I suppose we each travel through life with our own sets of deep truths. I came into life with something like memory of another existence, which at an early age (age 2-3) made the walls and limits seem clearly funny or particular to me, by some clear comparison of knowledge, though I could not recall the other existence I was comparing this to. A few years later (age 6) I became aware of a memory from this other existence that could only come through as a type of story. Over and over I would play this story to myself while lying in bed at night during this age. I understood that it was a memory, but that it was encoded — heavily influenced by the Veil (common term for the bardo or phase of forgetfulness that supposedly occurs between incarnations) and my young mind’s symbolism (in order to be communicated the memory/message had to work with the limited symbols and concepts of this life that I had collected up to that age) –it was more like a memory imprint that could be activated/replayed in different ways. There were various ways to tell the story, but the underlying knowns were that I had embarked on some kind of mission, with my Family/Friends wishing me well (that was always a poignant bit, feeling this deep affinity for people I didn’t recognize but knew were my truest Friends)…those were the frame of the message, with the meat being: I was to try to always remember that I was serving a purpose, no matter how daunting the journey might become, and I would return Home again.

I would go on to experience a handful of mystical experiences, but mainly perfectly typical growing up experiences up through teenagerhood. Impressions like the sort of hero/mission story related above remained sort of primal truths underneath my everyday experiences (after all, mystical experiences are those which entail an expanded perspective and consciousness, such that many mundane truths become succinctly irrelevant). I wasn’t anxious, yet on some level I had always been waiting for the huge challenge that those mission memories had spoken to me about. It seems like I waited for so long that  I eventually got a little sleepy…

Because suddenly I’m shaken awake by run-ins with covert harassment and  gang stalking. Not quite what I had in mind, but then again, who does?

The following is mostly a sparse outline of the events of those 4-5 years before I had enough knowledge to regain some real composure. I guess that’s just another way of saying I’ve seen some pretty fucked up stuff that I leave out more because of the volume of such experiences, than that most people would simply not (be able to) believe me. I do believe that covert harassment is one symptom of one phase of a very natural growth cycle (at least it has been to me), so if you’re interested, check out the blog or Things I Know For Sure to see how the gang stalking events fit into a larger context for me.

On to the list of symptoms (as TIs, it seems we each have our own mixture of these ).

I’ve experienced many of the same things that other targets have, though I’m sure some are less common as well. If you are a target please do not go looking for these other symptoms, as suggestion is a powerful tool sometimes wielded in the form of a sensationalist website (and sometimes well-meaningly by a TI trying to understand the pieces s/he has been dealt) -If it doesn’t apply, it doesn’t apply. Some of the items of covert harassment I have experienced are:

• covert drugging
• rape
• constant negative suggestions (some hypnotic during the covert drugging) related to fear, self-doubt and generally geared to fuck up my perceptions of reality.
• home invasion while gone and while asleep (in the latter various props have been left next to me while I sleep).
• gaslighting, such as objects being moved around my home, as well as verbal forms… with the intent to cause confusion and disorder within the mind of a target
• street theater acted out by 120+ participants (as many as a dozen at a time)
• stalking/betrayal by friends I once trusted who enacted a years-long covert attack of their own
• police and medical professional involvement
• walking into various traps set by stranger-stalkers and once trusted friends, which endangered my life, but have also been part of a larger education (some sharing of which is what this site is all about)

In 2004 while on a trip to visit friends in Austin, TX, I was covertly drugged, interrogated, raped and -well- tortured in various ways, involving physical but mainly psychological forms of abuse. Before the drugging, I was taunted with what were then meaningless clues about the imminent trap my friends were setting me up for. Because I’d known some of them for more than a few years I trusted them and thought their odd foreshadowing comments and snickering remarks were not aimed at me. The way they were seemingly goading each other led me to believe it was inside jokes or at least didn’t pertain to me. Of course the feigned innocuous nature was deliberately projected so as not to alert my ‘alarm systems’ that something was wrong.

At one point I was asked to join a newer acquaintance at his apartment just down the street, and verified that my known friends would be showing up shortly. They didn’t show up until I was already so drugged that their participation in torturing me seemed like a vague dream until many weeks after the following events.

