# 10, Monday On the contrary I feel the most free when you hack me. I have no more fear. I have nothing to hide. You can’t control me. I notice everything. I see all. Somebody hacked me and switched my Wordpress site to soggypaperbag today. May I never forget. Not even for one second, what this evil does. What they have done to me. What they all have agreed to do. What they are not afraid to do. What I miss about those times though: a Macbook where I just have to long press on a word and it gives me an immediate definition. Currently reading The Panopticon. No idea what conkers means. The resistance to google a word as opposed to the speed of just long pressing. Think about it. Such Darwinian evolutionary bullshit. It’s so banal no one bats an eye. What even more for alienation experiences of one person they can’t relate to. There’s no justice. Capitalism is bad, but everyone’s just trying to make do with it. Trying to survive. At any cost. People are evil every day. No one cares. People do evil to weaker others all the time. No one does anything. Where can you possibly find recourse? God? The idea that you are a deity? That you are special exactly because you’re suffering? In no other way another human has ever possibly suffered? Tell that to all other “schizos” who harbor gangstalking “delusions.” No one false positive is going to count. Every now and then the rose-colored glasses fall off and you catch a momentary glimpse of the real world. The one where we’re all animals. Sophisticated, but still animals. Horrifying gore to watch adult animals feed off on the vulnerable, young, old, slow. Everyone just tries to ignore this crude and horrifying truth, that given the chance to do evil, they will. They always will. They don’t even need a reason. Just curiosity. The very fire of creativity bent towards darkness. See a fontanel, bore holes into it and ignore the screams. See a wound? Rub it raw until you reach bone with your teeth. Smells, rotten, compost, new life. Nothing new under the sun. Well then. You’ve reached the end of the test. You’re free to call us any time. We’ll repay you in the next life. You’ll be beautiful this time. Who cares if I’m not original. Alphane Moon. Stranger Things. Panopticon stories. Gangstalking. The idea of a lived experience account being so banal it’s lost in a sea of true crime stories because people still have that propensity to be entertained by other people’s misfortunes. People stick their business into other people’s all the time. Horror poetics. Diary of Anne Frank. The horrifying sterile truths your body lives through in absence of real blood, or tears, or wounds, or physical force. Just temporal invisible clean cuts. Idea: Disability in mental illness sense is inseparable from trauma. Idea 2: Start writing specfic poetry Idea 3: A story about bedrotting and becoming a meme on Inter-universe Got Talent Idea 4: A Story about going to another country and going to their version of Watson’s and buying just one overpriced facial moisturizer. The mini twist is that this particular bottle was bewitched. This group of reactors are censored or silenced particularly because the product they used is so useful to that society.