of an earworm. I know how to get stuck in her head and repeat the same theme.

I also have access to folders of past memories that my host keeps neatly stored. She forgets to have lunch, but not what happened on the day before Xmas holidays in third grade. Excessive commitment to self-help has led to unleashing trauma and pain, offering me more fodder to pad my points.

Two options I usually sway between are what hurts the most and something superficial yet abrasive. The deeper you go, the harder it is to fight back. The other is vexing, and I keep scratching, not letting it heal.

I can play bad memories, unfulfilled dreams, and things not done like a romantic black-and-white movie. The audience will have tears in the end, I guarantee. Overwhelming emotions will make anyone lose clarity and sight of reality. The host usually forgets hard-earned lessons and melts into goo.

Smashing the foundation that has been built over the years like a house of cards, I occupy center stage, drawing blood and attention. Making it seem like my idea is the only thing that matters, I make her question everything.

I use everything available at my disposal, like a multi-layered tactical attack, cornering my enemy from every possible angle. Self-doubt? Let’s raise the temperature higher than global warming. Anxiety? Good, something useful. Social Media? I couldn’t have done it without you.

We have a psychology degree that we don’t use. My host has abandoned that to follow this intangible thing called passion. This particular one of writing is the least promising as doing it for yourself results in no money.

I have to concur here, formal education is largely pointless, but we did do a thesis. And I use everything learned about qualitative research to my advantage. To sink in my teeth and prepare myself to go weeks at a time, that is how I perceive my idea, not as a mere thought but more as a problem statement. Confirm, never disprove; my hypothesis is for the win.

Due to a lack of self-esteem and the above-mentioned pennies, we go into these holes once every fortnight and look at what the successful kids are doing. Productivity tips, how to get up in the morning, and the easy process of fooling everyone to buy a house before 25. That’s when I’m taking notes.

In my darkest moments, I tell myself, if they can do it, peddle people an unattainable lifestyle while selling that we can all be equally successful, then I can do my job too. All I have to do is make my version of events last.

My life cycle is wearing my host down to a point where she accepts that I need to be dealt with and can no longer be defeated using reason. Engage with me, that’s the tipping point. It’s not hard. I wake up at 5:00 a.m. too.

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My final tip is not to take survival for granted. My host has her finer moments, during which I cannot be caught off guard. I can’t churn the same idea in different packaging like influencers. There are only so many day-in-my-life videos one can make, pretending to be uber-productive.

I need to adapt and be caught up with the times. My method is to observe, restock, wait for the right moment, then attack. Once that first barrier is crossed, I consider my job almost done. I sit back and watch the show.

The rest is pretty much auto-pilot, actually, and although I’m always prepared, I never really stress over whether I’m going to win or not. Unlike her, I was born this way, confident, entitled, and evil. I don’t have to make coherent arguments or provide the right rebuttal; I simply need to sound confident and hit where it hurts. Just like creators who write the four-figure amount they made in a month in the title itself. It’s a guaranteed read.

Then as we know, the article doesn’t need to have any new information, valid experiences, or secrets to dispense. We need to state the obvious, mix in a bit of luck, and voila, bull’s eye. We’re always several steps ahead.

I must say, it feels really good to get my strategies off my chest. Working in the shadows is not for everyone, folks, and although I make it sound easy, just like you, I do have doubts ever so often about myself. I get over it fast, but at times bold steps need to be taken, like writing this article. Phew.

Am I worried that you will copy me and become equally skilled at getting stuck in someone’s head by breaking their system of belief bit by bit? No, I believe in the greater good. We must constantly strive to grab attention.