I was drugged with xanax in a cup of coffee. Over a period of three days (two different events) I was repeatedly drugged with alternating doses of xanax, meth-amphetamine and strong hallucinogens which, judging from the extreme hallucinations and feelings of doom, I can only assume was something like overdose levels of PCP. This went on for three days total, which was actually split up into two different trips to Austin.

During these druggings, as the lightest form of harassment, I was made to act out all kinds of stupid human tricks (to dance suggestively, or act out embarrassing scenes, they got really creative with various ways to humiliate me). I was made to say inflammatory things about various ethnic, political and other groups. The agenda here was to use footage of these remarks to sign me up for harassment from militant factions of such special interest groups, I can only piece together by the accusatory remarks made to me by strangers, months later, relating to these themes (these manufactured prejudices).

I was interrogated and plied with all manner of hypnotic suggestion –all of which revolving around self doubt and general feelings of doom and fear. Many of these interrogations were bullshit plays where they had me say things I don’t remember and wouldn’t willing have said, that have only become clear in the MANY repeated themes and such used during street theater events. The perpetrators would constantly threaten and scare me using words, physical torture and adding psychological catalysts toward these ends wherever possible.

For example, I would be blindfolded while interrogated, to try to gain even more influence over my perceptions and mental state. During the most intense hallucinations I would be fed hypnotic suggestions just so they could see how they could influence the hallucinations toward ever more terrifying proportions. They alternated xanax and speed as a kind of chemical gaslighting and way to speed the breaking down of my natural defenses. (no, I don’t remember taking any of these drugs, but judging from what I do remember they got me to do anything and everything they wanted just short of giving in to their suggestions ot kill myself in front of them.) The speed would increase the fear responses, while the xanax allowed them to push the extremes of terrorism even further. This in itself was gaslighting, a way to induce great confusion: when my senses told me I was in danger I was fed more xanax which as an anti-anxiety drug created a conflicting set of input. This kind of chemical gaslighting is the perfect stage –state of conflict and weakness- in which to perform a proper mind hack operation.

There’s really no point in detailing all of the tactics used and specific events, but in short, I was systematically probed, tested and attempts were made to condition me in various ways. There were props in the form of themed music and recorded voice messages they would play to create the effect that they were speaking to me telepathically. One largely themes set of props were funeral related in order to add depth to the many plays that were performed for my benefit.

All sorts of ‘plays’ were acted out around me to induce fear and confusion. They would act out mirroring versions of what they gathered about my beliefs and such during their interrogations. They tried to get me to kill myself and I was given the means to do this. Though of course that did not happen, one such play involved my friends blindfolding a very doped me and then talking me through ‘my death’ complete with various messages about how I’m getting what I deserve and am dying alone, etc. Then I was put through a mock afterlife scenario complete with props of funeral vase and flowers, etc. I was made to think that I’d died and was now a ghost made to revisit all the misdeeds I’d done in my life. Some of these ‘misdeeds’ were elaborated on from true events they thought I felt guilty about, but many were purely manufactured.

I was also sexually abused and then taunted with remarks about what all they’d done to me and ‘how willing I’d been’ to participate, etc.

When I was finally allowed to detox from the repeated drugging I found myself walking around trying to remember what had happened. It’s difficult to explain to anyone who has not experienced these kinds of drugs, but though I became somewhat conscious several times, I never had any awareness that I was missing time. I only had lingering confusion and repressed feelings about the torture, which would be countered by pretended kindness and inclusion whenever I became more conscious. –they would invite me to participate in conversation and then nearly immediately turn to love-hate-love types of messages geared to confuse and tear a person down. Though to outside perspective I may even have seemed highly animated and lucid, at the most conscious times all I recall is the room looking over-exposed and wavering between manic extremes and larger bouts of terror. I believe these ‘manic’ states are when the more believably ‘damning’ footage of coerced inflammatory statements was recorded. It wasn’t until several days later that I started remembering the blacked out periods of time. This recovering of memories lasted for several months afterward. I do not recall the large majority of time spent there, and I don’t have a particular desire to because what I needed to know my higher self supplied in the form of symbolism. Don’t get me wrong, there was a long period of time (several months) where my mind chewed at these edges of memory. I tried to be open to recovering memories, at the same time being firm with myself to keep moving forward. But I get ahead of my story…

When I found myself walking around the apartment where all this had taken place, the remaining perpetrators kept repeating cryptically themed poems and taunting me. At one point as I’m trying to gather my senses I commented that I might call the police, to which they responded with maniacal laughter. I left on foot because conveniently my car had been loaned to one of the friends before these events, Ml knowing full well what was in store for me had played this part along with all her other contributions toward tormenting me.

