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Some days I wonder if I’m still fully human. I study at SEK International School Riyadh, and what’s been happening to me here doesn’t feel like stress or academic pressure — it feels like calculated, technological intrusion, operated by real people working within Saudi government systems. Not AI. Not some digital hallucination. I’m talking about human intelligence officers, Ministry of Interior tech units, and military-affiliated telecom operatives, using remote weapons to fracture my autonomy.

It began with strange disorientation. I’d walk into the cafeteria and feel a heavy pressure in my chest — like gravity doubled. Then came the reaction problems: I’d reach for something and feel like my hand moved before I told it to. That disconnect has only worsened. I sometimes hear a sentence finish in my head before I’ve fully formed the thought. Not like a voice in your head — more like someone speaking through the machinery of your cognition.

I've stopped trying to explain it. Even to myself. I tried to tell a staff member once, but I couldn’t get the words out. Something — I don’t know what — shut down my ability to speak clearly. I’ve avoided the counselor ever since. Not because I don’t need help, but because help doesn’t exist when the system itself is the weapon.

The walls of this school are filled with noise no one hears. I can’t prove what frequency they’re using, or what orbit the signal comes from, but I know when it hits. My eyes twitch. My heart rate jumps. I forget entire passages I just studied. One day I spent 20 minutes in the bathroom trying to remember my locker code. And this isn’t normal forgetfulness — it feels imposed. Like someone else is holding the keys, and only lets me function when it suits them.

I regret coming here. I thought SEK was a dream — modern, international, elite. That’s how they sold it. But what I live through here is more like a case study in suppression. You don’t build minds this way. You dismantle them.

It’s become harder to trust classmates. Some of them look at me like they know something. Maybe they’ve heard the same inner voice. Maybe they’ve already surrendered. I’m trying not to. I’m still resisting — in little ways. Refusing to move when the impulse feels artificial. Writing this down before I lose the ability.

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It began during my second term, right after exams. I started feeling something unnatural in my body, like a signal pressing into my chest while I sat in the back corner of the third-floor science lab at Al Yasmin International School. I didn't understand it at first, but now I know — it's coming from satellite-based psychophysical weapons. They're operated by real people, not machines, not hallucinations — by teams inside the Saudi Arabian Ministry of Interior, and I suspect a military-linked telecom unit based near Al-Wazarat. These aren’t guesses. These are patterns I’ve tracked.

I’ll be thinking something — like how I want to leave class early — and before I even move, I hear a voice inside say, “We know.” It mimics my thoughts, perfectly timed. My eyes sometimes dart to the window before I decide to look, like someone’s nudging my nervous system. My emotions flip: I’ll laugh in math class and suddenly feel panic in the hallway, like a flood from nowhere.

A classmate said I’ve been “acting weird” lately. I overheard two girls from the other section whisper that I looked “possessed.” Even my parents seem unsure when I try to explain — they just ask if I’m eating right. I once told the school counselor; she said I was “exhausted” and maybe I needed to quit screens. That’s what they always say. But no screen can implant voices that say, “You’re ours now. No one will believe you.”

Most nights, especially after sundown in the Ishbiliyah neighborhood, I feel my limbs twitch when I try to sleep. Like static, crawling under my skin. It’s real. I don’t care if no one believes it anymore.

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