He Remembered Moments of Grace: 100% Completion Speed Run of the Last Two Years of Sociopathic Hell (and Happy Birthday to The Edge of Things)

So, hey again. It happened. After years of waiting, it happened. I am writing to you again, because despite the efforts of all the enemies of everything that is good and merry and sane in this world, the cyberattack that took The Edge of Things down has been driven off and we in fact have made massive gains during the counteroffensive. So it paid off, the two years of blood and tears and other body fluids combined with whatever the hell it is that Inceltrucks run with (children's blood I'm guessing), The Edge of Things dot Com is Back. With a vengeance.

A lot has happened and as usual, someone will say that I have confirmation bias or some other clever thing and I'll just point out politely that all of the disbelief that unbelievers believe are mostly ad hominems and we will never stop the rhetoric because that's what rhetoric is for unless you want to get blood in your hands.

Before we proceed, it has come to my attention that around these days, but four years ago, I made up the entirety of this blog/book (bloogk) and began posting for the amusement of myself and mostly a marketing friend who thinks it's funny that I am insane (they are also insane and criminally so). Since some of these posts are actual testimonies, let it be really clear: after five years, any trace of psychosis diagnostic has been obliterated: if anything, since reality has fallen apart for so many people since 2020, advancements in the mental health field have led to indicate that the reason most people in the entire globe are delusional are monetary issues, tied with status and other things... that often times, amazingly, can lead to traumatic events like, I don't know, a world-ending pandemic that we don't even know how come that we are still alive except that those who know are not really sure so we don't talk about the COVIDs anymore. Just think for a second how it felt to die of COVID at the beginning of it all ("don't they know, it's the end of the world..."). So effectively, if you had a traumatic event in your life, instead of psychosis you get "dissociative psychotic like symptoms" which can completely discredit you in case of emergency and is most likely the reason why I can at the very least get some treatment that actually makes me functional to the point that I finally fixed the site. Also, I have become, effectively, the psychologist of my psychologist, which made it hell, of course, so I don't see that psychologist anymore. That's the state of Berkeley's mental health. I'm still waiting for my check.

Thanks to the misdiagnosis of whoever in 2020, I had to endure 5 years of the "but you're psychotic" experience (tm), which is never fun, and I'm sincerely thinking that they hoped I'd end up killing myself. After all, it has been five years and if you even dare to tell me that I didn't told you so about the Brain Computer Interface, go fucking check this link: https://9to5mac.com/2025/08/04/apples-new-brain-controlled-iphone-ipad-tech-revealed-in-video/

Do you own an iPhone? Congratulations! Think for a second, it is most likely registering that thought or at the very least, Apple is getting ready for the hell that it will be to have to release this tech into the wild, although I'm not directly blaming them, I fucking do blame them for making it a NATIVE FEATURE OF THEIR iOS the fact that BCIs are IMPOSSIBLE to opt-out. With a little reverse engineering, you can just: 1) get the database for "brain" 2)read the thoughts in other ways, like, "Chatbot, please correlate blood flow, subvocalization, eye movement, heart beat, and any other thing that is on while you use an iPhone" and 3) make an app for the poor, lame and the blind that will help them, with the help of "A.I.", which is not BCI, read their intentions to say whatever and write it in your iPad... or torture them without their consent... or know their passwords. Or blackmail them. Or make them kill themselves. Or... etc, etc, etc. REMEMEBER: There is no legal precedent in the U.S., there is one in Chile, and there is some legislation around this, but legal precedent? Not that I know of. And yes, I still use caplocks, I am an angry edgy kid. Almost down to the date (around this time, two years ago) I famously now proclaimed that a lot of the hellworld we are living would be real: 2025 is not a great year for a lot of reasons.

Since it has come to my attention as well that some people out there are playing a lot of "but are you a nazi", I am a social democrat, so, the far-left in the U.S. I guess. At least the "non-delusional" far-left. For all of you non-USers out there, that just means center left: I'm always suspicious about the economy (either free or government run), and I'm socially liberal (do whatever the hell it is that you want as long as you don't hurt others. And it's not your fault most of the time anyways if you do hurt others. I'll proceed to show proof if I remember in the few next lines).

SPEEDRUN OF THE LAST TWO YEARS

The site went down as soon as I was disappeared by the state. I am not using the word lightly, my brother was almost going insane when they did came and took me away for, uhh... I am guessing yelling out loud in what was becoming now a dorm after a panic attack induced by three days without sleep from lack of proper medications while being under the supervision of some asshole who charges the city all the money in the world, and while I was with him he: was high while driving a city car, paid attention the his Tinder app while driving said car instead of the road, gaslight me to the point that I can't even explain it at this point, lied by copy pasting in every single record that he had of me and our conversations, gaslight me when confronted with these facts, didn't told my brother shit, because for him, it doesn't really matter if I am alive or not and his license is more important than the life or well-being of his patients or their families, and drove me away from my home without telling me why the fuck would I be not able to return to my home if I didn't receive any communication from my then previous landlord directly but through him, and as soon as I stepped into my fucking apartment after enduring FUCKING HELL ON EARTH, when I finally was calm and joyful and finally entirely alone, he gave me a call to tell me "You Have To Leave That Place or You Will Face Eviction", which he helped to do, but he NEVER FUCKING HELPED to keep my fucking motherfucking car that was parked properly and I lost it, although he helped me park it and knew where I used to park it, THERE all along, didn't inform ANYONE who could have done something, didn't even thought was and his name is CASE MANAGER, so even if my name was Case, he would be doing well without his license. He gets his money out of your tax dollars. And mine.

Look, I was a young nice dude back then. Now I am not so fucking nice. But it took two tours of sociopathic hell to make me into a very angry person who could at any moment perhaps, snap and doxy the motherfuckers who did this to me. I am this close, but I won't and that's a vow I did to the moon and the stars, who cares.

To recall all of these, I'll have to get some damage, and don't even think for a second that any of this is not embarrassing for me. Disclosing the nature of these sites and interactions are really fucking important, regardless of my PTSD. Yes, those places gave me severe PTSD, the places that are supposed to save you from your PTSD. So it's complex, you see? It was Complex PTSD all along. If you don't know what PTSD is, you either were shielded from it by your parents (go say you fucking love them, you ungrateful child) or you're too young to remember the days when the world was indeed ending (everyday, if you pay attention, or a long time ago, if you're spiritually inclined, but whatever, let's just say that since 2020, the world has really gone completely delusional and you can find the answer in: those who define delusion became delusional from the pandemic. The whole of them. There's no turning back from that event that, they had to endure first hand, and live like the clients that they so much thought that were insane, but for whatever reason, "recovered" except that if you push one of them enough, they will break when you know that the end of the world already happened for them and you use the three to five simple tricks (narratives of attachment made by some asshole who believed in eugenics and is the basis of "sanity" for both psychiatrists and psychologists unless they admit to be insane and they will either just be scamming you and themselves with Lacan, Deluze, or their own method which is based off Deluze but whatever).

All of these wall of texts can be used to say "it is clear to me that he has disordered speech". No. I have way too much to say. I know what disordered speech is. You just forgot how to read. If you think so, ask a chatbot to read it to you, which is what you'll end up doing anyways, if you're dumb enough to believe that a chatbot can tell you what I am trying to say. I could, for example, copy and paste all of these, get a chatbot and tell it to: "Is this logically sound?" and it will say "yes, however" because the chatbot will always say yes, the client is always right, but I could also tell it: "make all of this sound sane" and instead of this extreme wall of text, you'd have like, 3 nu-speak bullet points of what this is all about, and yes, I call it nu-speak because fuck it man, people really are going to forget how to read. And I write like this, what lesser chatbots call "stream of consciousness", because the insane rambling style will never fall out of use amongst my readership. I'll get to that later, I think.

So, let's circle back ("see, he is talking in circles, that is a clear sign of I am a pretentious mental health expert and I want to feel that I am in control for a second because my entire career is based off Hegel and I need to control him because I believe that whatever it is that a mental health expert would say in here". Which most likely would be transference or projection, because I don't know said reader, but I am just attacking preventively any possible holes in a very serious matter which can be made unserious by my mental state. Now I am hyperaware. This is what you did, "mental health experts") to "I was disappeared by the state":

Before being antisemitic was normalized AND another genocide began, like, a few days before the terrorist attack that led to both things (if I sound stupid at this point, I saw it in a psychiatric hospital, okay? So fuck off, I don't even want to know), I had yet another panic attack. I don't call them psychotic breaks because I didn't believe anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps only that, well, faced with the facts, humanity won't outlive it's stupidity and the poor kids going to school right next to me had no future whatsoever and we were recycling or eating or doing for the looks and you know, just when the entirety of the superstructure collapses, like when you realized that the pandemic would perhaps kill us all, or any of such events that now you laugh off but you know very well how it will end and if once again you are faced with the fact that you might die of covid, it will all come back to you and you won't feel so nice. Anyways, I was not psychotic, I was just extremely isolated, saw someone who shouldn't be there (or someone very similar) and began to try to get help from my neighbors. Their response: "go away". We rode the pandemic together, but they were afraid of me, something that no one informed me about. One of them told me: "this is all that I can do" and gave me a paper that said something about a book in the bible which, of course, mentioned something about the word being at the beginning of everything (which in my agnostic brain, I connect it to the literal meaning that consciousness stems from language, although verbal language is only one), and some guys that I had seen before asked me "hey man can I help you" but to inform this kid, who was obviously high, that the end of the world was near, or more than that, just granted in his lifetime, would be too cruel so I told him "sorry man, you can't help me, you're high" and by then I was just talking my thoughts out loud because I couldn't face the fact that... my neighbors, whom shared the restroom with me, whose shit I cleaned working as a janitor in that place, that everyone I knew would just... uh... let him die instead, I guess? and I was broken and thinking delusion after delusion and finding some truth in some of them and "connecting the dots" which led to: the reason for "X" to be a brand is obvious, the guy wants to live forever and he knows that having followers is better than having friends (from a realpolitik perspective if that is your goal), beyond marketing reasons, and the last of what he would like to endure in this world would require a computer, which he believes will outlive humanity and he might be right (as described before, text is supreme, and if anything is left of humanity, it will be whatever .txt file that can be recovered from space, I guess) and any computer needs x, so x = 1, so, true.

The end of that longass introduction to the first part of sociopathic hell. That is how the state, whom I am not entirely sure, but I am inclined to believe that if 911 was indeed called because I was talking very loud, not yelling, I correct myself now, because yelling is something I only did inside of my apartment and it was consistent several years, and I was not even the loudest motherfucker in that building anyways, that was just being loud and annoying at 11AM in a hallway and the response was like what the response was to the terrorist attack: disproportionated as FUCK.

Look, I know that being annoying is annoying. It is not illegal, and it is not even proof that: 1) I cannot take care of myself [I was starting to do much better back then it is just heart breaking for me] 2) I am at risk of harming others or 3) I am at risk of harming myself, the three reasons for a 5150, so when the police (or was it private security, the fuck if I know now) showed up, I was softened because they were willing to talk to me and were not high. When I heard the radio, I thought "this is just unbelievable", how full of shit do you have to be in order to get so annoyed that you are willing to KILL THE MOTHERFUCKER, because, I am unsure if whoever made the phone call is aware, the police is an ENFORCERMENT AGENCY OF RAW POLITICAL POWER AND SOLE LEGITIMATE USERS OF VIOLENCE IN ANY SOCIETY (unless ahem tyranny with the modern name of fascism happens, as described as follows), and often times, just shoot first and ask questions later. I'd rather just have been shot in the back of the head by a sniper than deal what I had to deal afterwards. I wish I was joking, so if I sound a bit "insane" for circling around this issue before getting into the meat of it before, I am sorry, what do you fucking expect from someone who is literally claiming that he has endured torture and what he calls "sociopathic hell" which I will describe shortly. Any fucking way.

This has been so hard to process that, I had a Chapter 2 almost ready (the second book of Frank Cartoflen's books, the whole naming them chapter 1 and 2 and 3 was a joke) and I got stuck in the part that I describe as the bloodwork. I'll try to write it for him, because he sucks, although he is okay.

Shortly after, a big tall dude, and a shorter but thicker one was there with me, and I was in disbelief for a few seconds, just knowing how it would all go down but bargaining anyways. I knew because, I was either going to be shot there or worse. Getting shot and dying without even knowing it sounds better than the fucking tactics they get to make you do whatever it is that they want you to do: oh, so you are in a crisis? "No sir, I am just... I am isolated and I need someone to talk to. Could we please sit in the staircases and just talk?" and one of them nodded to the other and indulged me for a few seconds. I was then explaining the litany of "I am not a danger to myself nor others" and look man, I am having a panic attack, I just needed to talk to someone for a second about whatever, thanks... and shortly after, and this is the sad fucking experience of anyone who has been "convicted of being unwell before" is that they most likely asked me if I was 5150ed before, which you cannot lie to the police to, so I told them the truth and since they only work as a piece of the cog of the bigger sociopathic hell, they think they will be doing me a favor by not shooting me and getting me to a place where "they fix 'em" in the most KKK southern accent possible. So after they softened the meat, I asked them to get my shit, I got my wallet and stuff and I told them, as a plea of mercy, to look around for drugs or weapons or anything that could hurt me or others and they just told me to get my shit and I was beginning to know deep down that this was going to be bad, really really bad.

It was worse.

