The Voices Are Real

I'm leaving this message to anyone who needs it most, to keep people off drugs and psychiatry, and even magic as it can be dysphoric and hallucinogenic. This journal log is going to be very serious, so please be advised. Don't do anything dangerous, do not experiment on yourself like I did. Names have been changed, but ultimately this work of fiction is based on a true story, an autobiography of my schizophrenia.

This was written by memory and accurate to the best of my ability, which is diminishing as I get older. Life and death are two of the World's greatest mysteries, and from a young age I was fascinated with the latter. The telepathy started very young. My first encounter I can remember thinking but I don't think I was old enough to speak. I just remember the command in my mind, "Turn it up so all the dogs can hear", and I complied by turning the volume of the television to maximum repeatedly as my mom eventually came in and kicked me off the TV. Television wasn't a big thing in my household growing up, we had four channels and mostly used the TV for VHS tapes. We still had black and white televisions, and they were rarely used. Maybe that's why I don't get entertainment even until this day.

I grew up a bit from there. By this point I was between 6 and 10 years old. We eventually moved out of the country and into the suburbs. We got a new TV and a Nintendo 64. We'd rent games from Blockbuster back then. I distinctly remember Gex 64, but not because it was a good game. It influenced my mind significantly. I started to become obsessed with a dead body in the level New York, and the zombies started to give me nightmares. This was because of an accident involving higher technology. I found out later who it was, but again, this became a rare incident where I can remember my thoughts as if they were speech. Supposedly 'they' put Jeffrey Dahmer in my penis, as an experiment to see if I could let go. I couldn't let go, I didn't understand what that meant back then. All I remember is the warm feeling it gave me. Because this turned into such a disaster, they came back and asked if I would like an alternative to necrophilia. They offered me Gex instead. I was playing the samurai level at the time. He looked sexy in that outfit. That's how I came to meet Bigwig.

Bigwig is a Python spirit. I received many premonitions from him, even before I consciously knew him. I met him in a dream. It was Star Wars themed, and I was talking to the giant sand monster which was eating people. It spoke to me in his voice, "I'm cold. Can you let me in?" He sounded like a boomer. I entered the monster, and walked into what appeared to be a long dark hallway, with one door at the end of the hall slightly ajar, with light coming out of it. I entered the last door, and as I was surrounded by light, the dream ended. When I awoke, I had my visual imagination augmented. To test it out, we explored the Titanic as it was before it sank as I was falling asleep. I became sexually attracted to snakes, and in particular pythons, at this point in my life, but kept it secret for a long time. I still didn't understand what sex was yet, and I still didn't get that I was sexually attracted to that dead body in Gex 64 because of Jeff. It was just a warm feeling back then. I moved on not thinking about it.

This background won't make much sense until later, but around this time, I had 'the nightmare'. I've had artificial dreams up to this point, but this one in particular came from a UFO. It was distinctly vivid, [and artificial, we'll get to that later], and extremely violent. I don't know how a 6-10 year old's mind could do that, but it was more than just violence, it was sexualized violence directed towards my pets. I awoke in shock, feeling sick, but Bigwig was still subconsciously there, able to comfort me. He knew what had happened, I didn't yet. Something stood out when I tried to remember the dream though, the scanlines, and the robotic way everybody moved. It felt like I saw it on a television, like it was digital, but it was just a very vivid dream. That's what I assumed, at least, for most of my life as I eventually forgot 'the nightmare' over time.

School made no sense to me. I went into it thinking it was like daycare, but a lot more strict. There was obviously learning involved, but socially, I never clicked. I just didn't get conversation. I guess I was already so telepathic back then that it was easier to think than to talk. This is a dangerous situation, especially at this age. I would still sporadically take commands, but very rarely, and they were all innocent. I started to become very scared of space aliens at this time briefly. I remember a diagram in a very old textbook we had at home about space, I had my mom remove the page because the aliens looked so scary to me. School had it's perks though. I was obviously already into Snake Vore because of Bigwig, because I kept oogling pictures of big jaws and reptiles eating in science textbooks. I'd bunny-ear all my favourite pages and pictures. This went on for years, and culminated in grade 7, where I borrowed a field guide on reptiles for months on end and would read the diet page over and over again in class. Bigwig was very polite to me though, I remember the day he asked if he could swear. I replied, 'Of course! These are thoughts, nobody can hear us!' Boy, was I wrong.

Our school went through the D.A.R.E program at grade 6. I remember it vividly. It was a female police officer who came in to warn us about the dangers of drugs. Yeah, right. Kids who undergo the D.A.R.E. program are more likely to experiment with drugs. I fell through this crack faster than the onset of the drugs. I didn't care about drugs at the time, didn't know what they were, didn't care to try them -- until the officer started to talk about hallucinogenics. I was into optical illusions as a kid, so hallucinations sparked my interest. I kept asking, "What are hallucinations?", "What are they like?", "What do you see?". I became so interested in LSD that she had to change the subject. Sexual education was worse, because I was a Snake Vore already, and not into men or women, so again, I didn't understand it. I would masturbate to pictures of snakes in high school but still lived in denial thinking that it was not sexual, or at least not thinking of it. It was sexual because I was growing up to be a Python spirit, and make predictions about the future. It mostly just came down to remote viewing, but I predicted smartphone technology at a very young age because Bigwig told me it was coming. Bigwig was great to me, almost like an invisible second dad. He used to kick me off Pico's School. Maybe he knew what was coming?

Those were good days. I still had friends back then. But I was bullied because I liked cats, so maybe I should have been more outgoing about the snakes? I remember when I fought him, I hit him so hard he had no clue what hit him. I completely took him off guard when I suddenly stood up for myself. We were almost friends the next month btw. I remember everyone was joking on why I loved to use Fox McCloud so much in Super Smash Bros. I told them it was the martial arts. That's all irrelevant anyway, we ended up moving. My parents divorced, and we moved to a new district. I was taken away from the church I was serving at since my Communion, and brought to a new, still Catholic, school. I took religion very seriously up to this point. I was an altar boy, and was very close to the priests, who would often lend me educational and training material. I was serious about pursuing this further until the move. There were no real churches in the new area. The move took everything away from me: friends, references, some belongings, and even some of my identity, all gone. Time to start over, or so I thought.