As I walked I tried to remember what had happened. It takes a lot to make me cry from negative events (likelier to cry for other reasons), yet as I walked along the street unable to find my way out of the labyrinthine sub-division I noticed tears streaming down my face as I tried to figure out what I was going to do. Everywhere I looked the world was surreal and I was fighting all the fucked up suggestions about having died or pushed into the twilight zone or some shit, there was no one to be seen though I walked for over 30 minutes. I tried to make it to a phone but finally had to approach houses until someone answered.

When the police showed up they made me sit in the back of a cop car and overhear their derogatory remarks. I’d told them that I’d been drugged and abused, but wasn’t allowed to say anymore –they just stopped listening and formed a group of cops standing behind the car making comments. Though that was all I’d told them they commented “sounds like some Manson family stuff” and other themes that had been brought up during the drugging events. They said,”should we let her show us where it happened?” Another responded, “naw, she won’t remember”. I did remember, but was not encouraged to show them, and I did not press the issue because my main priority was getting medical attention.

The police liaison woman who showed up made a point of prolonging my sitting in the car until I was practically begging for medical attention. At the hospital where I was subjected to a rape examination this police liaison woman sat there before and after the exam beaming these malicious grins at me (at the time I thought, oh well, a fucked up reaction to a stressful situation). Every time I was left alone in the exam room sitting naked with only the flimsy hospital gown on, people would walk by outside the room and slam their fists against the glass window causing me to jump from fright. When I asked the nurse about this, she came up with some lame excuse about the sounds being from people opening a set of doors. I *saw* the fists, I also saw the doors and they were no where near the room I’d been in.

I also heard the taunting voices of the ‘friends’ coming from the waiting room. Here more of the weird hypnosis programming crap unfolded too. I was sitting there trying to remember (this constant reaching for the black holes, trying to remember some horrible truth about myself that was about to be revealed to everyone) … fearing that I’d killed someone or something –that I’d done something terrible– and was going to be thrown in prison or lynched or some such. I kept hearing their voices -in a very usual physical way, not memories. When I told the nurse she kept assuring me there was ‘no one out there’. I was made to walk half-naked down the public hallway to pee in a cup. On my way to the bathroom I passed the waiting room and saw one guy from earlier in the evening just sitting there staring at me. This very well could have been V2K. I’ve experienced this very real sound projected so as to nearly accurately mimic the acoustics of a room even -I’ve experienced this a few different times, but it has not been an ongoing phenomenon. I think this is partly because the hearing/verbal/language portion of my gear (my mind/body matrix) is not a weak point (it’s very strong compared to my relative emotional retardation, for example, and why they tried to tie my mind in knots while being emotionally abusive (I tend to be quick thinking, but literal and slow to see emotional attacks because I am so preoccupied with looking at all the informational pieces)), so those kinds of attacks/experiments were discontinued, but I’ll leave theories about types and economy of targeting for another time.

After blood was taken, a cop standing outside my room was talking to the nurse and said something about sending some of my blood to [some first name].

My friends, Ml and Cl (participants), repeatedly tried to visit me and were already busy spreading disinformation to my family members who they were in phone contact with. When my mother and aunt drove from Houston to pick me up, Ml left my car in the hospital parking lot with a note that said something like, “I hope you’re okay. We all did a lot of speed last night”.  During the two weeks that followed these friends plied me with confusing accounts of what had happened, implying that I’d drank too much or smoked too much weed and had been a real pain to babysit. Of course this didn’t make any sense, but everyone I called to ask verified some similar story. I was assigned a rape detective and though I jumped through all their hoops and she [the rape detective] pretended to care and that she would help me figure out what happened, it was all just a huge farce. She refused to help me get information and several months later called me to say there was no case because she’d talked to the perps and believed their stories over mine. She even repeated some themed lines that were exactly what the perps had said to me. So the rape kit was never examined and nothing came of trying to work the ‘proper channels’.