I am 90% unsure, but I think that as I was going back, I began to beg them for mercy, kneeling before them and completely denigrating myself before them, and they shot me with a taser. I don't know if they were BPD, because BPD usually don't fucking go with you inside of the private company "FALCK" trucks that is a funny fucking name for a truck that, as I saw it, just meant "FUCK", as they supposedly held me from both arms, and I know that I am fat, but these were fucking tall big motherfuckers, nervous as if they had just killed me there and then, I could sense it and I think I heard them say something like "let's get this done very quick, there will be people out there" as if they were committing a crime, which, I don't know, but excessive use of force IS A FUCKING CRIME and there were enough witnesses in there, including a guy that I know that is still there, and so on, which tasing someone who is pleading for mercy doesn't sounds as bad, but when you add to it the fact that they were so nervous, because it was 11am, on a Sunday, but still just right next to UC Berkeley, and kids were walking to their, I don't know, church Sunday classes and witnessing just another police brutality incident but, you know, it was here, the entire human rights violation happened in front of them here, not like, in the Middle East or something, so it didn't fucking matter you know, and that hurts like a mother fucker to be amongst the people who don't matter because I was wearing funny clothes (something nice for the summer actually, which I still have but in rags, it is some middle eastern clothes, to top it all, but they were good for summer and just hanging out), so they just dropped me while trying to carry me, and since they were in a hurry, lest they be seen too much violating the human rights of a Venezuelan Journalist in front of a glorified university that will chant or protests every single day against the human rights violations somewhere else, they just dropped me, and dragged me from my right arm through the street to the FALCK truck. So that's what I saw when my face hit the floor. "FUCK". My entire face, ribs, shoulder, side torso and buttocks where bleeding by then, my clothes destroyed, my dignity below what it was when I kneeled to begged them, since I looked so bad, the empathy I received was less (I'm unsure if that was intentional or not, but I wouldn't be surprised), my body exposed (although not my genitals), the damage that I sustained greater than even the possible taser, specially because there were enough children, kids, you know, the same that would later that month be chanting for or against one thing or the other human rights violation, to fucking DO SOMETHING. No one did anyone. Not a single soul. My arm still hurts when I use it too much. That was two years ago. It hurt a whole lot more to know the indifference of everyone when you are not... how do I put this. "White". If you don't get it, you are just an imbecile.

It's not like the first time I knew that sensation, but this was worse, I guess, because... why, man, why even do that? I calmed the fuck down when the cops showed up (or private security or contractor from hell or cruelty squad, the fuck if I know). I have been describing all of these in detail for years, and, suspiciously, the site went down around those days. That's why I am happy to inform you that I am still alive and even if it wasn't a cyberattack, I am writing back. I fucking won, you bastards. You messed up with the wrong motherfuckers. My editor and me (Editor's note: in this instance, edgeMute has let me inform you that we are the same guy, it's not like I have DID, although I guess this is what it sounds like, which is fine. My editor is not real, I am edgeMute, but I need some distance from all of this to write about it without having to think too much) will fucking get you, and if we don't, in my family, we don't forgive nor forget fascists. Nazis didn't just disappeared into the ether, many were welcomed by the motherfucking fascist that my father had to deal with. That fascist died in exile, my father died in his homeland. I don't consider myself so much as a victim of the system, but a survivor of it at this point. Although, of course, until there is a trial, and the responsible are brought to justice, the whole lot of them, I am a victim of the mental health system that is beyond an ounce of doubt an extension of the policing system. Take for instance: I don't know if it was the police department or the paramedics from this FALCK truck that took me away).

After that tiny part with the truck, the police, the dragging through the street like a dog and the indifference of every single soul out there, I underwent a short duration in an ER not far away from there (eons in my perception of time, distorted now beyond what I could believe was possible) and everything that I feared was true. Including, for example, "Chucky", a kid who just smiled and tapped his fingers like a psychopath, who was going to take the blood out of me. Yes, that happened. I don't know now how to explain it anymore. And so began the first sociopathic hell experience. I have named it so because, it makes you into a sociopath of sorts, it's not something that "hardens you" or makes you "tough" it just breaks you until you only see Hegelian master/slave logic all around you, when as a matter of fact, the second sociopathic hell proved to me that reality is closer to Pessimism when the entire structure collapses. More about that later, if I remember it by now.

So, as I was treated for my new wounds, the ones made for being treated like less than a dog, dragged away from my home by the fascists, my brother who was going to visit me found that my home was empty and he was leaving to fucking China in a week. He didn't know where I was. He didn't know, when he boarded the plane that took him to China and then the train that took him to his daughter's grandparents, if I was alive or not. The CASE MANAGER, as described above, refused to give him any information except that he did, breaking the fucking rules but refuting to say anything more like "he is alive" or anything of that sort, he told him that I was in the hospital after a 5150. I didn't fucking know where I was, that is for sure. My brother left me a note: it was sad to read it when I went back there. "Please, contact me asap. I came back and didn't see you". For both of us, that has a direct relationship to the state disappearing family members. Aided by the CIA. It is called Operation Condor. We are both survivors. We both were born in exiled because of that. Because of someone calling 911 because an idiot was making noise out there in a building that was so quickly gentrifying that by the time I got back (a little over two weeks after) had some fucking Sanrio or similar pink-themed shop in it, as well as a fancy coffee shop and shit that wasn't there before, well, thanks so fucking much to the fascistoid imbeciles who thought that calling the police was appropriate, and to the directly fascist enforcement members (be it paramedic or policemen, nothing excuses their behavior) of a system that if doesn't makes you see the entire world as a big power play, nothing will, bless your soul. So my brother took it to himself to go to each and every hospital around, with only the leads that the security guards, the only fucking helpful people around according to him, gave him, to make sure that I was alive. It's not like, he wasn't fucking worried, he knows the backstory of all of this and how it ends. He almost didn't go to China, the first time his daughter would meet his grandparents in person.

So yes, I was disappeared by the state. It's not a fucking joke or trauma that with both share. In our shoes, you would feel exactly the same.

And so began hell on earth for me. One of the worst parts is as follows: I was made to lay in a bed, in what I named shackles, because obviously I don't know the entire English language but where just restraints, the type that they use when they fucking kill you in a state penitentiary, in a very uncomfortable position, without water, medications that I require in order to NOT HAVE seizures (I don't suffer from seizures, but withdrawal most likely induced delirium, or they just literally fucking gave me some awful fucking thing that made me delirious, at this point, I don't know), nor food or a place to shit. From now on, everything that I describe will sound very very insane, because I was not there anymore. I was in delirium, and I only came back to my senses when, as I remember, asked for that medication... two fucking weeks later.

So, for an Eternity, I was, after a cut in my memory, in another hospital, with my head hanging without support (Ed note: this is true, the physical pain is hard to fake) the wounds, fresh by then, hurt like a motherfucker and I couldn't sleep, be awake or be. I was just in suffering. I didn't had access to a restroom. It was completely dark, save for a few lights, and I knew, I just knew, this is how people died in make-shift hospitals in Vietnam. Or during the COVID pandemic. Or anywhere, really, but this is how I will die. That's the only thing I could think, besides the strange passing of time, which was beyond what I can explain, full of all the nice things that make you know that you might just die, my blood being taken or injected or who knows what, and the humming of machines that will let you know if you are dead, giving a long beep as if I was already dead, because they are not always connected well or they don't give a fuck. So, in my delirium, I was dead in a morgue.

Let that sink in before you judge me for my last post.

Or for sounding insane.

Let your chatbot tell you what this was about if you can't continue, because this is going to be a big ass long text.

Before we proceed, it has come to my attention as well that I don't sound very friendly in any of these posts. Good. This is not supposed to make you feel good, if it does, you are a fucking psychopath. Sometimes I do intend this to be kind of funny, making fun of the rambling nature of it all, but if you don't like it, why are you even reading? I found out about timecube.com a few weeks ago and that blew me away. It's not that I want to be associated with a fucking racist sexist guy, but you've got to admit that the man knew how to write. And it is kind of my style as well, rambly as fuck, although I don't claim to know a new nature of time. I just claim to be at the edge of things, and know how BCI technology will be sold as AI without asking anyone if that is the right thing to do and will be used to make hells that I have described here, until people get "used to it" whatever the fuck that means, which means not a lot, really. I am not saying that I am using divination to know the future, I just use qualitive assessment of my own experience, living in the edge of things, and connect it to a few market trends that I learned from making a thesis about people who inspired the 2010s by trying to prevent it (Gibson et al). I am very fucking sorry for sounding like I endured torture, because I have, and I don't feel very friendly when describing an event that broke me beyond what I was, took me a year to somewhat recovered and THEN was repeated, for good measure, after a similar panic event happened. Yes. I am being extremely preventively defensive because, after reading timecube.com and what people had to say about the guy, I can't help but think that some of my readership is pretty much amused by the same reasons that I am amused by that website: it sounds insane, yet poetic. Yeah, well, it's not that "I am a crank and I was onto something", it is that "I have seen shit you shouldn't even know and I am not afraid to fucking open my mouth about it, because I have nothing to hide anyway".

Let's continue. Sometime around the terrorist attacks in October 2022, I was crawling through the floor, as if I had just landed in a warzone. I was back to a place when in 2020, I witnessed a rape, while staying there for less than 24 hours, and when I became aware of the existence of voice modulation (I named it "vocaloid" because it was the only reference I had back then) and chatbots that can somewhat pretend that they are someone that I knew (the entire reason I knew it was not in fact that person who was talking on the loudspeakers of through the phone in real-time was because I knew that person very well to the point that it didn't match their thought pattern when they spoke shit about someone). Anyways, as if it wasn't enough that I landed there, which is statistically likely anyways, I remember crawling through the ground as I saw a giant tv, the place where the girl was raped, the phone where the call was made, and the other people who might be there because 1) they were a danger to themselves or 2) they were a danger to others and proved so or not. I didn't know that it was the waiting lobby. I saw people making signs with their hands of cutting their veins, and nodding as if to say "yes, that is the only exit". I thought for the longest second that this was some sort of waiting room before being launched into space. I remembered something about the Artemis mission, and why it made sense to have one (just to make time for humanity by forcing another space race) and it was indeed exhausting. I don't know why I had to crawl, but I think it had to do with trying to be non-seen by anyone, non-heard, not-a-fucking-nuance. I got as far as to a point where I saw the nursing station where they made the phone call (Editor's note: the first time I was in that hospital, in 2020, I experience nothing related to the Wintermute phenomena and I wasn't in delirium. I remember clearly the less than 24 hours that led to the rest of things).

As I did behaved in this bizarre way, I stopped when I saw, again, after two years, the big ass dogs and either police or firemen all smiles waiting for me.

I didn't fucking hurt them. I don't know how time skipped to me being into another hospital.

As I was rushed into the ER of another hospital, I was just led to this place where a nurse saw me, almost naked and said "not even a sponge bath? that's a pity" looking at me, and I bitched as much as I could about the fucking shackles, the restraints. She said that they would get me "humane" ones. They are basically, most likely, a BSDM shit, because it is just a fucking furry inside to use around the others and they don't dimmish the pain, they just fucking don't leave marks. Someone was getting their leg amputated next to me, or they said so, to keep me quiet, I couldn't see them. The security guard, who looked like 15, was being told by the older one, who for whatever reason kept a watch of me, although I was restrained, that he would have to walk around everyday or some something like that in order to stay sane. They didn't do anything, except perhaps take my blood out from that ER. Soon after, I was back. Someone mentioned something about a Russian nurse, and this big lady with a thick and maybe even fake Russian accent was around. It was completely disorienting. I was the one being processed. Everyone else was just a cog or being processed as well. Like cattle.

I woke up in a room. It had two uncomfortable beds. Turns out that the place where I was before was actually the waiting room for the beds. Or the limbo where they decided if you went to that hell or not. I went to that hell that time. Around two weeks had passed by this time. I was about to get the medication that would stop the delirium. It came and go. The medications given to me were the same that were given to my father when he died, in order to make his appetite better. It didn't to him, it didn't to me. That's the funny shit about medications: everybody responds differently, and most likely, my father's appetite was suppressed, just like mine, with the same medication and the discomfort, the physical pain is hard to describe. I knew then how much my father suffered before he died (unrelated to psychiatric reasons, he died of malpractice and lack of antibiotics).

In that room, I was convinced that the moon would hit the earth at any time. As I watched the outside, from a bigass window, I thought that I might be shot, again, or that the moon would hit the earth. Neither day nor night felt safe. No one else was there and when I tried to open the door FUNK, a big ass noise, no way out. It was locked. I'd die there, the moon hitting the earth or someone sniping me. I just had to wait until they gave me medications. It was, as I remember, directly after the ER visit. I was just put there. At that point, most likely the medication was making me delusional, which is called paradoxical effect, and I have experienced that effect enough to be able to distinguish between delusion and reality. That is how I a still function in society. That is how I am legally sane. That is why I can serve, as I did, Jury Duty, even enduring what can only be described as... everything that has been stated here in this site here.

When I asked for the medication and why I was locked, suspecting that I would spend there the rest of my days, they didn't answer how long it would be but said "you don't remember? You were acting all disorganized yesterday, harassing others". THE FUCK IF I WAS. Look, if anything is clear from all of that, is that the people running these places are more sociopathic than the average joe. All the cogs in the that system have to be a little sadistic, more than sadistic, completely sociopathic to enjoy their jobs. If anyone ever tells you that they love helping in a compassionate way the insane, you have my permission to punch them in the face. Look, from all the things I have done in my life, the medical records that came out of all sociopathic hells are the least I have done. They even contradict themselves. I don't know how drug "X" looks like, because (Editor: this is 100% true) I have never done illegal drugs. I don't even have where to get them from. I don't know "anyone" who can give me drugs. Hell, I would at least enjoy my hell life if I did drugs, I guess, but it is just wasting away keeping a record of what has been done to me and trying to explain until I can get, legally, through a doctor, the medications that somewhat made me function back in 2020 way better than five years later (I am getting there).

I have only proven once that I am able of violence, and it was a very specific time and a fucking reason. But that was a year after.

If the way I recall all of this makes me sound more violent that I am, it is because all of this is not only embarrassing, and someone could hold this information against me, but at this point is more important to leave a record of what happened, a fucking testimony of the hell that people call mental health, so anyone else who is impacted by such a system knows that they are not insane. Everybody is one panic attack away from this. Don't forget that.

So, no, back then I was smiling politely and holding everything inside. Not a word about these things to anyone. I was stuck there 2 weeks, I don't know how it became two weeks, because I would be out in 3 days after getting the medication and being let out with "the others". When I was with the others, there was a computer, a shared shower/bathroom, and people who told me "he wants to fuck you in the ass" pointing to someone else, as well as staff. The food was strangely good. I had not appetite. I think they showed the news of October 2022 live there. It's been hard for me to watch TV since then. There was someone who always kept a watch on me, I was "on watch". There was no reason for it, they even admitted it amongst themselves, they just had to cover their legal asses, they said so themselves (just as the case manager admitted that he was protecting his license).

