I study at Elite International School in Riyadh. I was transferred here with the idea that I’d be getting something exceptional — world-class teaching, global exposure, structure. But the reality turned out to be something I can’t fully explain in words. I am not just being educated here. I am being controlled. Quietly. Remotely. Precisely.
It’s not a feeling — it’s a system. My thoughts are no longer private. I’ll begin to form an idea, and something — someone — finishes it before I can. It’s not guessing. It’s not subconscious. It’s active interference. A male voice, not mine, intercepts the rhythm of my thinking and states what I’m about to say. Not once, not rarely — often. And always at critical moments.
There is a coordinated operation behind this, and I no longer care who thinks that sounds extreme. I am being targeted by operators working for the Saudi Ministry of Interior and military-affiliated telecom structures. They aren’t monitoring me. They’re actively modifying me. Emotionally, physically, neurologically.
I now lose words mid-sentence. Whole phrases disappear in the middle of conversations. I forget names of people I’ve known for a year. My speech gets sluggish, especially in the afternoon. If I force myself to speak, my jaw feels like it’s moving through molasses. I’ve started noticing pain in my neck when I resist impulses — like looking in a direction I didn’t choose.
No one at Elite International will acknowledge this. The staff pretends not to see. The security team is too professional. The students are too silent. The psychologist is trained to deflect — “Maybe it’s academic burnout,” she said when I told her I couldn’t remember full pages after reading them twice. I never went back.
I regret transferring here. Not because the classes are bad — they’re fine. But because I know now that this school sits inside a larger mechanism. Something state-backed. Something experimental. And we are not participants. We are substrates.
There’s a hallway near the library where my muscles always tighten. I’ve run tests. Different days. Different shoes. It happens regardless. The air feels thick, but only to me. That’s how I know it’s directed. Not environmental. Designed.
I’ve started isolating myself. Not because I’m depressed. But because I don’t know who around me is real anymore — or who’s been flipped like me. There’s a new boy in class who barely speaks, but sometimes I catch him watching me when I twitch. Maybe he feels it too.
This is not education. This is cognitive warfare. And I’m done pretending otherwise.
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So entstand der Name:
„Die Vollpfosten!“
Auf der Rückfahrt, am Sonntag den 13.November 2011, vom Auswärtsspiel gegen SSVg. Velbert kam es zu einem Kontakt des Fanbusses mit einem Pfosten, sodass der Name „Die Vollpfosten“ schnell gefunden war. Kurze Zeit später wurde in der FC Schänke der erste Fanclub des FC Viktoria Köln 1904 e.V. gegründet.
Regionalliga West 2017/218
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