Two weeks after this event I went back to Austin to try and get some answers since no one was helping me. Not yet remembering clearer bits where the two closest friends were involved, I believed I was relatively safe, or that it didn’t matter as much as finding answers. I carefully approached and during daylight and near an open door I felt safe to ask some questions. I did not know yet that I’d been drugged the first round with laced coffee, so after the innocent seeming discussion went on for a while I guess I reached for the coffee they all seemed to be drinking. For anyone to whom this sounds like a stupid move, I’d like to point out that it’s difficult to explain what it’s like to have all your intuition and sense making abilities shaken up and mangled. My compass was broken. I felt the lingering effects of the massive amounts of drugs clouding my brain for weeks after each episode, the psychological effects still surfacing at times –namely, the main tactic they used which involved pretending to be my inner voice. They did this to such an extent that at times this same illusion has popped up when confronted by other stalkers equipped with various trigger themes, etc.

So the same types of repeated drugging, interrogation and torture happened, this time with even more participants. When I was finally clear headed enough to leave I was made to wait for my car to be returned. All but the leader perp had left in my car to drain my bank account. The leader guy just sat there plying me with post-hypnotic suggestions meant to instill fear, while also saying, “if you’re just patient you’ll get your car back”. I finally just left without it.

This time I did find a convenience store, but had no money with which to make a call. Almost as soon as I entered the store I heard the other patrons (planted perps) making all kinds of rude comments about my appearance and state, saying things like ‘take a night off, tweak’. I approached the counter lady and told her I’d been robbed and asked to use the phone. It seems odd that no one, not even my parents or longer term friends in other cities, no one answered their phone. I kept pacing around the store trying to figure out what to do because not only was I car-less and moneyless, I was feeling the effects of the drugs and as thought I might pass out any moment. At this time, in the middle of the night, in a not-busy part of town, a whole stream of perps came in and stood in line making comments and glaring or overly acting concerned, etc. Some pretended to be helpful and some just stared. I remember feeling certain they would swarm if I left the store. I asked again to use the phone to call 911, to which the counter lady rudely responded, “why, you don’t look sick, why don’t you use one of these people’s phones?”. One guy offered his and said he’d give me a ride. I went outside with him and sat down in the passenger seat of his car, reluctant to close the door. Then I heard an ambulance approaching. He tried to scare me into closing the door saying “close the door and we’re off or stay here and get busted”. For what?!

This time I didn’t even try to talk to the cops, yet while I was made to sit alone in an open ER room for hours upon hours a cop showed up. Though I had never been allowed to tell what  I knew of the location, he magically just knew where these things had happened and told me there were other officers “on their way there now”. He ended up reporting back that all they’d found is some meth addicts and warned me about using drugs. My version of what had happened didn’t matter. I was blamed for the drugs in my system rather than it being seen as evidence validating my story.

I was made to wait several hours before being examined, during which time I was scared to drink water for fear that I would wash away evidence, but I was so dehydrated that I finally had to. This time going through the examination I was threatened that they could give me prophylactic drugs to help protect me from sexual transmitted diseases, but that there was no point in them giving me the first dose because the rest of the prescription was very expensive, as if I had no right to these drugs and they had just decided on their own that I could not afford to get the follow up meds.

This time while I was made to sit alone in the room for hours I was made to overhear a creepy conversation between two people just outside the room. They talked about a wide assortment of personal details ranging from childhood experiences to what I thought of a book I’d once read. Eventually this ‘conversation’ turned to what a victim I was pretending to be and if I just stopped feeling sorry for myself I’d see how free I was. So I took out the IV and tried to leave but was stopped and made to go through psych evaluation where of course I was made to feel delusional and unsound.

For months and months after these events I would receive gaslighting messages from these friends, implying over and over how I was confused and didn’t know what I was talking about. I did my best to get on with life. I vowed to let unfolding memories come to the surface if they would, but above all else to keep moving forward.

During the several months that followed, strange things started happening in many areas of my life. Things in my apartment would be moved to places I’d never would have moved them to (I decided I’d probably moved them yet when I moved apartments I found ‘meaningful’ things in places I’d never have put them). Solicitors would knock on the door and after I declined to buy whatever they were selling they would drop some themed and cryptic line with a knowing grin. My car was slammed into on the street where it was parked so that I could not open the driver side door. My finances, already somewhat depleted by the theft, continued to suffer as I lost clients and had to devote time to self care rather than ‘normal daily activities’. Neighbors started looking in through my windows but always had excuses and apologies when I confronted them.