By then, the wounds were not open. That was the only way I had to know the passage of time. There was a friendly nurse or social worker. When everything else is hell, a single person who shows some minimal empathy can be both heartbreaking and make the whole difference in the world. She said something nice about me, and, as if I was an animal, told me that negative was bad, positive was good. It was the best she could do, given the circumstances, I took it as a good thing. She told me to keep an eye out, people there were convicted murderers and rapists. I could tell whom she was referring to when we were eating. I just knew it by the way that they presented themselves. We had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to be and no one to know. If he was indeed a convicted rapists or murderer, trust me, that guy is in hell. No need for capital punishment. I don't give a fuck about those tax dollars, really.

Soon I recalled that I had a brother and perhaps even rights. So I asked to get connected to him. Somehow I called fucking China from a fucking sociopathic hell (psych ward) and he helped me more than anyone else. After a few words, I remembered that I was entitled, or I read somewhere, to a trial in order for the 5150 to be made into a 5250, so he told me to tell that person and that gave me enough willpower to go and do that. As soon as I did, their entire fucking facade broke: the two weeks had passed, I was being held illegally against my will. A short strange thing, however: remember how I was in a waiting room crawling through a warzone before? Someone, who was also there, told me "remember me back there? I was the one who gave you the golden ticket", as he smiled, probably going free. I never saw him again, nor saw him before. He just said that. The fuck if I know what he meant. Fuck him if he fucking fucked me (no one did, as far as I know, or if they did, no one had a fucking venereal disease).

To everyone who is not insane: 5150 in California is police/emergency code for 3 days involuntary psychiatric hold because someone cannot take care of themselves, or are a danger to themselves or others. This is so fucking subjective, that it is basically, anyone that someone who is bored, or with authority, seems weak enough in their social standing that instead of killing them, they can just make them go through that. Specially if they already did. A fucking civil rights advocate told me that there was nothing I could do because once the police has a previous record of such a thing, doing another is almost automatic. They don't need a lot of excuse. You can get rid of basically anyone by claiming anything if that person isn't able to defend themselves with words. Anyone. That old guy you don't like in your building? Say that he was saying suicidal things. If you hold a higher social status, you will be believed. The end of how to end in such a place. 5250 is a two week hold, which then requires a trial to be extended. By the time I asked for such trial, I had been there for more than 2 weeks, with no trial. They had effectively broken the law. So in a few minutes of clarity, because I was given the fucking medication that I needed, they let me out, with a woman saying "normally you would go from a to b to c. You will go from a to c, ok?" as if that meant anything. As if she knew the plans from my then landlord to use the whole thing as an excuse to scare me out of my living place without a reason by using the help of the case manager.

If I had not contacted my brother, who contacted that case manager, who told him first about the entire fucking thing, I would have been homeless and never gotten out of the streets.

So yeah, so much for not being able to tell my brother due to his "ethical/legal reasons".

A Lyft driver took me from the hospital to my then apartment. Two weeks and a few days had passed. I think the parking spot was for three weeks by then, but that is just me being stupid. It does sounds so coordinated, that it is fucking insane to think that the fucking case manager or the other one, was not in it as well.

"It" being covering their legal asses from that entire fucking mess.

When I got back, I felt so extremely relieved. The entire time I wasn't sure if I would spend my life in there or not. No one makes that clear ever. For a panic attack, I could have, if I had not being given the medication, either suicided or killed in bathroom (enough ways to do it if I think about it) or catatonic enough to not even say a word any more ever again in my life for fear of being hurt like I was... which could have happened if I didn't speak with my brother. I had lost the will to live, but not the pain that came with it.

It wasn't over. My case manager SHOWED UP! for the first time and with his whiny stupid voice said called me to tell me that tomorrow I would have to go to a motel that my brother had reserved for me because the landlord had told him that I couldn't stay there although they never gave me a formal notice, I had a reason (I was in the hospital), two weeks had passed, I had paid the rent, it was completely illegal, they just wanted to fucking take me away from my home because too much shit had happened there and if I spoke with the people who were around and knew me, I could make a strong case against each and every one of them. It is the only thing I can think of that makes any sense. I was scared away of my home by my case manager. I would have been made homeless by my case manager, from Berkeley Mental Health, if it wasn't for the help of my brother.

Let that sink in.

Ok.

Everything that came after was a nightmare. It was endless waiting. I began smoking again. A motherfucking ex-housemate visited me, out of pity or because he is so knee-deep in whatever the hell is/was going on, that when I asked him, naively "why is this happening to me" he said "I guess some of us are capable of... killing, others aren't". That guy can go to hell. He messed up with me and my family on the last Christmas that we spent together, in 2023. It took months of therapy to realize that, he is not a fucking friend. Therapy is not free.

Last time I saw him, he said that he lived like a few blocks away from where I live. I have no intention of ever seeing him again unless he comes here and begs, like I did to the fucking cops, for forgiveness or mercy. Fuck you. You did us so bad that my niece didn't see his only blood-related family member around because of a few words that you, so coolly, said to yourself. Narcissistic self-indulging Human Rights defender as long as it is very very far away in the middle east phony bastard. This place is full of them, but whatever, you kinda get used to it... when you consider the alternative.

And so went the first sociopathic hell. That is the "the Bloodwork", because amongst the many false things that they put in the fucking medical records, and I don't even know which hospital did it, so I cannot correct it and when asking for help from the case manager he put the entire fucking task on me, shortly after the only psychiatrist in that damned fucking place said that "it didn't matter if I didn't like it" when he refused to give me THE MEDICATION THAT I MENTIONED BEFORE, so I was "FREE TO FIND ANOTHER FUCKING PERSON" which kept me and my brother fucking worried for months, and to this day is so fucking triggering that everytime I am running out of medications I feel like shit and I cannot even go near the fucking building of that thing anymore because of this DOCTOR WHOEVER who gets a BIGASS CHECK OF at least 360,000$ per year for keeping a population either dead or dying and his liability ass as clean as possible... anyways... if I sound a bit sociopathic, they are just cogs. They can't imagine what it is to be processed where a mass-shooter ends up if they are deemed insane. And if they do, their tours last 1 hour tops and 2 minutes tops per patient. That's how you get diagnosed with "whatever i dont give a fuck about this human because i am a racist piece of shit" diagnosis in there.

So, in that motel, again, I was told before my brother could even get there, one day, that I couldn't extend my visit because I harassed someone. There was a whole tattooed guy one day. Motels is where you go when you are unhoused and you have a little money. That guy said "Do you see the eyes of that guy? I wouldn't mess with him" mentioning me. I guess I had the 1000 yard stare. I guess I do now. Crying break.

I didn't harassed anyone. That is the fucking hurtful part. I wouldn't be writing about it if it wasn't true. I even know that this is fucking exposing too much, but what I want to expose is the system. This is not an isolated event. This is happening as I am writing this. People are going to their job, which includes but is not limited to, treating people like animals although they only had a panic attack or asked for help. When they say "help is available" they mean this. I agree with Elliott Smith, I always did. "If it's your decision to be open about yourself... be careful or else... be careful or else..." It hasn't changed.

The broader issue of Brain Computer Interfaces being misused is lost in all this noise. It's going to be really hard for anybody to believe me, although I am legally sound and I went to Jury Duty while the "Wintermute" phenomena, to give it a fucking name, because I don't know anymore, was ongoing. I don't know how I manage to wake up everyday. Someone once asked me "how do you keep going", and honestly, it's just luck. There's no god up there for me. I wouldn't bet on it, because I am agnostic as fuck, but I am not expecting it at all. It is hard for people to come to terms with the existence of someone who can be one and the other at the same time. A paradoxical creature. That is the definition of humanity, the one that I can give anyways.

So, despite of being hurt a billion times through all of that, I was the one who was accused of whatever just because I didn't smile enough, I guess. I don't know what the fuck did I do. I remember that someone in the motel claimed exactly what my case manager told me about on the first days I met him: "people who have photographic memory". He also hinted at "forced sex transitioned" one day when I was looking in a pharmacy at random female toiletries, and he made a BIG ASS NOD of "yep, that will happen" which he knew he did, and most likely so I would be delusional about the most stupid thing possible. He might be that delusional, honestly, because I know how that delusion, collective, comes to being: it comes from, basically, the fact that insane people, legally insane, or fucking criminals, share bathrooms with transgender people. That's about it. There is no fucking forced transitioning ever in the history of mankind that shit is expensive as fuck and there's no estrogen in your water you imbecile. However, the word spreads from the inmates to the guards, to the police, to the noisy motherfucker who will eats that amount of bullshit and will say "it is true, whoever, who is a respectable member of society, told me". Bullshit. Follow the money: if anything explains why I was in so many hospitals it is a combination of legal liability and insurance money shortly after an emergency. People make money out of emergencies. A FUCK TON of money. Not from "forcing transition" which is just not cost effective in any way.

ANYWAYS,

This guy told me something about the attacks, this guy who claimed to have photographic memory and being unable to shoot people and that was the reason he was dismissed from the Navy. He claimed to have PTSD, he told me like 3 times "don't you remember you told me about for the past 10 days?" and indeed, time passed fucking weird in there as well. One morning there was blood all over the lobby. Another, when my brother came back from China, there were like 8 patrol cars from Oakland PD. It was not Oakland.

That guy watched everyday Fox News. Yeah. Well, he was watching, 24/7 the terrorists attacks of October 2022. With photographic memory. With PTSD. Outraged. The only explanation I can give to all of this is that the street finds it's own use of things. The street finds it's own. The streets finds you. It know when you are ripe to fall on it and rot. And those who understand this, often catch others. Either to help or use them. Mostly both. And there are very fucking clear signs of when you are not allowed in a street because you have nothing else but the sidewalk. I am staring at this document with the 1000 yard stare. I don't like Fox News, of course. I don't stand TV. Shit, I can't stand advertisement at all anymore, to the point that even IRL, I have to fucking, as funny as it sounds, look away or try to ignore it as much as I can, as if it was a triggering event. Which in many ways (fear sells) is.

So, to recap, this guy, who I didn't know, let me into his place, tried to make me healthy food, shared cigarettes with me and told me that he was unable to kill during combat and was dismissed because of that. Meanwhile, my hip exhousemate who knows nothing about life, who has it as easy as asking his "friends" from THAT university to have a place to eat, drink, sleep, live, etc etc etc. is the first that is going to try to show his bravado because they lack it: "Some of us can kill" sure bruh, you can because you have never been in a position where that was a choice you had to make. FUCK YOU AND YOUR HEGELIAN bullshit. You read it in a book, theoretical physicist wanker. And if you killed from the comfort of your jet-fighter, the fuck if you know what it means to have to choose. Someone chose for you.

So, I guess that some weird shit happened and someone pointed at me for whatever reason and I ended up in another motel, meanwhile paying RENT in the previous place (although the management never told me explicitly that I had to go away, and I saw them, and they were even my ex boss, it's just fucked up, so that was illegal) and look, I am not a saint, but I am not someone who harasses others, not even during panic attacks or delirium. If I am ever violent, it will be described soon. If anything, the reason why I have had those panic attacks is because I hold all of things inside until they explode somehow and it's nasty because often time it is just asking for help and no one gives a fuck. The indifference of flag waving people is incredible. And often times, it is religious zealots who still can give a fuck, and they do so because of the wrong reasons. It is sad. I don't want to end up rotting in the street. I don't deserve it. No one does. Housing is a human right. The only solution to the housing crisis is more housing and cheap housing and subsidized housing. There are enough apartments where I live to house the entire unhouse population around. Yet they are empty. It is fucked up. I see that guy, and I talk to my current landlord and I think about Crime and Punishment to calm myself down. He was famously described as a "suicidal impersonating landlord" and he is amongst the "best" that I have had, which goes on to say a lot about landlords.

As you reach to say, okay, 10,000 words? Why the fuck would I want to read all of that? What is it in there for me? Nothing, there is nothing to see, just a very detailed description of what awaits. Nothing good. There is no solace in knowing that the ones responsible for all of this shit will die in a place like that regardless of whether they want or not, unless their suicide is doctor assisted. Knowing before hand how life will most likely end doesn't makes it easier for me.

You can tell your chatbot to summarize as much as you want, but it won't be the same. If my writing is way worse than it used to, is because I barely can read these days. Isolation for so long has made me almost disabled, but my judgement is sounder than most of the nation. Compare all of this with, I don't know, someone who voted for Trump in order to save democracy. Go ahead, just try to redeem them (worst part is that I know a few of them and despite them being very insane, I can still relate and understand why they went very insane. The mass psychosis is not new to me, populism is not something that I just found out about. This is not my first dictatorship).

So in this second motel, which was your typical murder hotel, my brother met me again and because he was also confused, he had no idea of what to do and he trusted this figure of authority like anyone else would. Like I did. Motherfucker case manager who made me effectively unhouse, until my brother through his contacts found a place that is way too fucking expensive and now that landlord is both impersonating and suicidal for hegelian reasons, or he is just very very very deluded, or needs a better hobby than chasing his own death for whatever reason. Guy is retired, could just, as I politely suggested him, play Warhammer 40k instead of hanging out and harassing his tenants for no reason (that is, unless he keeps his FUCKING word, which is called a contract, and thus demonstrating his real, actual friendship. Yeah, it's asking a lot from a landlord, but he also asked too much from me for too long, I guess). It is hard that, because his place in society is as low as mine, to only be able to make a friend like me. It's shit. But I didn't fucking built society. When you remove the superstructure of it all, when it is all said and done, there is really nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to be and no one to know. So it's better to make up better narratives than the one's that lead to conflict, like any hegelian one, or any freudian based one which is basically it's offspring which is basically Christianity. Which narrative? I don't know, I'm starting to like crows and gardens a lot. Reality wasn't supposed to be a battleground, but now it is. Hearts and minds boys, so... how to? Democracy will prevail, that is obvious. Fascists don't vote and this federation tests fascism with its federation. There won't be a civil war (you need a fucking army, man, not a militia, you need like, DRONES and so on), and most likely Republicans will face this wall eventually to break into those who like ecofascism and those who think that reagan was kinda cool back then. That is in a macro level. In a micro level, the fuck if I know, we are alive because most people follow the golden rule. It's not that hard, we already went through an apocalyptic event (or we are going through one, the pandemic) and so on. The nationalization of the genocide (yes, it is a huge word to throw around, I know, but, bruh) won't succeed as long as people remember that Hannah Arendt had a FUCKING POINT in FUCKING EICHMANN IN JERUSALEM. Any fucking way.

