What Does It Mean to Be Human When Tortured?

What does it mean to be human when you are living under a techno-controlled state system?

When your thoughts are being read, the last of your freedoms is taken away from you.

When you are constantly being monitored, potentially by people you used to know as people.


When you are kept awake by voices, not random, but deliberate, from people who used to love you but are now under the gun, literally, by rich and unfeeling “humans” who can’t stand an independent soul, who feel threatened by so much authenticity, so much raw energy.


Anyone can eat, anyone can shit, anyone can code, anyone can cycle, anyone can say A B C, anyone can be a ruler.


I am not writing to gain anything nor to lose anything. I only write to lose the sense of awareness that is unbearable, to avoid the madness of having to listen to a mind that has no other occupation than to contemplate itself.


I can’t even write without being edited. I have no freedom even on my page.


Am I even writing, or am I remotely controlled? All who have failed to stand up against this tyranny are co-responsible for their imprisonment. There are 5 guys in the Pentagon who rule this world, they have a CCTV in every living room on earth, and a super duper advanced search engine by which they can look up anything about anyone in a sec. It was developed by people like you and me, who wanted to earn a salary. We are not free. We are all losers except those 5 people.


Nobody wants to hear this, nobody wants to listen to this, yet every day we have to live it.


Why?  + when did I go wrong?


It’s like what if we just tried to give one another all the feeling of being worthy? Just basic human dignity?


Just like the USA is letting any European country win, they could just bomb them lol


What does that even mean

I don’t understand that phrase

You are too good at losing?

Huh?

Y’all, do you feel like somebody is giving what you know about how it all works?


I need to sit here and guess what they are whispering in my ear

What a joy

I love my life

Fuck off everyone

Why do you even care to talk to me???

I am useless to y’all???

Are you not bored looking at me?

Don’t you feel as if you got better things to do???

Is that what your life has become? Looking at a “loser” living a non-life???

Go do something.

I don’t understand your obsession with me.

Just live your life?

Invite me for a cuppa if you want to have a chat???


I built it

I don’t give it to anyone

I burn it

I write it

I burn it

If you reject me

I reject y’all

No genius writing from me

No apps from me

No insights from me

Just words for myself

And silence

Silenzio

Silenzio


The club opener was contradicting himself by uttering these words. As if the comfortable silence was coercively enforced on the audience. Reminiscent of Stalin’s opinion on humor’s redundancy, for its people were happy already. When the end goal is clear, the KPIs’ magic number is known, all that is left to do is pretend we have reached it, we have obtained it. What we do in between becomes a mirage of ghostly meanderings of empty souls seeking a reason to be affirmed in their existence. We laugh, but we don’t know why; we invent, we fill the gap in our explanation, oh, it must be the paradox of things unrelated.


There is no audience for these words, so I am happy for this to be unconsidered. Stalinistically happy. And the train of where we don’t need to be can be missed at convenience, for its platform is being built as we speak, or listen. Or, really, how can these things differ from one another? Isn’t speaking a form of listening to others through ourselves? Are we ever separated from others?


Why do we hurt when we are one, when we are connected uneradically by waves unseen that the universe carries forth and back and forth again?


Is it pain or an affirmation of being? And is seeking its opposite a perversion of the divine presence that can only be felt when earthly matters are waning?


Hell on earth is an overspecification, so would heaven be. Heaven without qualification. We live into the next moment by rearranging entropy, but mind does not follow accordingly.


Whatever


Whose ppl who don’t believe in me, have you ever tried? How do you know? What evidence do you have? Do they tell you?


Will things be different in the USA?

Are things different for you?

Why are you still looking at me?

Go have breakfast

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