As part of the ongoing noise campaign against me, I’ve been neuro-linguistically programmed by certain taps on the ceiling. I hear these taps everywhere I go: People tapping their knives and forks, people tapping their phones, people knocking on tables. They do it in a very specific rhythm. Yes, I am being followed. Yes, I am being stalked. It’s hard to accept and sad but true. I even hear it on the walls in my partners (and therefore, so does she). Because I’ve been sensitized to it, nobody else notices it out in the open. This has been going on for maybe a year, subtly at first, but over-the-top now. I know I’m not going crazy because of two things: the timing and the frequency. It might not sound like a lot to deal with, but make no mistake, a relentless pattern of noise torture 24/7 can be a killer, quickly grinding down an individual’s will to live. It’s a reminder that one is under constant surveillance and threat, promoting a state of constant fear and anxiety. Sometimes, it wakes us up at two or three in the morning, harsh and insistent, then continues to keep us awake throughout the night. Depriving someone of sleep is a cruel tactic of the devil’s minions, it has profound negative effects, and is all plausibly deniable. Long-term daily harassment is a cancer of mankind. I took a noise diary testimony and letter to the council but they fobbed me off. I’ve tried speaking with the neighbours: they either play dumb or don’t answer the door. They seemed like a nice family at first. Being harassed out in public is one thing, but inside your own home is another. One of the ways I’ve tried to deprogram myself is to make light of it, and pretend it’s The Borrowers, tap dancing. The ball is in my court: How do I react? I’ve been sitting on this question for some time. They are conspiring to bring an element of prolonged suffering to my life and those around me. The natural reaction is to throttle them when they answer the door, and that’s the real issue here: losing sight of who you really are. They want you to react violently. And guess who’ll then be losing their liberty? Yeah, me. Not them but me. I’ve not helped myself in the past. Addictions have left me vulnerable. I’ve simply lay back and took this on the chin with no reply for far too long. Now, I feel as if I’m growing, as if their evil efforts are chiselling my true character out. This has to be a fight, otherwise it’s a walkover. Walkovers have very bad endings. I don’t fight them because I will win... I fight them because they are gang stalkers.