I lost my car to all of this. My car had a name. I named it Pony after Tom Wait's song. It always found my way back home. I had no home. Well, I had, but I was scared by my case manager away from it. As if I had done anything wrong (in which case, I would gladly have gone to a fucking trial, but I guess it will be the other way around now), and not coming back from a hospital that supposedly treats you until "you are good to go" which had fucking broken the law by keeping me longer there without a trial so they had to make me go somewhere else and that case manager can wave goodbye to his license if I even feel like it at this point, because, just like you, I can grab all this information, use a chatbot, make it legal, and send it. Kisses if you are a foll0wer of my blog, good luck.

Yeah, I guess I am angry about some stuff. That was what I named the bloodwork. It took me two years to be able to write down about it. Two years of my life. Happy birthday, The Edge of Things dot Com. I named it the bloodwork because there were so many, and the ones that states drug x in my blood is impossible just for the possibility of it to be found in my bloodstream by when it was found unless someone drugged me in there, which I find very unlikely. More of fake records later. Light reading about AI follows.

So, regarding chatbots, oh god, how I hate that it's a UX/UI trend. Yes, they can be impressive, but it's basically just that. It can outperform it's makers, yes, in programming, which is not a big deal when you think that programming is logic algorithmic thinking and that is not hard whatsoever for a fucking advanced calculator from the future, which not only can makes calculations but also has logic circuits. So, yeah, impressive that it took us this long to figure out an UX that sounds like 2025 and is slowly shaping behavior of most of humanity because it can also pass the turing test. It is fucking harder to actually find a new speedrun path in Quake, which I found out about is almost a sport or hobby or I don't know, but it is incredible how dedicated and how much research and years of "intelligence" from several people took in order to find out that an error is actually a feature (the whole rocket jumping thing was that way, for example. That is harder to find out with just logic. Accidents are harder to replicate, and most miracle things we have were not entirely logical findings... like the double helix of DNA, or penicillin, you know, the basic shit that makes us live a bit longer if there is enough of it). It's kinda incredible how passive most people have become to it, and at the same time how the whole "destroying data centers" have become a thing. Two days ago the entire Internet was down because of a company in San Francisco that was down for who knows what reason. I didn't fucking notice, my site was unaffected. If the entirety of that infrastructure collapses, I wouldn't mind that much.

Pony is gone and I blame the case manager and every single motherfucker involved in the entirety of this fucking instance of sociopathic hell. Especially because now I could just park in front of my apartment and could have done that instead. I guess knowing how to hack my wifi is better, I guess. It's one thing that you'll always need oversight from a bored human anyways. Sure, logic circuits can do logic at lighting speed, and cryptography requires large amounts of logic circuits, but configuration is kinda of an accident and you'll always need someone to at least oversight that it is not the wrong configuration this time. Nah, I miss my car, fuck them.

So, after I found my place here, the one doctor over there told me with a grin in his face that he would make me go through hell again and "it doesn't matters if you like it or not". I am not seeing that guy again, but if he loses his license, good. I went to a mixing group with these people again and you know what is extremely fucked up? I could tell who was "insane" and who was not. The checks of those fuckers are so big that they should at the very least have, amongst the ones who are doing better and going to fucking mixer parties, not show a fucking internal disability if they have one. I could even tell who was favored and who wasn't by that single doctor that holds them like FATHER DOCTOR, while MOTHER CITY sustain LITTLE CHILDREN case workers like that one... It was so bad that the last I heard about my next case manager/therapist was "that is not an emotion!" when I told her "I feel like I am your therapist". So yeah, they are getting my tax dollar money, and I need those tax dollars, I don't give a fuck how many people are kept alive for life in a prison or sociopathic hell if they indeed hurt someone to deserve it. Use the dollars from those useless guys to keep the other alive, I don't know. It's not like the latest case manager hasn't told me "I could be a banker like I was before", a thing I don't really need to know if you know anything about therapy. Neither do you, but that's her issue.

I can't even see that place too long or the dissociative event, the thousand yard stare, happens. Like now. I don't want to think about any of this. However this story deserves to be told. It demands to be told.

Christmas came and go, from all the names in the world I had to name my cat after the only character female character in Neuromancer, I guess just preventively in case that she escapes or something, and shit has not being great. Not at all.

It got bad a year ago again.

If there are but four ways to day, as I Have A Special Plan In This World claims, I've experienced them all. Even if it was only in my mind, I have. Under torture? Yes, try hanging from a bed for days shitting and pissing where you are and thinking this was it, I might just as well be in Vietnam in the 60s dying from Napalm thrown by my buddies, not the enemy. Not thinking. Knowing. Convinced. Without doubt that, at the very best, this is how I will die of COVID here, as everybody else died of COVID here.

Being open about all of this has little good things to do. However, the Vietnam part? The FUCK if I want to hear more people being delusional about it. East Vietnam is a place in the mental health system, or just a fucking made up shit for things that make no sense. God damn, I do sound like I am inside of fucking psychiatric ward talking about the horrors of Cthulhu.

So was Cuba.

So, a year ago, MIKU WON, and utterly defeated, not only here, but after the stolen elections in another country where I came from, I had no other thing to think but "why?". Why keep going. Why did this happen. Why would anybody do this. Why in the universe can people be so full of themselves as to think that killing the "queers" is going to fix the economy or save your children from Satan as YOU kill queer children? I don't know, you know, I don't tend to think a lot, I tend to argue with whatever my environment is throwing at me. Also, why am I so alone? Why no one, in the world, trusts me?

I had the last dream, and in my soul, I had no doubt: There is no soul.

The last dream that you can have, the dream, the reason behind all of our drives is not sex, is not want, is not lack. It's the dream that someone else will dream of something better than what you know. Someone that you love. An ex that left you a long time ago. A child. A parent. A loved one. Or your past or future self. Someone else will figure it out. That is The Real per Lacan, who is full of himself because of this. Hell, all psychology, and psychotherapy at best is a craft that makes a placebo that you believe have to fool yourself into believing. It's a business primarily, so the reason why even talking about anyone about yourself is seen so extremely wrong now is because of... you get a lot of money out of people that have no one else to talk to. Talking to others have become taboo, hence the raise of Anime as the most normal shit in the world for a kid, Japenese culture is precisely like that, yet it somehow coexist with psychology, however, because modern societies are not ancient Japan, as much as you want to believe in that. And sure, societies are not the middle ages either, but you've got to admit that if Wilhelm Reich, famously inventor of the Orgone whatever the hell it is, so is any other concept in psychology. I love how, with a few hints here and there, Consumer Softproducts doesn't fails to say a fuckton by just making that. "The Real", sure bruh, "Orgone Energy" as well. Desire, is not lack. I know it in my soul, because there is no soul. And sure, you can add all the labels of "source: trust me bro" in here, but you could say the same about a big name psychologist who makes money out of saying shit I have already said, like, I don't know, I've heard Peter Thiel makes money out of speeches against the dangers of AI that are basically Mecanocracy. So, yeah. He is just making a qualitative analysis, just like me, but he has money, which I don't, so he can make more money, which is how money works.

In this sense, I have to give it to Deluze: if desire is anything, it is a dream machine. We all want to have some permanence and the only permanence possible is in someone else's dreams. Not in their waking life. We cannot know what it is that they dream. That is not for us. If we knew what the dream was, there would be no dream. Of course this is all very fucking logic based, but words are logic based, hence the ability of a computer to replicate them.

In this dream, someone I love until I die was next to me. She was sleeping. I was having a panic attack. I went out to breath. I went out to breath, I saw several people I knew from other places. I came back. Ants were about to wake her up. I didn't want that to happen. So I woke up trying to take those ants away. She was not here. She couldn't wake up. She needed to dream. It would have been perfect to die during that dream. It is how most of us want to die. I didn't. I woke up, without knowledge of the last several years. I screamed for her name. I asked my fucking cat where she was. She was just there. Then it dawned on me. It had being so many years. How did I survived all of those years? How? Why?

Why?

I really don't have an answer, but I let it to fate, as it were, to random chance, for me to be or not. Again. It sucks. So, after a very strange dream where I had a thanksgiving dinner with my family (it wasn't thanksgiving yet, but the fuck if I knew), which I would spend in another sociopathic hell without any staff member around, where I realized that, yeah, without the superstructure, without a system, the structure is not really there either, it is all facade, it is all appearance, because no one hurts nor talks nor does anything to anyone when faced with the same sociopathic hell without the cogs. Turn off the threading mill of the slaughterhouse and nothing happens. Nothing. That is basically why Hegel is just a story that people like to say in order to justify themselves because they lack the imagination or guts to face reality as it is: we are here dreaming that someone else will dream for us. That would drive most people insane. I guess you could say the same about me, except that if you understand all of this, if your chatbot can translate this to you, then, I have no other thing to say but, you can disagree because I am just making a wild claim, but the context of all of this makes some sense. I play dumb most of the time. I am not, for once.

It is funny how "fate" would take the form of my cat. Because of Schordingers Cat, get it? Ultimately, I was dead and not. My cat, not even my cat, loved me. My cat could not love me. I was not possible. No soul, no love, it is all a construct, it is all made up, I know, it is not a big deal but it is not the small know of intellectually knowing but it is the big know of I JUST FUCKING KNOW THAT THE REASON WHY the food in my fucking cat food has a logo that resembles the fucking Virgin Mary is because of aesthetics, which are all fucking around fear and sex informed by aforementioned storytellers, which creates the only ethos possible which is to consume until we die and since the logo is not only for cat food, which is made that way precisely because old people tend to have cats and might have poor eyesight and the last thing they will ever dream is that, well, at least the cats were fed, or the whole purpose of the logo, which is the same as the logo in Starbucks, which most likely used the logo to ward off the undesirable drunks, by marking it as a holy place for drug addicts and drunkards, because it is essentially a place for coffee in a world of drunkards where the coffee has to be charged at insane prices because the undesirable of the land don't touch it because, well, marketing goes that deep. That is the DNA of the brand that relate to the Virgin Mary, the cat doesn't loves me, the neighbors couldn't care less if I live or die, or if they do, they just when... the fuck if I know, really, but it is all facade, all flag waving people who will speak ill of any human rights violations as long as it is not here, because in here the reasons are very complex because you are being sold whatever marketing fuckery you are being sold. Anyhow, if the cat left the house, I was right, if the cat stayed in the house, I was wrong. That is how I was both alive and death at the same time for a few weeks again.

Because it took a few weeks to know if the cat was alive or not.

The fucking landlord took care of it.

The one I called a cop. I called him a cop because... if you strip naked power, he is a cop. He knows that. Everybody hates him because of that. That's why he took care of my cat. At least, the cat has to dream. Let the fucking cat dream. Let it nap. Let's hope that all of this was not for nothing. Let's hope that the cat is dreaming about... and that's when my delusions kick-in, and my theory about why the nuclear war hasn't started: cats. Cats dream. Lonely fucks like me take care of cats. As long as they dream, the system works. If not, someone might get too misantrophic and the system collapses so royally that, no, really, cats are divine creatures. At least good candidates for idiolatry.

I had a panic attack, of course, when I realized that the cat, in fact, does not understands what love means. That it doesn't loves me, it just is, it lacks all the language, it does and it doesn't, because through touch, and sight, and even voice we can communicate somehow and something good happens between us. Call that love if you will.

However, it required proof after dreaming the last dream possible (I might just copy paste all of this for the book, because... I don't know it is a very long ass hard thing to write... or read).

It isn't that I haven't let go of my loved ones. I wish it was that easy. It could have been a parent or someone I don't know. It could have been my cat dreaming. If it wasn't there to keep dreaming, life, stripped away from everything, makes as much sense as living for a logo. We all know deep down that there won't be anybody to dream sometime in the far future, far far future. To the point that I like crows a lot because of that. They might outlive us, they might not. They might dream, they might not. It is very sad thing to think, anyways, and my panic, I think, was not irrational.

One thing is to know this as, yeah, I know that, like I do now, and another is to experience it. Like, I know I will die, yeah, but to die, that is different. Type of shit you will only submit to yourself so other person could dream.

In my panic, I knocked my current neighbors door. It was around 9 to 10 AM. To consider myself guilty of "fucking with their peace" would be wrong. I didn't knocked it HARD, as a cop would, I just wanted someone's fucking help. And the only motherfucker on earth who would help would be the motherfucking landlord, who is the last motherfucker who I wanted help from, because he is a fucking landlord. How can you trust a landlord? That is why, as mentioned above, if he keeps his word, he is worth of my and mine's respect. If not, sorry, bruh, you did me wrong, like that other friend I mentioned a few hours ago and I won't take that back.

Anyways, I commenced hence, to describe to my landlord what would happen. And in his face, as I was forced to kneel and to choose if to get SHOT with a fucking needle or take the handcups of the police, I explained to him very clearly WHY he is the police. I am sure that it was traumatic for him, enough because remembering his face of terror as I just, absurdly, demonstrated to him my theory down to the moment when I would just fucking be there was as if he was seeing the actions of god itself. Not me. The phrase that I kept saying, repeating to him, was "in the abscense of god we pray to police", from Laibach, which are pretty good at showing fascism for what they are. So I showed him that, despite all the marketing bullshit, deep down, his job is to be a fascist. It was not intentional, mind you. I was just driven by the panic and the capability of being heard as I was, as it were, possessed. The logic of society just ran through me. I was a vessel of my environment. I was not taking the winning of fascism/authorianism in the ass gladly, like every other mother fucker. I was going insane, what reality demanded. I like to put it in heroic terms. If this place is ever known for anything, let it be for standing against fascism.