One night I drove to a nearby store to use the pay phone because someone had switched my long distance carrier so that I could no longer make long distance calls. The phone I was going to use was already in use so I used one across the street. As I finished my call the guy on the other phone walked across the street and asked me for a ride. It was the leader guy from the drugging events, but wearing a stupid children-of-the-corn type hat. naw, couldn’t have been him, and if it is, what can i do? so I went home and tried again to get on with life.

Over and over again I tried so hard to see all these events as unfortunate but normal mishaps, and to explain the rest away as what seemed to be connections where there weren’t any, probably from the traumatic drugging experiences, I’d tell myself. Nope

I was asked to give an acquaintance a ride one night and he ended up grabbing my keys from the ignition and disappeared into the house he’d claimed was his, showing up minutes later with stolen electronics. As crazy as this was, I tried to stop him but he just yelled crazily at me. Eventually I got away from him and turned in the stolen stuff to the police. This was one of many attempts to set me up for some criminal charge or another.

Determined to get on with life and make some new friends, I opened myself to a neighbor woman who came knocking on my door one day saying she’d just moved in. Over a period of weeks we got to know each other a bit. One night she invited me over. After we talk for a while her boyfriend and some other guy show up and they all start making comments, repeating exact phrases from the drugging events. Since I had yet to remember even more of these events, these comments had the effect of suddenly bringing some very dark stuff to the surface. As I sat there in disbelief they continued, clearly enjoying themselves, as usual, the one woman pretending to be me and mocking, I guess, my experiences while in Austin. They’re talking about dumping my body on the side of the road, etc. Then the boyfriend tells the other guy to ‘get that thing from his car’ which turns out to be some frayed wire contraption with an electrical plug on one end. The boyfriend tells me this is for ’stickin things on’, meaning me.

I got up and moved quickly to the door. I was sure they would try to stop me, but they didn’t, they just sat and beamed their evil smiles. On the way back to my apartment the neighbor woman across the hall cackles, “hee heee HEEEEE where you gonna go now?”. At that point I knew something really wasn’t right.

Around this time I’d also started being harassed online, getting weird messages about things said and done in my apartment, but vague enough that it could have been coincidence..until they started being more obvious -this was timed to coincide with the larger attack by the new neighbor friend and her friends. Online messages referring to how objects were placed in my apartment or what I’d done alone, etc. The neighbors on all sides were participating in gaslighting and street theater though I had no labels or terms like this yet.

The night of the larger attack, after hearing the neighbor lady cackle, I got inside, shut the door and paced around my apartment for something like 6 hours. This was an extremely intense experience -something like angels and demons (not the book) whispering which version was true, what I should do. Very surreal, like falling back into the Austin experiences. I paced, I picked random books from the self (stripped naked and along I was using everything I had to find and tune into some center again, to find my bearings), and mostly I paced some more… starting to piece together the mechanics of how rallying and networking people might be done if someone really wanted to mess with a person. That would have to do. I finally passed out exhausted from the sorting of mythical creatures and proportions…. and chalked things up to the Austin people being even crazier than I’d thought.

As the theater and gaslighting got more and more intense I started talking more with Houston friends and eventually decided that I needed to be where I felt safe and was closer to family. This was an extremely difficult decision because I was torn between wanting to be with my child and fearing for his safety too, and seeking some place where I could feel safe. I had to decide that he was safer with his dad and step-mom, who claimed not to have seen any signs of stalking activity.

While my stuff was in storage for several months most of it got ruined and didn’t think too much about it until details of the destruction were mentioned to me later by stalker-critters. When in Houston, friends immediately started in on the gaslighting, though they played it cool and spread out cryptic references just enough so as to avoid suspicion, seemingly. Most of these people I’d known for many years, so I was trying to enjoy feeling at home again. As time went on my oldest high school friend (my roommate at the time) started acting more and more strangely, sabotaging smaller things and one large work project that cost me several thousands of dollars. Everywhere I went friends I hadn’t seen in years would pop up at the most random seeming locations. Truth be told, most of these people were from high school days and there weren’t too many I’d care to get to know again –this plays into the outcome I believe, the types of people– but I do always like seeing friends again if it happens to come up. The thing that threw me off for so long is that these people I’d known may or may not have anything in common with me anymore, all had seemingly relevant perspectives and respective altruistic interests or what-have-you. Not knowing that a lot of this was mirroring of my own qualities in order to lure me, combined with the increased interest in connecting with some stable/known experiences after the drugging events… I continued along, not realizing that moving back to Houston was a from-the-frying-pan-into-the-fire kind of move.

