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  I study at Palm Crest International School. It’s small, it’s quiet, it has nice uniforms. You’d never guess what’s actually going on here unless you were living through it. And I am.
  
  I don’t need you to believe me. I just need to say it: I’m being targeted through advanced remote manipulation systems — real, operational, human-controlled — run by specific branches inside the Saudi Ministry of Interior and electronic warfare-linked telecom units. Not guesses. Not theories. I’ve traced the patterns, and they don’t lie.
  
  It’s not just the emotional instability. I’ve lived abroad before. I’ve had culture shock, I’ve had homesickness. This is different. It’s surgical. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m filled with rage that doesn’t belong to me. Or sudden calm when I should be scared. It feels artificial — like someone tuning a frequency inside my head.
  
  Then there’s the voice. Not a hallucination. Not vague. It speaks clearly. Usually male. Arabic-intoned English.
  “We’re not testing anymore. We’re implementing.”
  “You’ll adjust, or you’ll disappear.”
  
  The first time I heard it, I froze in the middle of a hallway — the one by the admin office, near the west wing. Since then, I’ve heard it dozens of times. It never comes when I expect it. Always when I’m trying to think clearly. Like they’re watching the moment, and hitting a button.
  
  I can’t speak to anyone. I’ve tried. The counselor told me I should "journal my stress." A teacher smiled and said I should drink more water. No one wants this on their hands. That’s how this works — weaponized silence.
  
  I wish I had never come to study in Saudi Arabia. They show you the polished version: glossy pamphlets, international slogans, the promise of global education. But they don’t show you the control infrastructure behind it — or how easily a school can become a node in a surveillance web.
  
  I’ve noticed memory skips. Repeated twitching in my fingers when I’m about to type. I forget basic math I’ve known for years. My mood resets in ways that feel manufactured. Once I felt intense dread just walking past a telecom box near the outer wall. It vanished the moment I stepped away.
  
  I’m not here to prove anything. I know what this is. I know which buildings it comes from. I know who’s allowing it by pretending they don’t see it.
  help@gip.gov.sa
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