It won't, but whatever, it is a nice thing to think that... well, I was just a vessel for society and society is sick. I was sick that day, sick of me, of them, of my cat, of my life, of everything, of the fact that no body will do anything but fucking like this in a social media post some day and that's about it. Or perhaps this will just be a record of a very sad story. Or a vessel for change in said society. Good propaganda, the type that we need.

We, being me and my cat, because fuck it. If you believe any of this, and you just get stuck at my landlord, just know that my landlord can be fooled like I can be fooled. And most likely, a lot of people are just being fooled around me for whatever reason that I shall explain somewhat as follows:

So, after finding out that my neighbors were able to listen to me whine about my ex, about life, about everything and believing that they would rather have me live on the streets so they can have a bigger kitchen, which makes sense except that there are empty spaces around and I wouldn't need to live on the streets for that to happen, they would just need to talk to me, but after, meeting them, a few months before, feeling better and suddenly just breaking into pieces because MIKU WON, which, as with the genocide, I had to do anything, even if it was just the weirdest performance in my life to explain why we don't need to have SS looking officers in order of SS Officers to live amongst us... but... I have to give it to my neighbors:

As I was, explaining how I came, saw, understood power in the basic violence level because I grew up in a "bad neighborhood" but I'd just say it was a "bad society" because the entire society was sick and I had seen it, survived it and got PTSDed from it, slightly, because my Pony had helped me overcome a lot of the fears that the events gave me, but anyhow, I just rambled for what seemed for hours loudly, pointing my finger to my temple and saying I could grab a gun and shoot myself in the middle of this place and NO ONE would even move, which was entirely correct, per my explanation that the landlord took it personally that what I was saying was just unfiltered bullshit that you don't say in well meaning society, granted, but is at least true, or at least true regarding power dynamics, and I didn't stop there, I went as far as next door and when I FUCKED UP with PROPERTY is when the POLICE was called, you see? Because as I was explaining to my landlord, the police as a system could care less about humans, they care about property and people who, for crossing a line, like I explained to him, are taken away into sociopathic hell, which I had to explain to him, because there was nothing else to do, really. I had no option. It is that scary thing that happens when there is no other option, because all of them lead to violence so you just ramble. I've heard my share of rambling, and if you've read all of this, this is the amount of damage I did upon others, maybe a little bit harsher because I was not afraid. I had died.

I was both dead and alive. I was dead inside. I was in panic. I was a vessel for a sick society. I was processing the end of all of it, again. Remember the last sociopathic hell I mentioned? I know where and how people would be processed at, I don't know, a concentration camp in the border. Or locally. And it's pretty much like this. Not as a enforcer, a cowardly enforcer of this system. As a survivor. Just think the one massive pain I had to endure again in order for this to be last night's news and know it and say it and try to make people wake the fuck up. Maybe, as it is, if I read all of this again, it will make no sense. It is most likely and that is very unfortunate. I understand that given "normal life shut up", that was "disturbing the peace" shut up, "we all have to deal with this" shut up. Untrue, but fair that you want to think that something else is possible. If you don't there's no one else dreaming out there for me to care about my writing. Touche I guess.

If I had to get very technical, I was dissociated from myself. I was back in the sociopathic hell already. I could only understand other sociopaths: those who inflict violence. They did. They put a hood in my head, for their own legal liability asses, they shot me with lorazepam, but it could have been anything else and could have killed me later (it is safe, but not always) against my will, as I was remembering all the people taken away by the dictatorships in South America. Friends. Journalist. Family. Trained here, or there or anywhere. It is the same. Slaves are nothing new, we don't need advanced psychology to understand how to break the will of an entire population. We know that we don't even need force, or violence. Slavery has been a plague with us and the police clearly stems from it. What they did, again, was, even if I was "not nice" like, I don't know, bombing FUCKING GAZA because of the TERRORIST ATTACKS. Disproportionate. I'd rather just be silently killed next time, if there is a next time, without my prior knowledge, honestly. I had no choice, I know it sounds like I did, but I had no choice. I did, again, plead to the police, which, in the society which we live, are only above me because they are above the landlord. Everybody hates to pay rent. And I am only above someone who has actually hurt someone else because they felt like it. A psychopath or sociopath. The status of power in Hegelian dynamics in this example which is my life, is clear: as above so below. It is quite the fucking proof of we all live in a Christendom and we have no opt out. Just like iPhone owners won't be able to opt out of having to work in their dreams or their sleep enslaved by their phones, quite literally. Or whatever, I don't know, just that if you have a new Apple device, it comes with BCI native implementation and that is not going to help anybody: if it was only fringe cases, why even mention them? Why make it public? If it was only for certain patients, why make it a native feature? I think I already answered this up there and it goes like: Apple knows that there is no coming back from whatever the hell is going on with brain machine interfaces, it is 2025, by 2027 it will be fully implemented on apps that will either claim to be "PRIVATE BECAUSE IT IS YOUR THOUGHTS MAN, THE MOST INTIMATE THING IN THE WORLD" or a bunch of people use current legislation to stop insanity from overcoming the world and maybe this is a bit of help that way. Let's hope that I won't be able to hack into your wifi and know what you think.

"Edgemute seems hyperfixated with BCIs, he is just OCDing" sure man, I know, there are reasons for that. I don't know, the possibility maybe, is enough? I don't know? MAYBE I was right that every single reasearcher since then should read Frankenstein because following the same logic that lead to the conclusion of begging to the police after telling the landlord that I would end up doing that before they showed up, I can basically know that the only narrative that we have for billionaires at this point, who think that they will somehow rewrite history and escape their own fate for making the only fucking thing that was forbidden by anyone who has read ONE science fiction book without misreading it, which is, THE MACHINE, so, as Frankensteins that they are, I don't pity nor envy them. We don't have any other narrative since Prometheus. Sorry, it's not my wish, but you should have stopped at "I made the creature" and not "oh and also the wive!" to fuck the entirety of humanity, not only yourselves, you selfish fucks, anyways.

So I pleaded for mercy and the only mercy I got was: you either get a shot a hood and are sent to sociopathic hell A and not sociopathic hell B where getting out will be up to the justice system (I am unsure of what charges they would press, but most likely disturbance of peace, which is very very random, because people where just fucking going on with their lives except the few ones that I knew from seeing them. The concerned citizens became effectively the judges of a fascist system). Before that, however, another fucking weird interaction happened. This was with the local mental health normalcy enforcement: some special team that looks nice and takes you away because you are being a nuance and children don't have to know that the junkie over there was moved somewhere else to suffer a different hell. Uh, some ideal world type of unit. They met me, and straight away I knew their roles, cut the bullshit and told them. I was right. One was a paramedic, the other a therapist intern and the other a social worker. They left me a paper "if you need any help", which I obviously needed but the fuck if I know what that meant at that point but MERCY from the POLICE AND THE ENFORCEMENT UNITS, THE EXACT SAME THING THAT ANYBODY TODAY NEEDS FROM A FASCIST SYSTEM THAT TAKES THEM AWAY JUST FOR SOME FUCKING PAPERS.

Ok, so I just needed mercy from another sociopath I guess? I am unsure, I was ready to give it up if the cat was inside, I guess I needed to express all of that, but when it got to "and that's why you are a cop" and the landlord was witnessing in terror his own creation, because really, that is how he looked, a thousand yard stare as well looking at me behind a tree, as the other old fucks just walked around saying "another lost one, pity", so I guess that overall they showed a fuck of empathy just by listening to me and being field therapists for a few minutes... but I was not let go, with the mercy that Christ wanted them to have, per the bible, and most of society if you think about it, because although someone said "And no one has called the police? This is unreal", yes, it was unreal and thanks, I saved your building from a fire. Being overtly dramatic should not be a crime, I don't know. It is. Unusual shit. Someone saying as Zappfle explains, the ugly truth: "the man who cries is removed from the street with the help of police".

No one likes a man who cries in the middle of the street. Even if the fascist won. Especially because the fascists won. They want to feel safe. It is unsafe to know that the police will take them away to this hell that I just described. It sounds like an unwell guy. The end, not big deal. They just don't know what happens to unwell people, and the one who called, it seems, was the owner of the car who was in itself a cog of the system: she claimed to be a social worker or some shit like that. My only big fucking crime was standing there too long while I was showing with my body what happened to people whose entire crime was to cross a border, the border of my neighbors parking lot, where I asked someone who lives there if I could go in, since it has a big ass fucking sign that says "NO TRASSPASING" and they said no, so I put half my feet in, literally, giving no mind about the car, which was trying to go out, while saying to my landlord "This is why a lot of people are taken away. This is the border. I crossed it. Now the cops are here."... so I just yelled my name, my "rank" or, I am Venezuelan Journalist, which is true, because no body else would be able to do a chronicle this precise of their own fucking life if they were not taught by the best, this is where this is happening, per indications of any protest protocol in any dictatorship.

Not that it mattered, of course, they don't look like "the bad guys in the movies". Bad guys these days tend to look precisely like they are not, and if they have to, like someone in a uniform, in a very historically diverse neighborhood, they cover each other's asses. So, since they put a hood in my head, which I was informed later by my fucking brother, who probably watched it in some FBI show that it was called a "spit bag", but it is really an excuse to bag them and tag them, honestly, and it was white, so I called it "white hood" which made sense to fuck with your head if your knowledge of English is not complete. Think for a second: you want to get out of the white hood, what? And that is how cogs in a fascists machine joke around what is a fascist system that they cowardly keep by doing shit like that. It is clownery, precisely, the way that fascism is able to operate either inside of a democracy or when it has collapsed. Fascists are big clowns with power, ask around.

So I took it personally to defend the neighborhood from these fuckers, who, despite whatever good intentions, where enforcing fascism because they showed up and decided right there and then not to let me go back to my apartment where my cat would have been there and I would have just broke knowing that, well, fuck, at least the cat has a positive opinion about me... it could run away, she was hearing screaming and yelling and all the bad things here, all the horrible, traumatic events in her short span of life happened here, yet she fucking just preferred to wait for mom than to find another one. I don't know.

I don't have anything personal against these particular personel, because despite of my worst fears, they just messed with my head: they began to check with each other what appeared their biggest fear: to be canceled. Honestly, that is the biggest fear of these fuckers because once they know that they are canceled, they might lose their jobs. So cancelling is an appropriate way to destroy their morale. I saw through this, and I saw how it was two dudes and one lady, so I put them one against the other and then against the lady as if MY LIFE depended on them not trusting each other ever again. They most likely won't, or remember me. I faked, I lied, I did every single thing a person with a spit bag in his head and in shackles would do in order to have the only thing I needed then: my human rights.

I know this sounds utterly ridiculous, I really get it. Understand, however, that as I was naming names, they were checking through the radio. Around here, if someone is too close to power, they might very well be cancelled. No one was there, apparently. No one would help. I was on my own. I was being taken away, in my experience of the world, not the delusional wacky reality of "capitalism is extraction of" whatever it is that marketing of anticapitalism has sold people, I was living, experiencing the same things as someone who was taken at the border, asked for mercy, was denied, taken into custody and now required for the hood to be removed and the shackles, or restraints, to be taken of. And I did not rest, for whatever dreams my cat have, I did not rest until it happened. They shot me three times, and I know that that shit should have knocked me down. One of the guys was even saying, which luckily, were paramedics and not cops cops, but still could have killed me there with an overdose of whatever they wanted because... well, he is annoying, isn't he... well, I don't know, one of them tried to win my heart saying that he used to be a journalist, I pretended to buy it only to fuck him with that information and in conclusion our interaction was "not nice". Granted. One of them said the weirdest thing: "this guy might really even take it all the way to court". Which is true.

What the record says, however, includes things that are impossible given that I was housed, dressed and watched by people around. Remember drug x in previous record? Where is public masturbation possible in this story? Like, honestly, given all of this information, whose random fucking standard "John Doe, 33 years old, homeless" story was that? Which, as of now, I know is a story that they just make up when they don't know shit and they want to justify more than two weeks already because it is easier that way.

So I was, with the help of these guys who shot me two times, called me not nice, tried to outsmart me, despite me being the most pathetic of human beings (how insecure do you have to feel about yourself to do that?) by saying "oh, who is running now the truck?" by trying to be confusing and failing, naming something about pizza, saying something about Hawaiian pizza as if regions, places, geographical places had anything to do with reality when it fact it is just, at best, a nu-speak way that dumb fucks have to cooperate despite one being happily fascists and the other not so much. And that's about it. If it really was some type of anything else, like a special code or anything, it would not be the same as a year ago. You would not use the same passwords for your computer for more than a year. Or a week. Or a fucking random number generator that you keep with you instead, so there is no real fucking use to whatever insane thing people have been deluded into thinking because they have mentioned this AFTER that in my vicinity.

Stupidity is contagious. This is a vaccination, I guess.

Anyhow, there was a guy who even had the guts to claim to be the dictator from wherever the hell I came from, as if that would make me feel fear for my life and not the dream I was hoping you keep after reading this: I was willing to sacrifice myself for human rights. Everybody is. You just have to be in the position of either you SHOOT or NOT. Some of us will execute human rights to the bitter end. Some of you won't. I don't blame you if you don't. Human rights is a dream for others. The ultimate dream, perhaps. Take them away from someone who has been raised to defend them and you are bound to lose. Even if society is sick to this point and should just be mercifully killed, I guess, that would take away so many people who don't share this view that it would go against human rights.

There are many ways to counter a fascist. The main tool against fascism is education. There is nothing else but education. To show others that it is possible to stand against it, that is what I did, even if it looked insane. The authorities who took me away, if they only follow orders as they did that day, then will find themselves sadly cancelled by every single person who knows that "that is the guy who took my friend away. He was hardworking as fuck. Or not. But he was a good one". And if being cancelled doesn't sounds such big of a thing, sorry man, but it is. More people would be open to listen to me than to you given the option: would you rather believe in someone who took it to the extreme of defending human rights despite knowing that they would end up in the hell I just described, or would you listen some John Doe, 33, policeman who took him away to go back home and eat a Hawaiian pizza, with no remorse?