It’s not really possible or worthwhile to paint the whole picture of this era of betrayal-by-hometown-friends, but the broad strokes are like this: Besides the friends in Austin, I had some in Waco and Houston. Following the drugging events the Waco and Houston friends were very supportive, but several months down the line, were also starting to repeat some of the same trigger phrases and such. Or something I did with one group would be mentioned by another group (me being the only member in common with each group). This went on and I kept attributing it to my own perception flaw, or just put it on the shelf for later because I didn’t know what to make of it, and I trust my friends. This slow gaslighting lasted for 2 years before the shit hit and they revealed their hands.

Different friends would set up gatherings with my roommate and come over for gaming and stuff. Many of these times they would make cryptic references that I couldn’t quite place. Much later I could see the cross-referencing between the different themes brought up by friends in the different groups and even hundreds of miles apart (very exact phrases and themes, not baseless connection-finding on my part).

Before things got overtly weird in Houston my oldest girl friend from high school made a point of connecting with me –this was brought up by the friends that would appear places I went. So Ke and I ended up getting in touch and becoming friends again. Over the next 2 years she, her girlfriend, a friend from even earlier, Jl, and many other long term friends went about gaining increased trust while staging little gatherings where they would involve other friends of theirs to participate in gaslighting situations. Ke went above and beyond to talk with me about Austin events and pretend to relate and try to get me to open up more. She and some of the other closer friends pretended to be very concerned and compassionate, but there would be these odd incidents,  like Ke, after regaining my trust connecting about the traumatic events, suddenly started laughing nearly hysterically after I related details of the rape exam, as one example.

During these laughing fits by friends-turned-stalkers I eventually became aware of the listening devices and microphones these people were wired with. This is a more mundane example of the technology used by the leader types who would feed lines and suggestions invoking suspicion of me to these people. I’ve seen this countless times –there is a clear ‘listening’ look on their faces, sometimes they don’t seem to be ‘all there’ as they listen to the leader’s messages and suggestions, I see the confusion and even fear as they take in the disinformation that the leader plies them with, or just intent listening and glee like excitement to get their part right. I’ve also seen harder evidence of these ear pieces, but whatever, on with the story.

We did many family activities including Ke’s kids and my son. Over time, my closest friends, Mt, Sv, Sd, Ke along with others like Jl started getting pushy with their opinions that a lot of my experiences (drugging) were in my head, etc. They each did their best to feign empathy and concern, suggesting just like the ‘friends in Austin’ that I needed to get over it and trust someone. Ke would imply knowingly that my experiences in Austin”sounds like acid hallucinations” –again and again I’ve seen evidence that the reported and recorded ‘evidence’ of those events has been shown to would-be stalkers in very deliberate ways, highlighting the inflammatory remarks the leader types wanted them to hear, manufactured details that were not the truth, and cutting out all of the terrorism that took place (except for careful doses to those perps that had been won over to the indoctrination ideas that I deserved this treatment).

These longer term friends started making more obvious cryptic comments and would claim I’m paranoid or just laugh when I would overhear things and confront them. There were intervention types of confrontation where they tried to make me feel like I was doing something wrong socially/morally and not let me talk or defend myself. When I would try to they would say “doesn’t she seem defensive?” as though being defensive isn’t a rational reaction to being attacked. Every time I decided they were being too controlling and weird they would adjust and get apologetic or generally change the attitudes –much of this aided by the surveillance material spied when I talked about these events with my boyfriend. For example, after a large attack/pseudo-intervention event I commented to by boyfriend that Ke didn’t care about truth, just about ‘being right’. This line was repeated back to me by her later on –as many lines were repeated back to me, showing clearly how the leader types carefully disseminate information and disinformation to paint the target as some kind of power-monger or monster.

