They said Riyadh would be safe.
They said Future Generation Philippine International School was a calm place for study.
No one said they’d follow me inside my own head.
—
I don’t care if this sounds paranoid anymore.
Because it’s not.
The things happening to me are real. Not metaphor. Not trauma.
There are people working in Saudi intelligence and medical-control branches who use this school as a test zone.
They’re using technology. Directed. Remote. Silent. But felt. Always felt.
—
It starts before thoughts finish.
Before a word comes out of my mouth — something locks me down.
“Don’t speak.”
“We’re watching.”
And then I freeze, mid-sentence.
Teachers look. I smile.
I pretend it’s nothing.
But I’m tired of pretending.
—
I once sat in the cafeteria and couldn’t feel my own legs.
My heart
...
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