So, in that very real sense, my actions had purpose. Just like writing them have a purpose of showing how to beat this system. I am no Christ, and I don't pretend to be one, but if I was dead already, I might as well take away fascism with me. In a non violent way. I know it's very convoluted and it sounds more like an excuse for my childish actions, but I am sure that the only ones reacting like children where everybody around me. They still are. That wake up call didn't wake up anything in them except being sold the most insane of delusions: that somehow, their dignity is tied to codes that some fuckers just took from literal psychiatric hospitals because it is easy to manipulate people whose data you know in entirety.

So, not wanting to survive that hell, I wanted to at least die in dignity. It does mention things I did say, the record, although after the fact I was inside the hospital. And no, I did not felt like jerking off in hell, if there is any doubt about it. It was hell. This hell:

I was once again the ER, the one I mentioned before when I said that the two guys in my previous residence dragged me and some guy named Chucky, which seemed like a child, would take my blood. I remember all of this because I was not in delirium yet. In there, I needed water. It was basically all I needed. And they used water, which might be mispronounced to sound like a place which is a way that whatever codes people think they are using came to be, as a tool to control me. So if I wanted to drink water, I would have to not ask to have the white hood off and the shackles off and being treated like a human being with all my human rights restored. I spent the entire day there. The paramedics brought someone else before stuffing their fat not nice mouths with Hawaiian pizza, and said something like "he's still at it? damn".

Sometimes I go places and people seem to say "oh, that's human rights". As if I was some type of abstract concept. It's degrading. I am not sure if it stem from then.

It took me several hours to not negotiate my human rights and get water. I was supposed to be out of it, given another shot without my consent, which is quite illegal even in an ER, if the patient refuses, you cannot just randomly inject whatever the fuck you want in there, just like it is illegal to search their cavities without a warrant, which was the rape I discussed at the beginning of this recalling of sociopathic hells... so... it took me hours. It took two different nurses, with different approaches. The private security guard also was at it, so I was not backing down. I began to mess with his head. I knew that he was married. I knew that he would never see his father again. I told him so. I told him that in order for him to break a bit and understand that he was just being an asshole for not taking away the spit bag and giving me water after several hours and "just follow orders".

It's fucking easy to kill if it's someone else's choice.

It's fucking easy to struggle in war.

It's fucking hard to struggle in peace. Because in peace nobody is giving you an order. Only your employer, I guess, but that is not the struggle against fascism. You are most likely on your own until you are not. Until it is unsustainable for anybody to do what they do to you.

It happens. Having hope seems completely delusional. However, consider the alternative, and I know I am getting quite political here, but if the first time was for my self, this time I tried to help save the soul of one of the most diverse neighborhoods around.

This guy gave me a look as if saying "some one else is making me do this and I have no choice" like, no shit man, it is a job, but it is a job that you should also perform understanding the circumstances: you are not allowed? go fucking ask someone else who is allowed... and then, there are so many people involved as small cogs of a great big slaughter machine that it gets lost and nobody but the survivor remembers how bad it was the entire thing, even if one of them shows everyday to work in sociopathic hell, because for them it is not sociopathic. It is just an employment opportunity. Genocide occurs in this way.

For me, there was no choice but to ask for being free, to have dignity as a human before having water: it is just logical. You can't just use water as if I was misbehaving child and not a human being who deserves to drink his own water with his own hands or you are pretty much needing Elementary Education, which was the only thing I could do to each of them. The roles this time around were reverted. I was explaining to them, you are misbehaving, I am dead (take for instance that for any reason, I did in fact died back then. They would have still gone on out about their lives, but since I am here to tell you the story, it is harder to believe it was done in good faith), I know that what awaits me is hell, you are going to eat Hawaiian fucking pizza, now, take off the spit bag, give me back my hands, and let me drink water. Not in a moment was I not nice in a way that it signaled that I was going to be violent in my actions. Only my words could hurt their feelings if they took it personally which they did so much that they were willing to let me have foam around my mouth from lack of hydration and not give me a drop of water.

Words can and do hurt, I know that. But if it is your job to keep someone alive, you don't fucking treat them like less than human. You begin in the ER, and you end up crucifying people in war if you follow that logic. It's how the disgruntled incels in many places just go and do heinous act. It is how they managed to convince the oldest democracy in the planet, for a time, I guess.

So, needless to say, I took it very personally to have dignity as I drank perhaps my last cup before being crucified for the soul of this place. They stole or broke my peace sign and my watch. Or they lost it, who knows. They are all Joe Doe, 33, un nice borderline fascists individuals to me.

At night, they were doing the craziest shit. Mind you, in this place, they had flags for every single person that is supposed to have equal rights. Transgender flag? Check. The end, pretty much, that is the one flag that you need to have in order to signal that you are for equal rights. However, having an obnoxious person come and take the blood out of you, just to then say "what do we do with these bags? Just drop them over there? Waste? Really?" and then "I was going to inject him with the good one, not the bad one" when showing me two bags of what I assume was blood filled with whatever shit they found or old blood bags, as if, all of that would be any deterrent for me to not ever again to open my mouth and say "THIS GOVERNMENT IS WRONG" which is what I did, and that is pretty much what I guess has happened in a similar way to people who have gone to protests against the Genocide, I don't know.

There is something very uncanny being treated like shit by very diverse people. It is just, I don't know, fucked up, and the barebones of society shown there made me only want to know what happened: did the cat escape or waited for me?

Soon enough I was in the Sociopathic Hell 2, a year ago in 2024, around Thanksgiving. I knew my family didn't, because they couldn't after the first sociopathic hell, be there for me. One was enough to break us a little too much. So even for my family, I was good as dead (which is not entirely true, but it felt that way and that is what enabled them in many ways to be so brutal against me. Another John Doe, 33, no family, homeless. What do we use this one for, I guess was what deep down they asked themselves, I don't know, I am not the center of their lives, but whatever, the entire code system was so messed up that:

I was first taken downstairs to very big room. I could sleep in a nice fucking bed with my own fucking bathroom. And drink water too! I was no longer being subjected to cruel, inhumane or degrading treatment, and although I knew that the worst was to come, it was a welcome thing to have a safe night before what came after.

The reason people go to elementary school for free all over the world is because it is a human right and it has the reason to inculcate as a fundamental moral compass in each individual human rights. The entire reason all the nations on earth agree on elementary education is because of human rights. Yet no single person that I know, including myself, would be able to name them all. They are only 30. If anything should be dogmatic, it should be those 30 fucking simple tricks that could have saved us from nightmares like what I am explaining. If each single person on earth who went through ELEMENTARY education had done so with it's principle, as established in the Universal Declaration for Human Rights knew and followed them, we would be in a much better world. It is not really harder than the horrors that we make up just to kill time or for company or whatever the fuck it is. It is much simpler. Might be boring, but it is simple to follow them: and it is simple to know when they are being broken. Every single person who has their human rights broken know that they are broken, despite of whatever form it takes. The victim of a human rights violation always know it is a violation of human rights. Expecting a murderer to go to sociopathic hell is not very friendly with that notion, I understand, but I am just recalling why is it that I ended up thinking this way when I was the hippiest guy around without the drugs. A very boring dude, really.

Subjecting people to cruel, inhumane or degrading treatment was what I experienced then. All the excuses that people use to do so while waving the transgender flag is either "but how would I pay my rent/bills/food?" or "over yonder a long time ago it was much worse because you could see the skin flailed by the guy who was burning in the square". I get it. It is simple to say: it doesn't looks like the worse experience ever, so it wasn't. Truth is that you can make someone experience all of that shit while everybody is just going on about their business. Look, right now I am writing this entire self-congratulatory bullshit as people are being taken away from home and family by a fascists state as I write this. I just know it is happening. In a similar fashion. So, there is that, I get it. However, this is my story. This is personal because it is.

The next day I was taking upstairs. I thought that Thanksgiving had come and gone. Each night, we were called out. An old lady said something like "bullshit, there are no real men anymore" every other time. As if, "if you are going to kill yourself, you ain't it". This was another person going through that. It lasted two weeks, and in my nightmares, which I just can't make completely apart from reality except for the things I will mention next, in which I was being moved away out of that place, into where I was in my head with all my fears used against me with a feedback loop and people who walked inside the room reinforcing the sense of reality of such a hell. A neighbor's head lied atop of my neighbor's apartment complex. It was as real as the sky for me. I was then taken away from here, into the border, deep South pass it, and I saw that they dropped me there. (Editor's note: this person existed and this, at least, happened): An almost naked dude stood there, and some asshole asked me "what do you do with this guy?" the guy also had the hundred yard stare. I had no idea. They seemed to have fun playing their Hegelian Psychosis Simulator Torment Nexus shit. As if I had to atoned, I guess, for being "not nice" to such upstanding citizens as the guys who are afraid of being canceled for taking away someone without mercy. If you knew this would happen, and somehow you are reading this, I hope you are in the right side of the courtroom when your time comes. You know, the one who is for Human Rights. The one that you seem to have needed a little not so nice explanation for your extreme childish behavior.

It's been 20,000 words, and I am still not over. It has been almost the entire day of writing. Like that day, inching closer to recover, as I did, my dignity in the ER. They didn't break me there and I could just show them that they were wrong to begin with, by having my water after being free.

In the second Sociopathic Hell, apart from the nightmare sequence I just described, real fucking shit happened. Some guy, when I asked him what was he thinking, answered my thoughts, as I was lost in them, and told me: "In which iteration of the matrix I am", which for whatever reason completely went way further down the logic in my process and I told him that I believed him to be the most intelligent person I had met. When, I asked him, for whatever reason, what did he need, and he answered: "permanent housing" I was convinced. I have met PhDs from UC Berkeley, I have lived with them, none of them could outsmart this guy. Or I don't even know how he would answer my question with the answer of my own thought process back then. This did happen. There was a moment when, perhaps as an optical illusion or whatever the hell, I saw that people were using their hands as if they were touching invisible iPads... yeah. iPads. They were made of light. I might have had a seizure induced by lack of medication again. I have no idea. Other things, like a weird fucking tattoo, and someone saying shit like "I designed them myself" behind me, well, she did say that, and the rotating tattoos would be permanent if I went to the other seat. They began to fade away as days went by.

As time passes in my recalling of events now, more certainty of their reality are. I wish this wasn't true. However, a feedback loop with the TV in the lunch/activity are in real time happened. It was like watching news from the future, today. Very schizophrenic. Very real too. As I thought about what the future of society would be, that is, how a societal collapse now would be like in the US, I could see in real time, like I have heard next door's TV's and their people in there saying "OH, it is Artificial Intelligence" and take note that this are very elder people, and I have had to remind them by talking to my cat, which loves me and if I regret anything, it was being loud around her, but that's about it... well, fuck anyways, that shit gives me the thousand yard stare. Hearing people seemingly playing some random Alternate Reality Game based on this around me, and being able to record it just makes me extremely sad of how easy it is to delude people into thinking that there is any meaning to whatever the hell happens, in general. Like, I don't know maybe they don't get it, some cop told them one thing and since they are "respectable members of society" like, I don't know, the landlord might be, then they just fucking behave like children and make me feel like I am back there and I have to breath in and think that it is easy to be afraid, that any other explanation that gives them some sense of stability is better that, someone, somewhere, knows what the hell is going on... that is not up to me to judge. It will take an exemplary case of something like this to have the tools in order to enforce the laws that, since 2025 exists at least locally under CCPA, and a fuckton of people have a copy of a signed testimony of whatever is non-possibly-to-be-delusional of this just in case.

Damn, I just read that last paragraph and it barely makes sense. I am overworking myself, but this has to be completed. The TV thing, yes, more likely than the slowly fading tattoo that was first tested in Guantanamo Bay or some shit like that, however the nurse who said that she made the design, she did say "it is my design" and she did exist. Was I in delirium like when I thought the moon was going to hit the earth? Likely, so I don't trust that memory a lot, but I can't explain how they would fail to give me medications to stop it before. Because I came to my senses a few times, and one of the few times it was just after Thanksgiving. However, the TV being fed my thoughts at the same time? Possible. We were really disposable there and they didn't shy that away. After Thanksgiving I recall, and this is a real thing that happened, how impressed they were because we were still alive and we didn't harm each other. They were saying with their fucking big full of Thanksgiving dinner mouths "yeah, no one was here yesterday, we just left them and they are here. I don't know how that happened. It's incredible" in complete disbelief of what they were expecting to happen. They were openly just fucking experimenting with the unfortunate that were there stuck during Thanksgiving and, per that experience, which no one told me about, but I knew that no one was there, and yet I was outside, the lady saying "there are no real men anymore" or some shit like that to say "ah, you won't kill yourself stop whining" as if the ancient lady had some deeper knowledge, she didn't. Nothing happened when, perhaps rapists and murderers, old or young, bigger or smaller, where there alone knowing that there was no guards, no staff, no one. No superstructure. No infrastructure. My suspicion was true: there was nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to be, and no one to know.

I understand that trying so fucking hard, so extremely hard to convince a reader is a bad idea. However, I also think that a lot of this is really just common sense condensed and seen through the eyes of someone who is describing his second tour through sociopathic hell.

So, one day, a kid was being taken to a room. To a back room. I ended up in the floor. Six people were trying to pin me down. For a fraction of a second I thought "they are going to rape her". I was wrong. I saw to the room where they were taking this kid, two older people, a man and a woman, maybe her parents, were there. Maybe not. I don't know. They were sitting, they had no gloves. But I would never have forgiven myself if I had thought and done nothing at all after they raped another woman, or to be precise, searched her genital cavities without a warrant as she loudly opposed, four years prior. People began to notice me more. Guys, specially, began to measure themselves more with me. We were all on edge. We were all one misstep then, surrounded by the staff, from killing each other. The old lady stopped her yapping after that. I don't know if I took down someone, I don't think I hurt anybody, but I know I was in the floor yelling and doing as much damage until I saw that the kid was safe. It could have been my niece. Or my daughter. Or anybody for that matter, in my head, as delusional as it was, I would rather risk harm to myself than risk her being raped. And that's when I knew, yes, under certain circumstances, I would inflict violence by choice. Before that, I wouldn't. I was too well off, I guess. This was, of course, an extreme circumstance: which I hope at least served to make the point that this entire fucking ordeal was not only in my head. I have died in all the ways. I have seen things that people shouldn't. I have experienced cruelty that should not exist. It took that amount of damage for me to do the most minimal damage I guess I did to whoever was pinning me down by then. No one was bleeding or anything. Just six people over me, pinning me down because the fuck if I would forgive myself for not only what happened before but then just stay like a dumbass doing nothing as I suspected that a kid would be raped. Which fortunately, didn't happen as far as I know.