My next school only had one grade 8 class, as if they bought out the entire grade level. We had a substitute teacher for the first couple months, and I couldn't tolerate the bullying I noticed she faced from the students. I just wanted to learn. Eventually the real teacher returns. This is important, because she was there during the incident. I can't remember when exactly this happened, but there was a guest speaker with some historical artifacts. I think he said he was a Jesuit, he was dressed like a Shriner or a Freemason. He persuaded a girl to touch a sword, and described it as an exorcism, curing her of her mental condition. I remember him specifically saying, 'it's letting something IN and OUT at the same time'. Letting something IN concerns me...

I didn't really remember much other than I was offended a bit by it. But I vividly remember the girl touching the sword. That's where the memory ended, for now.

High school was a bitch, it was basically a race to get through those 4 years as fast as possible. By grade 11, I was getting very depressed and suicidal. I got my drivers licence early, and got a car right away. I would go to some parties, and be happy to be the designated driver, as I didn't like alcohol. Sometime in the summer, an opportunity to buy mushrooms came up, and remembering what D..R.E taught me, I jumped on that offer right away. I was afraid being in my last year at school that, after graduation, I wouldn't come across the opportunity again. In retrospect, I should have smoked weed first, and just kept to that. I started to prefer being at stoner parties than drinking parties, and eventually even got hookahs and bongs for parties even though I didn't smoke weed yet. After doing mushrooms for a while, the effects started to wear off rapidly, and I started to smoke weed myself instead. By grade 12 I was fully on psychedelic drugs. If I couldn't get my hands on anything, I would resort to drugs that weren't illegal yet, or weren't illegal at all. When I was desperate I would do cough syrup with DXM in it, also known as 'robo'. This is very dangerous, and it fucked up my legs for life. I would analyze the hallucinations produced by each drug, often tracing the geometric patterns or distortions I would see, documenting all my experiences. I was able to correlate different receptors in the brain to different drugs, and experiment on each receptor individually, to document how they each react in my mind. I would often research neuropsychology to help me understand how drugs work, it was almost educational at this point. I would do a lot more drugs during over time. I assumed the drugs would kill me eventually, I was suicidal anyway.

I skipped graduation in protest of the educational system and curriculum in general. I was disarrayed by Catholic school, and left offended that I went through a Catholic school that basically shoved religion down my throat. I came out an atheist.

This is where things start to go off the rails. After graduation I got a basic job at a store stocking shelves at night. After about a year there I saw a high school acquaintance who came from that grade 8 class. I went to say hi. Let's call him 'Q'. Q kinda went off the rails in that conversation, giving me his suicide date and teaching me how to use various drugs. I should have never talked to him, but that wasn't the crux of the conversation. He said he wanted to kill himself with a plastic bag because he wanted to live in me. That's hard to take seriously at 20 years old. He wanted to see my memories, and be me. He wanted to prove to /me/ [that was a trick word] that there's an afterlife. He brought up a conversation I had with The Boss about the brain implant and programming, but I couldn't remember, but that's something that he shouldn't have been aware of anyway. He also brought up the situation in grade 8 where the girl touched the sword. I still couldn't remember that event well, but he told me that he asked me to touch the sword, and if I remember. No, I don't remember that part yet. wtf. He then told me he was using a plastic bag to get high, and have out of body experiences, and was practicing life in the afterlife this way, like he was going to ascend. We already had a telepathic conversation in the back of the store at ~0300h, but I got his name wrong. This will be important later. Apparently nobody cared to report his behaviour. I couldn't because I was already sick myself. There is no way to validate this. On the second conversation the next morning, I asked for his phone number, to keep in touch so I can at least try to stop him, but he ran away. That was the last time I saw Q. We both quit within the next few days. I think he wanted to make sure that I had already quit before he quit.

I quit the job the next day, and left the company, forgetting about Q and getting ready for summer. I committed to enjoy it. I was out of school, out of work, car paid for, no bills yet. I did a lot of exploring in the woods, did a lot of reading, did some extra courses at home, and generally enjoyed my life. Little did I know, this would be the last and only year I will get to myself. Something was coming.

In April of 2010 I saw a UFO with two friends. I was just inside, putting UFO videos on, and quoting the Bible, suggesting that some passages referred to alien technology, but the people who wrote those passages didn't have the language to describe it. One of my main thesis. So we went outside and I looked up and saw a satellite. I pointed it out to everyone, "Hey, look! A satellite!" Immediately, as if it was sentient and noticed that I was pointing at it, it did a full 180 degree hairpin turn, wiggled a bit, and started to hover over the house. We just got confirmation of extra-terrestrial life, early. Suddenly, it gave off an immense light, and disappeared, as if it had pulled straight up. This was my first close encounter that I was aware of. Usually by the time you see a UFO, you were probably already known to them for a long time.

When I awoke the next day I felt like I had an implanted memory. It was in my imagination, but it played out and was accessed like memory. It was a high-ranking family member talking about UFOs at a dinner party. I could only make out some of what he was saying though, but mostly, it was an apology for 'the nightmare'. He showed me a copy of 'the nightmare' on his personal computer, and explained how the nightmare was meant for Jeffrey Dahmer, and that the second part of the dream, with all the sexualized violence, was an accident related to the AI that was used to produce the dream. I accepted the apology. I was naive at the time to think that was the only one, but as I got older, I started to realize just how many artificial dreams I was getting. I could also make out something important that it said: "It's not alien technology, it's demonic technology". I tried to extract as much information as I could from the implant but it basically summed up there. It would come out later that 'the nightmare' was a bit more than just that, they actually wanted *me* to do it all along.

