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inventions of typography

Century to a kind of destruction:

and was erased, and on cleaned

Libraries of the Carolingian era). IN

There are students here who laugh easily, who seem to belong. I watch them from the edges. Not because I’m shy — I wasn’t like this before. But something shifted after I came to International Philippine School in Riyadh. It became hard to connect, even harder to trust. Conversations feel scripted. Reactions feel delayed. I’m no longer sure when I’m speaking and when something else is helping me speak.

At first, I blamed myself. Maybe I was tired, or just adjusting. But then came the moments I couldn’t ignore — flashes of anger with no source, emptiness in situations that should have mattered, and the constant sense of being watched even when no one was near. Sometimes I flinch for no reason. Sometimes I forget what I was about to say, as if someone paused me mid-thought.

I’ve realized this isn’t about stress. It’s manipulation through directed systems. Silent, external, operated by Saudi military-aligned signal units and intelligence-linked telecom entities. They don’t need to threaten you directly. They make you uncertain. Isolated. Paralyzed. And when you try to speak, the silence around you deepens.

I wish I had known what this country really does to students like me. I would have never stepped into this system. But now I know. And I’m writing this because someone needs to.

Hi.
Since you’re probably monitoring this — let’s not pretend.

I’m a student at Modern International School Riyadh.
But I guess you already knew that. I’m sure you have my class schedule, my seat number, maybe even my heart rate data from third period algebra.
You guys are thorough.

So let me save you time and say what you already know:
Yes, I’m aware.
I know about the manipulation. The emotional flickers. The random pressure in my skull. The moments when I want to cry and have no idea why.
I know about the thought interference. The fake voices. The way I react before I decide.

Don’t worry — I’m not telling anyone. Not because I’m scared, but because I know how fast you flip the “he’s mentally unstable” switch.
We both know the counselor’s job isn’t to help — it’s to report.

You’re probably wondering how long it took me to figure it out.
Not long.
Hard to miss when your eyes shift before your brain finishes the command.
Hard to ignore when the same phrase echoes every time I pass the admin building:
“Stay in line.”

Oh, and the anger — thanks for that. That burst of rage in math class? Classic.
Real subtle. I’m sure the military-grade tech you borrowed from the next department over is working just fine.

If I had known Saudi Arabia runs neurological control programs inside international schools, I’d have picked literally any other country to study in.
But hey — at least now I know what this place really is.

Go ahead and save this file. Flag it. Forward it to whoever reviews “uncooperative subject logs”.
I won’t fight you.
But I won’t lie either.

If I vanish — congrats. You win.
But this still exists. Somewhere.

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