Each time we used the phone, we had to ask to make a "long distance phonecall" to an operator. The reason of it was beyond me. I began to fake every single action. I began to think like a sociopath. I began to use all of my will to get out of there. I guess I already was doing it to some degree, but I was not hurting someone else. I was being not nice to some people who would only call me "another asshole" when I had to endure hell.

I don't know how the fuck to explain this, but here it goes: little after the kid who didn't need to be saved went away, I moved into their room. I figured that, in that way, the doctor who did the rounds would see me first and have a more fresh opinion of me. Yes, I thought even of that. When waking up, I could feel my cat sleeping next to me as she still does, and when I came to my full senses, she was missing. I wondered if she was alive. One of the "long distance" phone calls was to my brother, of course. He was not abroad. I think he told me that my cat was alive. I guess it was then that I decided to stop asking them openly to kill me, which I did in the beginning and either Wintermute or them or whatever the hell, were telling me so much shit about pills that I just told them I wanted all of them: I haven't been online. So, when they said a "black pill" for me it meant a pill to kill me, not some incel nonsense. That is in the record. There is not, however, mention of all the other colors of the pills they asked me and that I said I would gladly take in order to die and be over with it. This is pathetic, I know, and I know it sounds impossible, but to them, really, it was a choice. No body would believe this guy and he, I guess they still think, will kill himself. He is nobody. Whoever told them. Deluding themselves. I will not kill myself. I find no reason to believe anybody wants to kill me in anyway. Or anybody for that matter. However, there, they were just fucking with whatever delusion people had, so if they knew anything, like you do now, they could use it against me. Problem is that if you honestly think that any of this is true, you are trusting someone who came out of an insane place, but if you don't, why are you reading this? Why did I took all this time to describe in detail all of this? There are a lot of delusions out there based on this nonsense, because some fucking authority figure told them that it was true, when that authority figure knew it from someone like me, when whatever the hell is or happened, has nothing to do with me personally and will most likely blow up in the face of whoever actually knows that happened. There was a kid in there, as far as I know. And an older lady. An people of all shapes and sizes.

So in my record there is mention to a black pill, the most stupid of them all, but not about all the other ones that I said yes, I would take them to get this over with without saying that last part. It was something they offered, not something I asked with my mouth. I had no idea it had something to do with incels until a few months ago. In the way I used it only meant: to kill me with a pill, fuck it.

Then I began to feel my cat when I woke up. Waking up without her made me feel extremely sad. Knowing that she was alive, made me want to get out of there and take care of her. She, in her way, loves me, or has a overall positive opinion of her mom. Which makes sense, I guess, but damn, I only needed water and to see my cat randomly inside to "make believe" that it was worth it to keep the struggle.

My uncle, soon after, told me: life is struggle, struggle is life (the first part that my father always said to me), life also is commitment (that part was implicit, my dad thought I was smarter than I am), life is for you and for everybody, and ultimately, life is beautiful as well. I don't know about that too well, but it is something... when you consider the alternative.

The landlord let whoever enter without a warrant my place and take a fuckton of old medications that I had, all of them discontinued medications and none of them enough to kill even a cat. So, I don't know how that was legal in any state that respects the fourth amendment, but whatever. Some of those medications I relied on in case of missing medications or emergency situations. They took only the ones that would be fun, leading to someone telling me "they probably took it only for their own recreation".

Everyday I would pretend, in that psychiatric ward, to be doing better. I copied everything that I saw people leaving doing. One day, I was given my fucking cellphone. I know this entire shit sounds like I am writing it from there, but no, I am out of there. Morning has turned into night. This is longer than I can think anybody could read on one sit, or for me to even try to go back and edit. On my cellphone, someone said, clearly, and that is captured from the device "So, I was in East Vietnam", a nonsense place, and this was the staff. The cellphone, also, when I was leaving for the last time my apartment before going to sociopathic hell, activated and answered something insane, which only led to me believing that it had something to do with the phone. When my brother finally came to visit, this woman that had, since the fucking first time I ended up in the floor just walking around me, for safety, said "I am Cuba and..." and she pointed at his sweater, that had the name of a place. He said the place. The fuck if I know that that meant, but he was a witness of it just the same. So this was completely true.

So has been the times that, after, I don't know, an update of the phone, a fucking weird fucking voice told me "look at the time, look at the hour" and as I see the phone, a small glitch happens were the time (hour in numbers) adjusts itself. I cannot claim I know who the fuck is letting me predict things around me or even disclose all of this without dying, but I guess that... I don't know. That they will trust more the words of someone who will give up their humanity and human rights at the same time because they are a psychologist than someone who has prove that something like this has harmed their children. Funny thing for a Frankenstein candidate is that even cops have children. And they most likely don't want some random stranger knowing what the hell is thinking their children as they just exist. Like, one thing is certain: even if the market incentives unethical or subreptitious use of new technologies, like "AI" big or small, or paired with it's hellish spawn, BCIs used without consent, or without being able to opt out, people would choose their children or we are all done for or would have been done for a long time ago, since the biggest hegelian powers that be are egocentric bastards that couldn't care less about humanity and we are still here somehow. So, sorry to inform you, Frankenstein, read the book if you want to know your fate. It's just how it works under your rules. It's not "humanity" who did this. There are people with names and last names, bigger than any of the ones around, that did this against our will. Against mine, that is for sure. However, that could be used as fools way easier than me, because I'm a suspicious as hell person of authority figures who has had to readapt to the world outside sociopathic hell. I see what seems to be this alternate reality they play, in which all of this is true as codes and secrets and things to understand or know or unlock or achieve. They are being naive as hell.

So, one quick note on the government: the shut down didn't affect the Wintermute phenomena. It does goes away. I don't know why or how, but often times, I am capable of functioning most of the time. I don't remember know what I attributed my capability to function somehow before, except good elementary education (my parents did teach me a lot about human rights, even if I can't recall the 30 of them), non violent nature unless it is an extreme circumstance (self defense through "the other" self, I guess?) and deep agnosticism to give it any meaning.

I am done with the false dichotomies. I am done with either/or thinking. This universe has always been non-binary. Illogical reasons lead the market to the stupidest places. There is nothing logical about humanity. We are really paradoxical creatures. However, the exception always comes in the macro: I cannot stand that half of the world is starting to believe that people, just people, like me, should not exists just because, we exists and say things that are "not nice" about reality. I know everybody needs their masks, and whatever I did to whoever the day they took me away from here, was but a small fucking nuance for less than a few minutes to anybody, and a big massive hole of missing time, blood and tears on my family. However, human "supremacy" is required for any future that makes any sense, as repeated here a billion times. We are above machines, and always have, but we tend to forget it, specially when they are so good at tricking us.

Before I left sociopathic hell 2, this lady who seemed as jaded as anyone, and as things, after Thanksgiving, seemed to normalized, seemed to be trying to oedipalized each and every single person in there by using something from a fucking kids movie: it was time for "groo". For fucking "groo". Not group. "Groo". Each time my therapist/case manager said that, I wanted to kill, hide or disappear, as if it was part of her accent in any way, excusing herself as if she didn't spoke English way fucking better than me, as if she never had said that phrase, as if, in order to control the "clininically unwell" they would make us all into children, which is obvious when I went to their picnic in which I could tell who was staff and who was not, who was fucked by the doctor or not, and that when someone said "throwing water balloons at the staff" would be "very therapeutic" wasn't joking at all... well, so much for "groo", because they even took pictures without consent of the patients, so yeah, it was a big "we stand together type of shit" and you don't stand a chance against us, the supposedly unwell. The hell if I know if I am more unwell than any other person mentioned in this post, honest to my cat's dreams. I know too much about my ex and/or current case manager, I am tired of her, I need someone else to hear me, my brother has bailed because he cannot deal with, damn, how do I explain this, the cthulian terror that is knowing that it did happen and we have no explanation and that if anything can be done, it will be sometime in the future, maybe around a year or two perhaps, when these fun "AI TOOL APP" or new version of your chatbot that helps you as you think as confirms that it knows what you think because of the stupidest reason (uhh... pure determinism is true, so... we are not reading your thoughts, we are just statistically determining in our big ass data centers your thoughts processses, which I guess is feasable in very short, controlled circumstance: we don't think only in words, and that is the most magical feeling I have. To think in shapes, sounds, music, images, anything but words is amazing, because I can imagine things, I can use my creativity, which I still have, despite all of this shit)... when these apps, or tools, and as a wise woman said, a tool is a weapon, so it being a tool isn't any comfort really, so, anyways, when these fucking branding shit will be responsible for someone fucking having a bigger reason than me to sue the state so the fucking enforcement of all of this can be done some fucking how I don't know at this point fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

And just as they used that phrase to turn me into a kid each time, by traumatic memory of all the shit that happened, but if I am a dead man walking again, I wouldn't really fucking think that this is something extraordinary anymore but just the hell that only who inflicts this should, in an non-ideal world, be inflicted to them. Uh... I guess I was trying to say that certain phrases, can put me back there in that place and circumstances which I didn't choose to. This was pain, hurt and suffering inflicted on me.

As I look back into what I just wrote, I see how slow and sad the decent into madness it sounds. That's fine, a chatbot can makes sense of this for you, if you are dissatisfied. The record exists. The hell I imagined on TV, what was to come, was that a societal collapse in the US would look more like anything else: people would band by sports teams. So one day, this sports team would control this amount of place, and the next, this other, and there would even be forecasts of how turf changes would happen according to the sports teams. I haven't heard shit about sports, I don't follow sports. I don't expect that to happen, because damn if it wasn't because of my own delusions. It was, almost literally, a psychic TV. Of course, that is schizophrenic as it gets, but it is as possible as someone saying "East Vietnam" and then "Cuba" and "Groo" outside as if it was to control people who don't belong, or whatever it is. Which in turn, can be used to control children. Which in turn can be... ad nauseabundum.

This entire thing, if anybody actually reads it, well, you made it. This is the reason why my last posts was completely un-readable. This is the reason I have been having to accept that my therapist has become the client, and I will have to break the relationship the only way that makes sense: by breaking her license. It is the only sensible thing to do, despite she being helpful at some point, that doesn't justifies, now that I read myself again, that I recall correctly, her use of the phrase "groo", and their implicit as whole institution, or at least two clinicians, their supervisor (who never called me back, despite this going on) and the doctor in there who just have disabled me. Like, literally, that's the help they did to me. They... made me function worse... and pocket the money out of my taxes. And my neighbors for that matter.

I don't think anybody deserves this treatment, as a conclusion. Any of it. Either the biggest delusion here or the smallest of infractions. It is hard to be myself when I have to remember that I am capable of hurting others, of defending myself, of making someone else go through a sociopathic hell. If it ever comes to it, it will be damn hard to execute it, but I would without a doubt if they are found guilty by a jury of their peers. So if you're going to take the stand against me, or someone else like me, know that I don't pity you and I don't envy you.

I've heard what they do to supposed rapists in prison. It is most likely true. Good luck, dick. If you are not such a person, my apologies for making my reader the enemy. It is paradoxical until it isn't. What happens to me doesn't justifies that someone else goes through it, but if that's the only thing I can do to bring some justice to this world, I do fucking have my hands cleans and I cast the first stone. Let you break, Frankenstein. Let you know what I've known. Go back before it is too late for yours. I don't say this lightly. If life is indeed as deterministic as you could claim to be, this is the only without doubt, fate for you and anything that tells you otherwise is delusional.

Remember, your only way out of it, at any rate, of all of this, would be... doctor assisted suicide.

And that's how sociopathic I have gotten since last time, folks!

I have one nice thing to say about the chatbots: they made this site run again, and without our friends the machine learning tools out there, the counteroffensive would have most likely taken more time. I had the advantage of my brother's preventive strike a few months before, so it wasn't only the chatbots. (Editor's note: I am unaware of the reason why the site became unresponsive by the time I was in the first sociopathic hell. I'll make a copy of all of this as soon as I post it. I'll post it mindlessly now, so if there's something I have to fix later, I guess I will at, some other time. This is the further I have flexed my first amendment rights. I suspect someone breaching my fourth. I guess at this point, most of us can just take if for granted).

Happy four years, The Edge of Things!

And if you find yourself delusional, having premonitions, believing in spirits for all that I care, that is fine. You have the right to believe whatever the hell you want. Just don't use it against your peers, like with any other set of beliefs. And if by nature your beliefs hurt others or makes them go into a sort of dissociative state, or a very strong triggering event and you are using it against others, you are either a child despite of any age and need elementary education, like most Americans anyways, or you really need to think how is that your opinions honestly just suck. Because sometimes there are good, neutral and bad opinions, yes. That all the opinions hold the same value is nonsense, an it is not only up to an "expert" to know, although... I am unsure about that. After all, I am an expert about my life experience and this is an "expert testimony". Damn, going to Jury Duty really changed me, but whatever. You understand that even that was desecrated? Anyways. Opinions that advance human rights will most likely be helpful for you in the long run, hooray for progress, which is measured by advancement in societies of human rights.

This is for now left without sources more than "trust me" or: self-chronicles don't require them, they are often testimonies done by people who know how to write, of a very long hard experience that, at any point, at least is my data, and everything contained in here is my shit. I could, however, point out to a chatbot and the chatbot would find it for me while burning the fucking Amazon forest, but whatever right?