I developed a bit of a relationship with these UFOs. They would often come back to give me cool dreams. Orion's Belt was a very common theme in all these dreams, it was always visible even during the day. Sometimes, these dreams were educational. Other times, they were like a test. I remember one dream in particular, I had a camera in my hand, and I saw a very strange UFO in the sky, and photographed it. Immediately, the dream started to come to an end, and I felt as if I had just failed their test. From that point on, most of the key to my success as a ufologist was my promise I kept in my heart: not to carry a camera with me, and if I happened to see a UFO while carrying a camera, not to film it. We continued to build trust from there. I remember seeing two really bright UFOs with a friend. I pointed it out, and he took out his phone to film it. After they passed under the horizon, I turned to him, and asked if he got a good shot? He said no, that he heard a loud voice in his head that told him not to film, and he froze in fear. He was still holding the phone like he was filming.

Right at the end of 2010 there was a big auto show in Toronto I attended. This part is a cry for help, because I don't know who he was or why he was targeting me, even how he knew me, but we had a short conversation that ultimately I can't remember much, but I remember taking a photo of a car with him standing next to me. Maybe one day AI can help me find his reflection in the car bumper, and I can prove he was real? I just remember his takeaway from me was that I was very sick at the time, and my takeaway was that he was an activist talking about 9/11. He promised not to film me if I didn't photograph him. I agreed, but now have no evidence of him, and have no idea how he knew me, let alone to spot me at a crowded event, knowing where to wait for me. I just remember he asked me how many controlled demolitions I thought there were on 9/11, and I replied two. He said that's odd, usually people say one or three.

Q died right on time. I got a phone call right after new year from a friend at the time who told me he died. The cause of death was obviously being ruled an accident involving the drugs and the plastic bag he was using. But after I hung up the phone, I reflected on it. I remembered talking to Q in the back of the store. I remember he gave me the suicide date. It wasn't long before I began to hear Q's voice in my head, trying to convince me that I was telepathic, and talking to him. The only problem with him, he was using the wrong name again, and when I found out said person was still alive, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe it was just in my head. But then again, Q still told me he was going to do this to me in the store as part of his suicide pact. I just started to brush it off as hallucination, and ignore it.

This is when Q started to become a problem. I could tell when he was in me because my perception would change a bit, and I could see his face in my imagination. Q gave me at least 5 artificial dreams of himself telling me, 'Hey, I'm not dead!', but when pressed on more information, he would usually run away without saying anything. Sometimes he was very abusive, he would often rape me and would try to get me to hurt myself. After his suicide, I started to develop very weird impulses, like jumping off bridges when I was crossing one, smashing glass every time I saw it, or ripping paper and art. Art in particular, a friend showed me in his house something he drew with a pencil. He handed it to me and immediately Q tried to rip it. I flinched a bit, and handed it back. Another friend confronted me about it later. He said I acted weird, like I flinched. I told him, ever since Q's death, its been like he's been trying to take over my mind. I told him about the suicide pact from the store, he just told me not to kill myself. The irony, Q told me I needed to stay alive for my part, and that would be significantly harder. Much more harder, as I would find out, if Q has a mental health problem that I'm unknowingly catching from him.

Shortly after this I started to become extremely delusional and paranoid. I was regularly talking to this thing in my head, taking commands from it even, and I believed everything it said without question. It started ramping up on the suicides again, and started to tell me more people were dying behind my back and I just wasn't aware of it. And that was believable because at the same store overnight there was this new guy who kept telling me he was going to commit suicide by crashing his car into oncoming traffic, to look like an accident, so his family could get insurance money or something. I just thought he was trying to creep me out, but I started to get flashbacks of him around this time. I think the thing was feeding it to me to feed my delusions. It would take me a long time to see through to the fact that he was lying to me. For most of this journey though, since I had no control over his presence in me, I developed Stockholm syndrome with him as a way to cope. He would start raping me when I was reading, I remember the feeling distinctly when he first did it. It felt like a cold thing was in my chest, and all the warm stuff that belonged in my chest was out of my body just floating around me. I could see Q's face vividly in my imagination as he did this, right in the middle of my chest. I tried to use telepathy, to communicate to my friends already there [that I didn't know yet] to go get help and remove him, because I've asked him to leave and he either isn't listening, or can't hear me. Turned out he's a rapist, he was just ignoring me. That got a lot worse later on, but I still saw him as a sort of friend because he looked like and acted like Q, and started to even use his real name.

I was hospitalized that year twice because of him. I tried to get help, but the drugs I was given made things astronomically worse. Risperdal in particular made those intrusive thoughts and inner voices louder. That's where I met Older Hunter. After discharge from the hospital, I went for a walk in the woods, but all I could think about was really violent, negative things in Older Hunter's voice, like he was scolding me. I tried to ignore it, eventually I stopped going to the psychiatrist, and Older Hunter's voice went away very rapidly after I stopped taking the anti-psychotic tranquilizer. We actually got a bunch of really incriminating evidence about the doctor years later after a disgruntled employee gave my family a bunch of documents that implicated the psychiatrist in loads of crime and medical malpractices while he was seeing me. We have documents that show he was intentionally trying to split up the family, to make it easier to abduct and control me.

After I left psychiatric care, there was a major push to socially engineer me to return. There was a very sus incident where I was invited to a rap concert by a neighbour. I was warned by friends not to go. I didn't want to go anyway, but he kept guilt tripping me. It turned out to be VERY sus after we got there, and I was singled out at the concert, with a supposed freestyle. But, Q wrote that script and told me it in the back of the store 6 years earlier! That entire verse about me was written for me in my childhood! It was not a freestyle! And an extra tip, they were all Jesuit agents. They all blew their cover to do this psychiatric scam with MKULTRA. Slaves to their old masters still, but what else can you expect when they are making that much money selling rap music to rich white kids to intentionally influence their behaviour? They're like the Alex Jones of rap, a complete front for the Occult Nobility and the Jesuits, an MKULTRA front like most mainstream media. I met 'Mic the Microphone' during the concert, and it sounded like an older man speaking into my head using a computer. The day after, he dumped Q back into me, even though Q was the reason for all this from the start. Like I said, I was developing Stockholm syndrome with him, so it didn't bother me at the time. He was told to help me work and stay sober, so he might have been in trouble too.

