It was not funny. My heart was pounding in rage like a hammer beating in a nail. I was being probed by about 300 voices in my head a minute, attacking me, calling me out on my sad, sick life like these forces had an acute knowledge of my experiences and inner torment.
I had no line of defense, although I attempted in my head to fight back by coarsely swearing and barking back feeble insults.
I called them out on what was happening and how it was unjust. A sinister woman’s voice told me that before I had become like this, I had been spied on night and day, that I had been awoken to something, and so now I was aware of these duplicates of personalities.
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