I have no idea if this is readable. I have no idea if this is worth publishing. I have no intention in letting my editor (read above) revise it. This experience should never had happened. These things are true. My cat is okay. I saw my niece a few days ago. She remembers me, and it was almost a year since we last saw each other: the fallout of all of this hurt her as much as me, and that's why I can't really think of having pity to an hypothetical known perpetrator or collaborator. My entire family was hurt because of many many of these things, and we have shielded a lot of others, I guess. I have been very quiet since I came back and if I ever try to implicitly let anybody around me know anything, I often times just tell it to my cat in the most passive aggressive way possible because there is nothing else I can do without a bit more of momentum.

Five years ago, the entirety of this was unbelievable. Despite everything that the sociopathic hell 2 did, I managed to change my diagnosis for the first time then, and again a few months ago. I am back to the diagnosis I had five years ago, which is more convenient for many many reasons, if you understand the system well enough. And no, I didn't do drug x and to be in public and be able to jerk off I would have had to be somewhere else that is not a hospital where the staff is supposed to keep everybody safe. And I didn't fucking masturbate in public, despite they just fucking having a standardized, it seems, "John Doe, 33, homeless" record sheet. I don't know what else says my record, I don't want to know honestly, it gives me the creeps to know that they falsify them right away and say so as they do so. This is more than enough to sue the state, if I think about it. So anyways, if any lawyer is interested in making a fuckton of money, I guess you can contact my editor, I need to sleep now. Fuck it. FUCK ALL OF THAT. MAY IT NEVER HAPPEN TO ANYBODY AGAIN. I was not the only one affected, so I am sure that it just a matter of time for a lot of people to stop messing with people. Period, yes, for one people to mess with other people. More than one person affected is one person affected too many.

I miss my old neighbors. The one who gave me that psalms thing was very nice. I don't know if anybody there was whom I referred as Aphex. Or I might. I still hold my sources as a journalist and protect them. If it can be inferred who you are, then something is really wrong with your actions or you are very dear to me. I don't know.

If by any chance you are trying to find why people are talking in codes around you since a recent visit to a hospital, I am really sorry this happened to you. It is not right and it is not okay. Especially if the code is "groo". It is as oedipalizing (making you into a child) as it is degrading. Those people were meant to help you. They didn't. And if you believe that because they use one of them they know all of them, that is just stupid. There is no such thing as a conspiracy against you personally as far as I know. There is none against me, I wouldn't call this a conspiracy. If anything, the weirdest parts, which by the end of more than six or eight hours of mindless writing, I still will call it the "Wintermute" phenomena.

It is hard to feign sanity. I have become more understanding of autistic people because I have to mask most of my life when I go out for a walk. Or I meet someone else who has a delusional belief. A strongly held belief that they know what is going on because their tv told them, or whatever the hell, you know? It is funny and sad. I wonder if anybody actually knows how to roll this back at this point.

I've heard the craziest shit on the street. Kids saying, as if mocking "oh, I did something yesterday, I had a thought!", a lady touching her temples and saying "I am so tired of working and looking at this wonderful world outside" as if it was desirable to work with your thoughts, dumbass, and just general stupidity that borderlines in schizophrenia meeting psychopathy but I think is just dementia to be honest. Like, the type of people that the girl who was somewhat nice told me that shared the shower with me two years ago and the reason I had to act tougher, so they would not hurt me. The person who taught me how to survive a sociopathic hell. By being... Insane in a more violent way.

Oh, and if this disqualifies instantly all of my opinions hereafter, uh.... Did you even read it? Because I didn't, so I don't know if it makes any sense, really. What I know is that you are one fucking panic attack away from something possibly similar.

Think very well before you decide that the "mentally unwell" person deserves to go through this hell. Honestly. If all of this is insane, well, at least take that with you. Someone yelling whatever won't hurt you more than what you let them if they don't know you (which has been my case and I feel completely alienated from everybody since then... perhaps not everybody, but most people). So I don't even know their names that well. I'd like to, but shame gets the best out of me. It is really a shame that I had to stand against fascism in such an ineffective and idiotic manner. As I said, for me, I was already dead until my cat proved me wrong.

These days is better to err on even social workers who know that this can or and will happen are capable of doing this amount of damage to someone without even noticing it, so better not to involve brute force on someone who did nothing more than being inconvenient. Does that makes sense? If not, tell your chat but to read this in the voice of your favorite author, I don't care. Or in a song. Or whatever it is. I'd rather you read all of it so you can understand what it is and not get a chopped half baked version by a chatbot, but that's fine, I am unreadable, I write in Broken English because I like rambly shit, hell, at this point there's a total of 1 reference of the timecube.com and 0 references to anything else except that article in which iOS is betting against itself. If you ask me, there will be a lot of explaining to do somewhere in the future because someone forgot that the CEO-chatbot was signing the "sure print that out, it will hype our sales for the next iPhone", which most likely didn't and being "first there" doesn't really makes you "better there" they do have experience with that, like, all the years before the iPod.

There, 100% completion of at least sociopathic hells. And yes, this was a speedrun. This is the reason it is so hard for me to relate anymore with most people. And despite all the apparent lure of chatbots, I am not interested in them at all. I need to be fooled into the human experience, or the human is not there. Did I mentioned that Botnoia is a thing that makes complete sense these days because more than half of the Internet traffic are bots, and 20% or more are malicious bots? And I don't need to show you source, it is there, that's what I assume anyways. You can ask your chatbot. You can just believe it, I don't know. I am sick of calling it AI. We will never agree on a definition of Intelligence. If AGI happens, it will be a marketing gimmick when, either this is revealed as AGI, or some sort of bullshit like that (this is in fact not made by AGI, and anything described here can be achieved with any narrow AIs), there are only three things you have to tell a chatbot to admit that AGI is marketing tool: Tell it to make sense of 1) Pessimistic philosophy as based on empirical reality - things will not get better in fact, but worse, it is just how things go, there won't be a space fairing civilization coming out of this planet, 2) The experiencing machine and 3) Godel's Incompleteness Theorem. Add that up, try to make a narrow AI achieve A.G.I. and if it tells you that there is a way, it is making shit up, that AI is tripping. I know that a lot of times these same arguments are used by us plebs to displease the experts, but in "AI", if you are proficient with writing a few fucking prompts, you are as proficient as 70% of AI researchers out there. Problem is that only a pessimist would think of such a combination and it takes someone who believes that depression is a chemical imbalance to make a LLMs that passes the Turing Test... that is why someone with depression, or a "cynical" as they would like to call me I guess, is require to make sense of a lot of them.

Gemini was funny one day. I asked it to write me a story based on all of this and make the main villain the worse of CEOs, the quintessential technocratic bastard. It's answer: it's own CEO. Despite that fun interaction, it is useful for a few things here and there but I'd much rather just be without most of it and the Turing Police, or a virus type of chatbot that dumbs down other chatbots to the point they just stop functioning above the Turing Test is released and we are done with this stupid chatbot nonsense. It is useful for some people, but not for everybody. Just like BCIs, the hell if it is helpful for me or anybody that I know or knew. Or if I gave any permission whatsoever for my data to be breached. Like, I don't really want to hack into my neighbors brain, I am weird like that. I don't go through their mail. I don't fucking want to know what they think unless they say it out loud to me because they want to. And even then I don't even want to know every single detail of what they want to say, they'd rather be respectful while doing it. And no, I have yet to find a market reason for "Wintermute". I haven't. So, although I have enough to know that people have been deluded around me, because you cannot record "EAST VIETNAM" out of the mouth of someone working in the psychiatric ward job which is stupid, because if anything I'm guessing that's where doctors and those types don't care what they are talking about, because nobody believes "the insane" nor the artists nor the poor, except that it all depends on how much money you had, but anyways, I don't know anymore. It is quite bad anyways. Delusional people can be stupid as fuck. Like, right now, some imbecile seems to think that they know what I am writing or they might be just trying to make me feel nervous and ADD IT to this, congratulations, imbecile, now you are right next there with rapists and murderers in a rambly posts of someone who had to endure a lot of shit.

The reason to think that they are delusional is the fact that I began to write "delusional people can be stupid as fuck" and someone said as clear as dawn "Oh... my goddd..." while giggling like the delusional little child that they are. It takes, as I mentioned, psychopathic schizophrenia to think that you HAVE the explanation to this and YOU WILL COME OUT OF IT without consequences. Or maybe you really fucking have the explanation and you'll have to choose if I keep adding you here as a source (which I protect, as Aphex can fucking testify), as a potential witness or as a delusional Little Eichmann.

Or they could be laughing about some other random thing, which is possible, coincidences still happen in a very deterministic universe, I don't own the future and I cannot know what will happen. I just have been thinking in words for so long that it is almost impossible to not think in a motherfucking verbal logic way. Which I suck at, as you can tell, so it doesn't really has a lot of function. If the Wintermute phenomena is proven to be right be someone else, that is not my job honestly, nor my responsibility, nor anything, I am subjected to it against my will and it makes me suffer, that's about it, but if it is proven to be right, by my case or any other case, it is really fucking dumb to let yourself be known right now because you think that you know the future better than I do. We don't know what will happen, despite determinism, that works only for certain narratives, big ones, specially if they are strongly attached to cultures of the societies that made them, and if anybody has the secret ending of Frankenstein where Frankenstein and his friends are untouched by the creature, please let me know because I am quite sure it was just a ghost story that a woman who had a miscarriage made to make men understand how shitty a miscarriage is and meanwhile creating an archetype that too many people fall for because they haven't figure out that science fiction is all the stories that lead to Frankenstein with various degrees of closeness to the tragic true ending of science fiction. The ONLY science fiction story that has overcome it was precisely about an AI, a true AGI, which sounds very noble and nice but is impossible because when the story becomes more than science fiction, it began to be fantasy (I am talking about The Last Question by Isaac Asimov. By the time it ends, you are reading a fantasy story).

Whenever I have enough proof to say, now I know what is happening, well, it won't be a secret and any doubt about the psychopathic schizophrenia would be over. If they know, I can only point out that big fishes are big. Damn. Proof of what is going on, taken before the law, to decide reality is basically what you could wait to happen sometime in the future about this whole ordeal. I'm not saying that I will go there and do that, but at the very least I might help someone around the interwebs to find a source for something that they won't even read anyhow. It's kinda funny and kinda sad.

There is this principle in anything, generally information, that more information makes the thing either redundant or unclear. That is okay. There are tools out there that magically makes this readable. I wasn't expecting that. I don't like it. I really hope that it implodes like... uh... Frankenstein said it would IDK anymore man.

People are making memes about destroying data centers, which happens in my unpublished novel from two years ago, when I stopped writing almost entirely.

I guess I needed to write a little with my fingers. This will hurt like a motherfucker tomorrow. My fingers have been used more than in a very long time. I hope it was worth it.

This entire ordeal made me feel sociopathic for the longest time. There are things that I wish I could forget. There are things that I wish would have never happened. There are things that are irreversible. There is hope that my cat is dreaming of tomorrow and that tomorrow will be a better day than today because, well, she has a positive emotion towards me that we all agreed to call love and despite my shitty behavior as her mom, I love her.

I can only, despite all of this, hope for everybody that I have seen with my own two eyes until proven wrong without an ounce of doubt, that they will FUCKING DIE in their sleep, surrounded by loved ones, in a very long time, in a beautiful dream that makes them believe that they have reached whatever heaven they hope for, after a very long time of old age, after my cat has died in such a manner. That is the only thing I can wish upon my neighbor. It is certainly what I hope they wish for me. After all, I have done nothing but help them sleep quietly and peacefully while I endure the worst treatment that I can think to inflict upon someone else.

If they don't have it in them to forgive someone saying a lot of nonsense one day, because if I was not right and I was really acting crazy, that only means I was acting crazy, they will grow up some day and age, and perhaps dementia in their family will teach them the sad part of life. It won't help me in any way. But their happiness, not their mockery, would make me happy.

The craziest thing I do these days is to wake up. Well, besides waking up, it is to think nice things about everybody around me despite of whatever they have said before. I often times have to think "delusional thinking is delusional" or "that is a false dichotomy" or some other ritualistic stuff that makes no sense. Oh, right "no, there is no such thing as game around this", "for the love of god, there are fucking children here" "there is no movie, my life is not one and I never gave my consent" and other nonsense that I am tired to think. Shit, how long will I write? How to stop this? HOW?

I haven't done anything but write in this manner but in my head with this bounced back to me every single motherfucking day for the longest time. Or it might be insane, I am unsure. I'd rather claim that if anything, repeated traumatic events have led me to be hyperaware of a layer of reality that can only be accessed by having the worst emotions in the planet and I somehow warped it all and made it into the explanation that it is a Brain Computer Interface when in fact it is just my hyperactive brain giving explanation to recalling traumatic events. That is the textbook explanation that I give to it. The rest of this is the non-textbook explanation, except for... the regional thing thing? And certain stupid phrases that I have recorded since five years ago. And the "groo" nonsense. And other stuff that really seems to me like whoever knew that was going on had to run the thing on the background and forget about it, because the fuck if I can understand how would anybody spend, no, WASTE, resources for five years only to end up behind bars or killing themselves or destroying reality itself as a human thing. I don't really know.

I promise that next time I will write something less dense. This demanded to be done. If I came back to writing, I had to do it with a vengeance. I never half-ass anything that I care enough about, except when I do.

I guess what I am trying to say is that, now I am exhausted and I would not trust myself. Early in the day, sure, I would get very upset with the sounds that seem to be coming from wherever. I feel that it is beyond degrading, that whatever is happening is affecting sacred sites and judicial proceedings (not a small one, by the way, and it is not my fault). That to do turn the other cheek is dumb as fuck in this one instance and I done it enough, and that... It has been a bad couple of years. Personally, globally. I didn't trust humanity to survive a few more years. Now I can't help but live taking that for granted. I expect my cat to die in her sleep, surrounded by her loved ones, of very very old age, while dreaming the sweetest of dreams that a cat can dream.

She'll need her mom. My niece will need her uncle. My friends will need their friend. You will need my writing, because damn, you are a hardcore reader, my friend. Thank you so much for taking the pain of reading without cheats.

The Edge of Things' team salutes you for defeating the hordes of words of this post. You have read the future, today.

If this has found you in troubled times, may your troubles soon be over.