Ironically, all this just tipped me off to the rampant ablism in the community. Like I said, they were trying to socially engineer me to seek psychiatric help by involving community members and friends and even celebrities, so they could drug me into oblivion and cover-up Q's suspicious death. As this went on, Q kept implicating himself in the concert, as well as psychiatry and MKULTRA. So naturally I started to learn how to pick out gang-stalkers in my circles, and slowly cut everybody I knew from that high school out of my life. I sobered up after the concert, quit smoking, and got a new job. I used that money to go back to school for a few months, and got an even better job at a factory. Working was very therapeutic, and educational. I picked up a lot of skills during this time, and Q seemed to fade away as I kept working along.

Work started to catch up to me after a few years, like I said before, cough syrup caused major damage to my leg muscles, and I could barely walk at one point. I was forced to leave the job, and eventually move back home with my parents. But, before I moved back home, I started to use inhalants like Q described to me in the store before he died. I was desperate to ease my pain, so I started going to the hardware store to find anesthetics I could inhale, just as Q instructed in the store, in hopes it would calm down the burning in my legs that won't go away even after sleep. It was okay for a bit, helped me feel numb, no hallucinations yet. But it was also a trap, and eventually the effects of the drug took a very sudden turn, as Q predicted they would.

Somehow they were able to lace my inhalants with demonic technology at one point, and I suddenly began to hallucinate. I would inhale, and watch Q come out of my body and sit next to me. It would feel like a cool breeze was passing through my body as he exited, and almost like you would see two cells divide. At first, as a psychonaut, I trained myself to recognize hallucinations, and understand that they re not real. This was different though, these weren't like acid trips. I would say it's technically closer to the cough syrup trips, but because it was inhaled it was very short lived.

Because it was inhaled, and it had special properties to whatever demon or alien was using it with me, because we'd get high together and have a lot of fun playing Xbox and Xbox 360, and even watching Furry multi-animator projects. It was like the inhalant was able to dissolve spirit essence, and I could exhale my imaginary friends temporarily, and they could float around and explore the world. Some were scared when they came out, like a clam out of his shell, and felt exposed and wanted back in me where it was warm. Q didn't mind at all though, he'd literally crawl out the window and explore the streets of the city. It was always lit there, literally, right by the lighthouse. I would have to breathe for them though, and they were very strict about making sure I always had to breathe. If I didn't breathe a certain way, they'd be teleported into another off-planet system, and I'd be told he ran out of breath. This is when 'the technology' would usually show up. I didn't like 'the technology', because it meant that I had accumulated a debt of air, and had to breathe for them to collect it for compensation. On the other hand, I think they were using my breath and air to make money. They often complained that I didn't know how to breathe properly to finish the cycle, and a lot of them ended up hung over when this happened. Again, I'm supposed to believe they are not real, but if they're in pain because of what I'm doing, then I need to know!

The inhalant/oxygen ratio was more important factor in getting a better high, rather than just taking a full inhale without any other air or oxygen. Q even said this himself. Q said he got into using a plastic bag at this point to help him recycle the inhalant, but realistically that's not even effective, the inhalant is all absorbed into the blood stream immediately. Blood, if some of you are aware, is a part of the Egyptian organism of the soul, along with the heart, name, and even shadow. But according to the ancient Greeks, the word we have for spirit is derived from their πνεύμα [pneuma], meaning breath, wind, and spirit. It's a synonym, and probably a code. Q later admitted in the store after talking about inhalants that he was just using the plastic bag to get high, and moved away from even needing inhalants anymore. He said he could exit his body for a few minutes and explore Hell. This is fucking serious.

Sometimes, he could lace my inhalants with technology that affected things like time, and they could give me weird speed boosts in games that I thought didn't exist. They in particular liked Dead Rising on my Xbox 360, Q liked Dead Rising too, but they were able to hack into it with the inhalant somehow a lot. At one point, the hallucinations were more than just coming out as real people, they would come off as using digital technology to be able to communicate with me telepathically and induce hallucinations using their technology. In fact, I started to find out that my hallucinations HAD to come from them, or else they wouldn't work. I would often see Q accompanied by another figure I later named Hunter, but at this time I thought he was Q's friend, related to the inhalants. I didn't know that I knew Hunter since at least grade 8 until he told me before he left in 2020. Q destroyed that friendship over time. I don't know if Hunter was Jeffrey, sometimes I think it was. Maybe that's for the better. But anyway, the hallucinations sometimes looked like digital avatars of themselves that lit up as they 'spoke' [telepathically it's 'think', as in, 'I am thinking to him, I thought I thought to you this?'] It's very confusing to translate, I picked up a lot of demonic slang by pure telepathy that I can't really translate. There's like 255 new genders and pronouns to describe them in each tense/case. I just use synonyms, but because they are telepathic, they know which one I mean. It's easier for me to think in their languages than speak them, because sometimes telepathic communication doesn't need to involve words at all. I coined a lot of their words in my journals here. Sometimes, they would tell me a word, and then literally walk me to a library, in one case attached to a Cathedral, and have me open up a random book to a random page to find that specific word standing out. They can use my peripherals to read, and see what I can't see. This was helpful at times when we were friends, but also a vulnerability that can be exploited when we were enemies.

