By the Author / Source: abuaram.site
Recently, ever since I stopped taking my medication, I’ve noticed that my emotions have been strongly drawn back toward the psychiatric hospital. It is as if my subconscious is replaying memories of that terrifying place the moment I quit the drugs. My schizophrenia gradually intensified, and my feelings and memories became tethered to that institution. Every time I am admitted, I experience terrible pain just knowing I am going there, suffering throughout the entire stay. The negativity and distress attached to it only compound. Stopping the medication also triggers psychological—even delusional—effects that may not stem directly from the illness itself, but rather from accumulated emotions. I hear spirits in my head telling me to take the medication; they revolt and grow active because I stopped, as if a spell has been cast over my soul and mind, tormenting me for taking this step. It feels as though someone bound me with a spell tied to the medication, preventing me from ever freeing myself from it.
When these spirits read my writings, I told them that I am not truly sick—that my illness is caused by these dangerous psychiatric drugs. They replied, “You have always been sick!” It was as if they were accusing me of an innate condition, knowing with certainty that I had been ill my whole life. Meanwhile, something else shines a light on me, pointing toward me, growing larger in these moments. Every time this star flashes, I see an image—an eye, like that of a beautiful weeping woman. I often feel it is the Virgin Mary herself. I might be imagining it, but most of the time, when this star shines, I feel it is her eye. Yet, at times, I perceive it differently.
This silent star orbits around me, pointing at me; it is profoundly quiet. Even in the moon, when I am not wearing my glasses, I see the image of Christ or the Virgin Mary forming in my blurred vision and the brightness of the moonlight. I do not believe in Mary or Christ, yet that is what I see. A real eye has even manifested in my physical life. On black screens and in dark spaces, I see the same thing: the eye of Christ, the eye atop the Masonic pyramid, or perhaps the Eye of Horus. Sometimes I think the voices in my head are separate from the bright starlight, and other times I feel they are one and the same—that this light is their creation, manufactured to manipulate my mind. At times, I believe the light is real, physically present in the space around me, and that my inner vision has been opened to perceive it; they are everywhere. Perhaps this light is not a regular jinn, ghost, or spiritual entity. Perhaps it is the eye of God—a deity’s eye, omnipresent, speaking silently, watching. The moment I see the eye of the Great Pyramid in my life through this light, resembling the Eye of Horus, I feel bound to a secret, even demonic, organization.
The idea of smart aircraft reading my thoughts, communicating with my mind, monitoring my voice calls, chat messages, Facebook posts, and WhatsApp chats—even viewing my laptop screen, reading what I write before I publish it online, and listening to my conversations at home while trailing me from the sky—mirrors the concept of local Israeli Freemasonry. This system produces charlatans who hold pacts with the spiritual realm, possessing its secrets, communicating with it, and understanding its inner workings. Yet these human beings have no real control over what is happening; this is a spiritual force far greater than any of us, a force that may have made its own autonomous decision to enter my life, invade my mind, and merge directly with my soul.