A lot of manufactured synchronicity was made possible through the surveillance equipment installed in my home. Whatever I brought up would come up as a friendly coincidence with these friends. On top of this, the leaders would feed anything negative I said about these friends to them, with the intent of stirring up angst. Several times I would be talking with my boyfriend, and sensing/experiencing the nefarious yet covert actions of these friends –basically they deserved any of the private accusations I talked about, but in their minds, when they spied on these conversations, they used these bits as ‘evidence’ that I wasn’t ever their friend, etc. All social bullshit that isn’t true. The truth is that I was a better friend to them than they know how to be. Inflammatory remarks taken out of context, as well as completely manufactured derogatory remarks were spread to these friends, again, with the intent of pitting all of us against each other, with me as the obvious focal point, the scapegoat for all of them to blame. I would hear one friend say something negative about another friend, and then days or weeks later here that friend mumble the comment under their breath, clearing indicating that they thought I’d been the one to make the remark.

As seems to be the pattern, there are great periods of ‘building up’ to larger attacks. Just before the latest larger attack these friends started talking about cancer a lot (? – whatever, each in their own ways, I thought). One would say how they would just kill themselves if they ever found out they had cancer. Most of the others started talking about barbecue, cooking, to cook and DEW. These became constant themes from these friends in emphasized words and symbolism, as well as by strangers on the street and text messages I would receive from both friends and strangers. I did not connect the intent to instill fear from these comments until dozens of these comments had been said to me.

When the friends really started acting like known stalker types is when they got braver and braver about flaunting their conversations via microphone and ear piece in contact with their leader. I’d experiened this in Austin and over the couple of years had gotten good at picking out the signs of this -clear expressions of ‘listening’ on their blank faces, oddly timed laughter bursting out at some unseen/unheard joke, repeating of lines and questions in a very ‘coached’ sort of way. Mainly when these agent/perps get this enthusiastic about their participation it’s the hilarious inside jokes about how stupid they thought I was being that gave them away. This is also how much of the fear-induction / control comes into play too, as the leader type whispers in their ear the supposed ‘malicious motives and control tactics’ the leader is ‘helping the perp to see’ about me. This is a constant pattern, how the leader types successfully project their own crimes onto the target. For example, one friend would say some seemingly random thing about how I’ve always been concerned with how people see reality. In hindsight I see this as a clear example of the leader types shifting their malicious characters onto me –there is a vast difference between offering of opinion, additional perspective, and trying to limit another person’s perspective -this is hat I was (implied) accused of because I was upfront about my ideas and feelings. Since these ‘friends’ are undeveloped people who lack the ability to think for themselves -they have thrown out the ability to discern truth from fiction- it was relatively easy for the leader types to interject their own agendas and illusion into the perspectives of these people.

Wrapping up

Each of these friends played their own part in the ‘reveal’ events where they tried hard to let me know they were all ‘in on it’. It’s not worth going into the depths of events they staged, the physical danger they chuted me toward, the endless gaslighting comments and text messages, etc. This is theirs to deal with if they decide to fucking take the reigns of their own development. As for me, I’m done playing scapegoat for people I had no idea were so relatively repressed and reactionary automaton.

During this period of time I started experiencing much larger instances of street theater, with whole acts carried out from one shop to the next as I tried to go about my day, the themed references bouncing around between the participants planted and walking around me. I’ve seen this move like a wave, seemingly infecting various people and watching/following me as I move along. For the first several times I saw this, I assumed it was a fascinating (fascinating but explainable) concerted effort to mess with my head. -and I do think there are those who wittingly participate, and willingly harass, but these are the minority. After also seeing this same wave effect happen in numerous situations where the person was literally transformed (normal guy on the street morphs into angry glowering guy with completely different express and energy), well, my perspective has expanded and continued to expand in order to fit all this into some semblance of order or meaning.

So, the crescendo of my experiences with gang stalking was an intensive phase of multi-faceted harassment, which included a wide spectrum from the most physical and conniving though conventional harassment, to psychic attack and all kinds of unbelievable matrix-talking-at-me kinds of phenomena involving strangers and trusted loved ones.

I’ve learned a lot, and in many ways am picking back up where I’d left off as far as personal development or mission goes. And as it turns out, a lot of the impressions and signals I had tuned into during earlier mystical experiences now had places to fit where they’d been just sitting on the shelf before this great upheaval.

And life goes on…

For some larger personal context check out Things I Know For Sure or more recent articles in the blog. If you want to connect and share some perspectives, you can contact me here or join the forums.