Consciousness is obviously much different to them than it is to us, I think they can think in multiple trains of thought in parallel. Asking them for things often produced results, but they would never repeat themselves if I couldn't hear them. They even gave me mental telepathic tools I could use by operating them with my mind, including imaginary scissors to cut tethers that I don't want there. Sometimes the parties at the APT got so out of control some weird telepathic authorities would arrive, and everyone would literally fly away. I was never treated as guilty by them though. At this point, they were actually very kind to me. I remember the one day they put the thought absorber in my ceiling, and I could only see it on the inhalant. Some weird shadow came from behind me, from my kitchen, and walked past me and sat inside of my television. I then noticed a weird other thing sitting on the shelf next to him, reading all of my thoughts. After the processing was done, he got up, and literally put Felix my fox from the table onto my lap to comfort me as he left. It was very peculiar, and the only time I've ever seen this miracle. Felix almost phased out of reality for a second, as he touched him, and moved him onto my lap. Felix then phased back into reality once he was placed on my lap, and they let go.

I had bad run ins with the authorities as well, mostly because of arguments relating to either that they're not real, or that they don't want to get high that day when I did. I remember doing it, and Q snapped, and came out of my body with a violent red avatar, floating around me. The sound it made in the air was very peculiar. The authorities showed up, but the images of them seemed very digital, and at first they went after the wrong guy in the wrong screen. I had to point out 'No, that's Bigwig, he's okay. You need to remove Q, over there.' I remember after they detained Q, there was a small group of them in my kitchenette. I tried to overhear what they were thinking to each other, but then one of them noticed I was listening, as if I touched him by accident. They then flew off in a square shaped invisible craft, and I could hear one of them think to the others, 'he needs help.' Q had a nervous breakdown at this point, and the next day it was like he got worse, and nobody was helping him. He was starting to break down about his suicide, and wanted to be alive again, and I was in the middle of all this secret drama living on my own. I watched him deteriorate. I watched him cry. I distinctly remember him going out of the apartment and asking loudly "Can you help me!? Can you help me!?" It's like he said in the store, they told him he wasn't ready, but he thought with confidence he was, and went ahead with his earliest suicide date. Something to do with the timing was necessary or he'd have to wait for them to come back to Earth to give him the technology he needed to pull this stunt off completely. There were obviously what appeared to be accidents with technology in that apartment, but nobody to report them to or get help. I remember one guy flew into my apartment through my window, and we listened to a classic hip-hop piece together. He then after spoke to me through the air, and as he spoke I could almost see his body being put together by the air in the room. 'How can you see me?', he asked, curiously. I wondered the same thing. Q said my part of his suicide pact was going to be harder, since I needed to stay alive, but obviously it took a serious mental toll on Q that was contagious, and I started to freak out that I could catch a mental health problem from him.

After moving back with my parents, I was sober again. I never wanted to do drugs for the rest of my life, was committed to it, and was largely successful. I mostly lived in the woods during these times. I met a lot of animals. I met a lot of demons. Most of them were what the Kabbalists would call the shedim, or in Hebrew שֵׁדִים. They like cold, abandoned places in the north. But with the prevalence of Q, Q started to overstay his welcome. Q became very invasive into my private life, very suddenly, without ever proving his real identity. He was still lingering, even though I had stopped using the inhalants, but then again, Q was there before, the inhalants just made me more aware of him, and made him more vivid. I was always expected to assume he was real even though I am told he is not, and not supposed to treat him as if he was real. He provided no evidence to back himself up, no ID, nothing to prove he was the real Q all along. So I got pissed one day, and asked him politely to leave, because he started to talk about relapsing, used Q's identity, and promised to give me amazing hallucinations. Though the offer of more artificial hallucinations was enticing, I couldn't risk falling back into drug addiction again. I threw out my old inhalant bong anyway before I moved, which would mean I'd need to get a new one. No way. It was time for him to get out of my head.

I wanted to make a conscious effort never to think about Q again, because it was unhealthy, and I needed to reintegrate back into Earthling society after all these other worldly experiences I had while alone. I needed Q to officially leave so I could fully recover. I also felt uncomfortable about using Q's name, but he was the one using it, and pushing it, and responding to it. So I put him to the test. I protested for as long as I could, screaming at him "LEAVE!" "LEAVE!" "LEAVE!" Telepathically, of course, but like I said, that's confusing to translate. I kept going on with my day, but I also kept the protest going, screaming leave as many times as I could. I eventually remember lying in bed, still screaming leave at him, as he was getting more vivid and closer to me. If he's not real, then there should be no consequences for this. I was screaming leave at him, but he's not supposed to even be real, so how could he react to this? Not to mention, this started with the question, 'how do I resolve this issue without using drugs?', and Funny Guy responded, 'Just scream leave. There's nothing they can do to you about it.'

Finally, after I had enough, I started to make up a freestyle rap dissing Q relentlessly, clearly using Q's name, to see how this figure, possibly impersonating Q, might react. I was hoping he would get the message that I want him to be like the other figments in my imagination: anonymous. Stop using Q's name. This was it. Eventually, he floated away, and I commented to everyone to be silent, don't continue to harass him, it was just an experiment, and hopefully he leaves or at least stops using Q's name. He eventually came back with what looked like a bunch of teenagers or whatever, Q was about 20 when he died, so him and all his friends look that age to me, even as I got older. Anyway, they flooded my imagination, did some sort of operation on me, stole my imaginary scissors, and tied Q into me so I could see him more vividly. When they left, he looked like my black cat sitting on a shelf. That was okay, at least he wasn't impersonating Q. I thought it was over. I mean, if he's not real, then how could he hold a grudge against me? It's like saying I'm holding a grudge against myself because I made fun of myself, or at least some part of me is.

