[ WP ] You are always wrong . Despite all odds , you 've found a way to use your power for good .

The first time that I knew I was famous was when I saw that I had my own Wikipedia page. 
 
 It did n't have my name or my face, because I'm not stupid enough to allow strangers on the internet to have access to my personal data. However, my online name ( HydeAndSeek42 ) and most of my post history had gotten it's own page. I had known it was coming- it was only a matter of time before people started paying attention to my predictions. 
 
 When I was little, I found that nothing went my way. Ever. While this is the mentality of every two year old, for me it was reality. If I wanted something, it would find a way to become lost. In preschool, I bragged about how I would never get lost in a supermarket, and three days later I was left in a Walmart for three days. By the time I was ten, I was considered to be the stupid kid, because I could never pass a test in school and was always making false claims. I dropped out by thirteen, and while I told myself my parents had my back, I was on the streets the moment I hit eighteen. 
 
 That's where one of my stories ends, and the other begins. 
 
 I had a hypothesis, of course: *I am always wrong*. With that in mind, I decided I would start small. I bought a composition notebook and a pack of pens and on the first page, wrote a small statement. 
 
 `` I wo n't ever get a job.'' 
 
 By the end of the day, I was employed at a fast food restaurant and I knew what I had to do. 
 
 The wishes started small, but then I realized I did n't have to write them down. I could change people's lives simply by talking to them and saying the exact opposite of what I wanted, and that thing would then occur. It made me look like an asshole, but I did n't really care. I stopped caring what people thought of me a long time before then. 
 
 I sit silently, watching the lights of Los Angeles twinkle beneath the penthouse apartment I told someone that I would never win. I smirk, sipping champagne from a crystal flute. 
 
 It takes practice not to say anything positive- otherwise, bad things will happen. However, I'm a naturally cynical person. This lifestyle comes naturally to me. My blog got started a few years ago and is now attaining millions of hits a day as I openly predict war, the end of civilization, and rave about how the President is going to kill us all. Most follow me for my obvious maniacal ranting. I do n't think any of them know that it's just me standing between my words being empty and those events actually occurring. 
 
 `` Sir.'' 
 
 `` Will?'' I say, without looking back. 
 
 `` No, it's Jack.'' My butler says with a chuckle. Will is my father's name. 
 
 `` What is it?'' I turn to face him. 
 
 `` There's been a terrorist attack in Europe. They say the culprits have already escaped.'' 
 
 Without speaking, I walk back into my house, following the patterns of tiles on the floor into a large room paneled with televisions. Each one is playing scenes from the attack, each anchor mouthing silently. 
 
 I smile. 
 
 `` They'll never find him.'' 
 
 My words echo, and I feel suddenly cold as the windows on the sides of the room fly open and then shut. I wait. 
 
 The images on the screens change. The culprits are being forced into the back of a police van. 
 
 `` Jack, my laptop is n't behind me, is it?'' I say. Turning, I pull my laptop off the desk behind me and open it. I allow Jack to type in my password ( I always put in the wrong one ) and open it to my blog. I title the post `` Terrorist Attack One: More are Coming.'' 
 
 `` Can I bring you anything?'' My butler says. I shake my head with a laugh, and allow the room to fade away as I begin to write another false prophecy.
