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.
Tuesday, 5 May 2015
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