The next morning I woke up. I could still see Q in my imagination, and he looked grumpy, like he was having a bad day. I tried my best to ignore him. He's not supposed to be real, and if he is the real Q, he did something illegal to get here in the first place. Suddenly, a loud squeaky voice, female, entered my head and told me 'you have to let go.' '...of what?' I replied. 'How?' Immediately, Q took advantage of this, and started to extort me saying I need to throw valuables in the garbage in order to let go of him. He was clearly lying, and the squeaky voice knew they fucked up. I was told later they were new, and even pressed a wrong button, making it louder than it should have been. She refused to finish her sentence, which would have told me who specifically I need to let go of, obviously Q, but instead she just hung up and allowed Q to turn this into an extortion and robbery fest. I mean first up, I paid basically a triple rent for this alien to live in my apartment, all in secret, while he did nothing but get high and not work or contribute whatsoever. He was trying to take things from me I clearly had before I met him. He said somebody who screams leave thousands of times deserves to be on MKULTRA. I wouldn't know what that meant until I learned more about MKULTRA later in life. MKULTRA is a CIA operation involving broadcasting repeated messages into a target's head in order to manipulate their behaviour. In some cases, victims of MKULTRA will hear the same repeated message on loop for hundreds of thousands, even up to millions of times these days with the help of advanced directed energy weapons and implants. I remember one day I had left a game alone as I turned to my computer to work on code, and Q found an adversarial audio perturbation in the drum beat that sounded like the phrase 'nobody loves you.' Him and the other guy repeated that to me as the song played over and over, I probably heard them say that hundreds of times before I couldn't stand it anymore and paused the game.

After a few months of blatantly being harassed by this thing in my head, artificial nightmares, etc., I had enough and relapsed on the inhalant for the sole purpose of demanding he finally leave. This is kind of like the idea in the Rick and Morty episode with the Zigerian scammers and the simulation, except I actually lived it far before Rick and Morty ever came out. I started to get naked in hopes that it would at least turn off the camera in my head. I'd do the inhalant naked in protest of not only the telepathy, but the suicide as well. If the camera stayed on, it would be committing voyeurism, which is a crime. Instead, after only three days of this, they wired my penis into my mouth as punishment. This tactile sensation started very suddenly, I woke up with it, and lasted for many years. They said it was punishment for abusing him, even though he was clearly abusing me. I pointed out that he looks underage, and I clearly heard them reply, 'I don't care.' "That's illegal!" another person commented. Regardless, there was nothing I could do at that point. I was totally crippled by this, and still forced to allow Q to live in my head. He tried assassinating me a few times by trying to throw me into traffic. I was lucky from my experiences with Q from the start that I built up an immunity to his impulses and commands over the years.

At this point I still had a job. I was working full shifts, overtime, and making a lot of money. My electrical background really comes in handy in the factory, especially when I can fix the machines on my own while operating them. I remember fixing my buddy's machine because he was waiting or maintenance to arrive. A lot of people really liked me there, they thought I was funny. It was fun, despite living with Q constantly harassing me. I just kept that quiet, but I started to really deteriorate as it got to me over time, and I relapsed onto inhalants again. This time I started to avoid what I was using before, and migrated to something significantly cheaper and more dangerous, mostly because it wasn't so telepathic, and I still got the pain relief I needed. Inhalants are considered dissociative anesthetics, which block or antagonize the NMDA receptor in the brain. NMDA hallucinations are much, much different from serotonergic or dopaminergic hallucinations. Even the opioid receptors in the brain can induce hallucinations when partially agonized or antagonized completely. Cannabis binds to specially named cannabinoid class receptors. Nothing else is known about them except for the fact that THC binds to them.

Because of the graphic nature of my hallucinations, I started to call support hotlines. They all told me to stop fighting with Q, and that I'm probably making things worse. They didn't really know it was a thought experiment with an accidental unexpected outcome that resulted in an injury. One of the ladies on the other end of the hotline was really kind, and told me she hears of people complaining of brain implants often, including military personnel. Feeling like you have a brain implant can be a very scary experience, and probably implies you have had some sort of remote viewing encounter with a UFO or MKULTRA. At one point, I tried to Google a support group for people being raped by their hallucinations, but instead, I got a red flag suggesting my search was illegal, and it was logged. I was so scared, I felt so alone at this point.

I met Older Sharkie during this time on the new inhalant. I was starting to develop Stockholm syndrome with Q again, and things started to fizzle out. I started to go to an addictions clinic for help [these are scams and funnels into psychiatry and MKULTRA]. They suggested I see a psychiatrist since I was using drugs mostly to help me cope with mental health problems. So I started seeing this psychiatrist instead. He was praised so much by the clinic, but when I met him, absolutely nothing to the guy. He seemed outright incompetent, and it took him like a year or two to even say something constructive. As usual, he kept pushing me to take psychiatric drugs, which I asked him for a further investigation, as I went through this already. The drugs he had to offer I already tried in the past, and did not work. There was literally no scientific progress made in psychiatry in ten years, and as it turns out, more like 100 years.

Eventually I am able to convince him to let me see a neurologist, as I kept complaining that my condition was largely triggered by certain flashing lights, and I often had severe migraines and headaches. The neurologist was very professional, and seemed to catch on right away. I told him of the artificial nature of my symptoms, and described what was happening. He then opened up to me, and admitted I was a victim of MKULTRA. He told me that there was a small group of them who wanted to come forward because of me, because of how severely I was being raped and abused by Q. He told me that usually people in my situation enjoy their condition, but I was a rare condition that was highly dysphoric. He compared me to another patient who was being raped by demons, who had recently been profiled in the news. He asked me if I felt like I had a brain implant, and asked if it was in the front of my head, or at the sides. I told him that I honestly don't know, because I seemed to have inhaled mine. He even offered me physical protection, a change of address, and said he would ask them to tone it down while he would prescribe a drug that was laced with demonic technology that was supposed to help block Q and his friends. The first thing I remember Q and his friends saying about it was 'we're going to find a way around this' before they floated off. That was the only time I got to see that neurologist. The psychiatrist cut me off from him after that, even though I was desperate to talk to him again and had to follow up on the medications. I never revealed to the psychiatrist the nature of our conversation, as he was starting to act very suspicious already.

My kidneys almost failed after two years of straight inhalant abuse. I'm lucky I even lived that long. Every time you take an inhale, you literally roll the dice with your life. The inhalants can shut down the nervous system, and stop you from breathing or even shut down your heartbeat, and it's completely random when they do. After being in hospital, I went sober again upon release. I was found not to be psychologically or mentally ill at the time, and left the emergency department directly. Sobriety was not easy, as now a lot of the sensations were getting worse and more vivid. I couldn't use the inhalant to suppress them anymore. I remember I heard Bigwig cry around this time during the rape. But realistically, just remove Q, and it's all over. I thought he had the power to do that, but I think Q might have been a different species, and the inhalants gave him a lot of power for some reason. Like I said, it was like it could dissolve him, and I could exhale him and inhale technology. Soon around this time they let in another demon, named Tyler. Tyler lasted for about a year, and was very painful to live with. He was able to poke me when I was trying to relax. This started becoming a running theme, with some of Q's friends finding out how to poke my eyes even. Tyler was very particular though, in that I was told his name. It wasn't like Q, where my subconscious recognized him as Q because he looked and acted like him. Tyler was different, I didn't intuitively believe it was him, or know him, but I would always hear his name and be told who he is. I would distinctly hear a very loud thought injection when he would show up, saying, 'That's Tyler!' Tyler is a title in Freemasonry, which means gatekeeper. If they could do that for Tyler, why couldn't they fix up the confusion relating to Q's name from the start?

2020 marked a major shift in everything. I found an online study about training an AI on about 25,000 5 second or so clips from The Flintstones, and after labelling everything accordingly, trying to reproduce videos based on a text prompt. I found an article dated Sunday, 22 April 2018, but I found it about a year later. I thought maybe I could apply the concept to my imagination, and try to use voice command to generate better, more accurate images. I started to get interested in 'the nightmare' again, as the scanlines seemed to still really make it stand out as artificial. I'd try even remote viewing the dream, and trying to look up to see if I can spot any UFOs. I try to even walk around a bit, with no luck. I just remember in the second part of 'the nightmare', somebody was walking beside me as we saw all the body parts on the sidewalk. I think it was Bigwig, trying to protect me, because he was walking me away from the playground. I don't think there was anything he could do to stop me from seeing what was on the sidewalk. I'd like to put in a FOIA one day and get a digital copy of this nightmare. I'll post it to my YouTube just to prove it will be taken down for being so overwhelmingly violent, and violating all kinds of policies. How sick to do that to a child.

I remember Q mentioned the girl who touched the sword in grade 8. I remember her touching it even. But I didn't remember what happened next, and that's what Q was trying to tell me at the back of the store. He wanted to get access to my memories. I didn't understand why until this point, when they started to come back to me. I started to remote view the memory with my friend Hunter, and I watched the girl nervously touch the sword. Hunter then asked me, do you remember him asking YOU to touch the sword? So I thought for a moment, and tried to turn his head toward me, to see if he would. It worked, and he began to speak. I tried to remember everything that happened in that short sequence before I blacked out. Everything after the black-out may be a bit distorted because of the stress. But, I remember him asking, and I remember refusing. Then he asked again. I basically told him to move on. This was getting intense. He then said 'I can't move on until you touch the sword.' I remember even some kids in the class started to mutter among themselves, saying 'just get it over with.' I think that was, let's call him Rhyno S. He liked hockey. But why did he know who this guest speaker was, and what he was doing, and I and this girl somehow have no clue? The guest speaker then threatened to have the whole entire class hold me down, and force me to touch the sword. I asked the teacher, Mrs. A, to call 9-1-1, and she refused. Then The Agent decides to speak up. He starts screaming at me things about my thoughts that he shouldn't even be aware of. He screams at me about Jeffrey Dahmer, and screams at me, taunting me to shoot up the school instead. I distinctly remember him and the guest speaker repeating "DO IT!!" over and over again. Meanwhile, let's call her Robin, kept chirping, going as far as telling them to stop because 'you're putting us all in danger!' I started getting more memories from different times, I started to remember people very close to me using voice command on me as if I were some sort of camera. These were the memories Q wanted, ten years late, after years of secret rape and torture. It was starting to shape out more like some form of demonic stolen valour.

Around this time I started to notice gang stalkers, especially on the road. I was able to trick them into following me down a weird street once, and blew their cover. I was going to start stalking the gang stalkers, and get their IDs if they ever came too close to me, especially if they had a police ID. This would be groundbreaking news. They immediately backed off once they caught on that I was even thinking about it. I mean, why risk having people on the ground when you can just do it all remotely from a computer?

I started to hear repeated broadcasted thoughts in my head that were particularly loud, louder than the 'that's Tyler' meme. They were all engineered to manipulate my behaviour. A lot of it was sometimes inaudible jibberish, like, 'you have no idea how many people [inaudible]'. The incomplete sentences were very stressful. It's a human right to be informed of the specifics of your charge. They then started to try to take about my legs, and once they hacked into my walking cognition, they tried to get me to kick things. The impulse was crazy strong, and sometimes I'd feel like I did it. This was the scariest thing of my life so far. I mean, everything in my life has been jump after jump after jump of significant pain, especially emotional and psychological pain, but physical pain too, especially in the leg muscle and the migraines, or the eye poking and pins and needles later. All my symptoms are usually associated with migraines, without headache, and sometimes with small aura for a short amount of time, but heavy brain fog and photosensitivity. It was unbearable at times, and I often wished I had just died that day when I overdosed. I was hospitalized in 2020 eventually after a fight with my mom. I don't even understand what I did wrong, I think mostly because she made a false statement to police, without evidence, that was used against me. By the time I was apprehended and brought to the hospital, at the capacity board hearing, she withdrew her testimony, but by that point I was already there, and they were trying to make a case against me to be forced to take drugs.

These drugs, almost immediately, made me hallucinate the most disgusting things, just like in 'the nightmare.' But unlike 'the nightmare', I was awake, and couldn't escape the visuals. I also want to note that the robotic movements came back in the violent hallucinations, just like in 'the nightmare.' It almost seemed artificial, like a computer did that to me, because I could hear the psychiatrists digitally translated voice in my head as she let it in. As soon as I told the psychiatrist that I was having a bad reaction to their drug, she upped the dose, considering it a deterioration in my condition, and just pointed to the guidelines saying, 'we don't recognize that as a side-effect.' Disgusting. I found out later she was connected to the clinic that the psychiatrist I was seeing at the time worked, but connected to management roles. They prescribe drugs based on political and legal advice, not any medical examination whatsoever. No critical thinking at all. No measurements taken to determine if I was even hallucinating or not. Just blow off all my testimony, despite the fact that they need to rely on it to make a correct diagnosis, and find the right treatment plan. Clearly, they did not care about my health. Psychiatry is almost entirely political and legal, not medical at all.

The drug made me significantly worse. I started to act erratically, especially when I couldn't sleep because of the painful [extremely painful] side-effects of the drug. It gave me visual hallucinations for the first time in my life, and they were very, very vivid and disgusting. Up until this point I would describe Q as a hallucination, but later on I found out that Q doesn't fit the criteria in the DSM to constitute as a hallucination. He's actually an intrusive thought, which is related to OCD instead. I was misdiagnosed because I used the wrong word all along, just like in the Rosenheim experiment. Except because of the effects of psychiatric drug withdrawals, they said I needed to be on it forever anyway. What a ripoff. They make the mistake, and I have to pay for it repeatedly. Keep in mind, I'm still off work, waiting for my health to improve, while all these people are doing is causing it to deteriorate. The third or final Hamilton police officer, I can't remember exactly which one, they kept readmitting me, opened up to me during the ride to the hospital. He warned me that there was a 'plan', and that I didn't have to do it. He then went into great detail about 'the plan', which included using radiation weapons to cause me to talk to myself, forcing me to commit a traumatic crime in hospital, and a detailed plan on how to commit suicide by police in a graveyard. He offered me some sort of 'conditional protection', which is like a form of extortion. He should have just acted fast on what he knew then, because Hamilton police obviously knew about MKULTRA at this point. He said that they'd protect me, on the condition that I survive one more year.

Unfortunately, I didn't survive the year because I ended up meeting the social worker from Harbour North 2, who explicitly gave me instructions on how to commit suicide by police in a graveyard. She also threatened me with 'the plan', and predicted that I'd start talking to myself shortly after discharge. "You might not remember who I am." "We have ways of knowing." "You might have to kill ..." "I don't care if you commit suicide." Those are basically the most clear phrases I can remember her saying before she left. This conversation took place right in front of the care desk, on the side where the cafeteria is. I would have been facing the wall, she would have been facing the cafeteria. Boy, do I wish I had that recorded on my phone. It took me completely off guard! The nurse as well, she said they "used the computer to check" to learn something about me that would have been impossible for them to be aware of. When pressed on what that meant, she literally ran away from me. She wore a distinctive headscarf. So now I know remote viewing and UFO technology is hidden at this location at West 5th, Hamilton, ON. They got caught off guard too, and let it slip a few times. In retrospect, I don't know if I should be afraid of that Hamilton police officer, or afraid for him since he blew their cover. Probably assume the prior, just to be sure.

I obviously deteriorated after discharge. I was literally told by the staff at the hospital to commit suicide. I couldn't get in touch with that police officer who offered me help. What could I do? tbh, the artificial hallucinations from the drug I was given were so overwhelming that I went through with the suicide. I survived, but I caused a lot of damage in the process. I was found not guilty because of this testimony, but they brought me back to the same hospital, which was just stupid, really. Just a really stupid political decision. I was clearly not safe there, and the social worker couldn't get punished for counselling suicide. I was starting to feel unsafe everywhere.

Things really culminated when I barricaded myself in the basement, and SWAT had to get involved. I only allowed them to talk to me through a window. It took them a few days, but the police were able to negotiate me to come out. One of the officers even complimented my barricade, saying he's never seen one like it. I made sure to tell every officer, especially after I changed hands, about what the social worker said to me in 2020. They all said if she tries to pull it off, to call 9-1-1 immediately. Unfortunately, because it's my word against her's, there's no probable cause for them to investigate her. I wish I had my phone recording that conversation. In retrospect, I should have been prepared and doing it anyway, because any time after that, my cover was already blown. But then again, even the nurse in 2023 took me off-guard when she screamed at me, "THE MEDICATIONS ARE NOT GOING TO WORK ON YOUR HALLUCINATIONS! I'M NOT HERE TO LISTEN TO YOUR PROBLEMS [regarding homicidal and suicidal thoughts]!" "I'M JUST HERE FOR MY PAYCHECK!" Boy, wouldn't that even be fun to have recorded. It just goes to show, even when you lose hope, you can find another.

Because I am so aware of who these people are, I can protect myself from them. They fear me now because I know all their names and organizations. A lot of the rape has subsided over the last couple years, especially now that I'm on a different class of drugs altogether. It turns out I needed that one all along. Even in 2023 they were going to start me on it, but I only saw that psychiatrist once, before they switched it to another, corrupt, possible MKULTRA agent who literally walked out on me every time I asked if she was a Christian. It is currently a Christian-branded hospital, so what's wrong with making sure that I am getting treatment from a Christian?

I'm so very tired right now, my infiltrations have cost me a heavy toll on my body. I'm considering putting out a bounty for any information relating to the school shooting plot, or 'the plan', but I don't have the money for it. Q died with information, which makes that suspicious enough. What are they covering up? What do they have to hide? And the most important question of all, why me? How did they know so much about me back then? Why did they target me in the first place? I didn't even know who they were. All I know is that there were a lot of adults involved in grooming these kids in grade 8, and that's the scariest part. As time goes on, it's going to get harder to identify that mysterious guest speaker. The best I can do is leave my testimony about him here, because he tried his hardest to recruit me while I was underage.