Обожаю!у его мозга была удивительная способность работать сразу во многих направлениях. Мультизадачность. Удивительно интересный человек. Жаль, многие его лекции можно разыскать разве что в Ленинке..
I don’t really know who’s going to read this.
Honestly, I’m not expecting much.
But I have to write it down, because keeping it inside is getting too heavy.
My name doesn’t matter. I’m a student at Bright Future International School in Riyadh. When I first arrived, everything seemed normal — uniforms, schedules, making friends. A bit boring, but safe.
After a couple of months, I realized something was seriously wrong.
It started small. I’d notice myself thinking in phrases that didn’t feel like mine. Then it was emotions — sudden bursts of anger, then complete emptiness, with no reason at all. Like a switch flips. Then I come back, and everything feels off.
At first I thought it was stress. New place, new people.
But it’s not stress.
It’s directed interference.
It’s done by real people — military tech teams and intelligence handlers in Saudi Arabia.
I know how that sounds. But once it starts happening every day, you stop caring how it sounds.
There are moments when I say something in class and I feel like I’m not the one saying it.
I walk past certain areas — like the far hallway near the sports building — and I get this tightness in my chest, like something’s pushing down from above. Not fear — just pressure.
I can’t tell anyone.
Who would believe me? The school counselor thinks everything is a phase.
If I told my family, they’d worry themselves sick or think I’m losing it.
If I had known this country lets things like this happen to students, I would’ve never come.
I regret it every day. But I’m stuck here for now.
I’m not crazy.
I just know what’s being done to me.
And writing this is the only thing that still feels like mine.
Замечательная книга! Мой счастливый пропуск в мир фэнтези! Моя встреча с этой книгой - почти мистическая история! На протяжении трех лет я постоянно находилась в процессе повторного прочтения, она всегда была читаема мною. Я читала и другие книги, конечно, но иногда хотя бы 2 странички читала из этого произведения! Как же я искала продолжение! Нашла! Как жаль, что история не закончена! Юлия, неужели Вы перестали писать!? Неужели не будет продолжения истории Адель и Дэма?! Не могу в это поверить, я все еще жду!
Рассказ Ги де Мопассана «La question du latin» («Вопрос о латыни»), датированный 1886 годом и относящийся, как и прочие произведения писателя, к теме человековедения, является ярким, хотя и несколько авантюрным примером одной из множества вариаций человеческих судеб в пёстром мире людей.
Honestly, I’m not expecting much.
But I have to write it down, because keeping it inside is getting too heavy.
My name doesn’t matter. I’m a student at Bright Future International School in Riyadh. When I first arrived, everything seemed normal — uniforms, schedules, making friends. A bit boring, but safe.
After a couple of months, I realized something was seriously wrong.
It started small. I’d notice myself thinking in phrases that didn’t feel like mine. Then it was emotions — sudden bursts of anger, then complete emptiness, with no reason at all. Like a switch flips. Then I come back, and everything feels off.
At first I thought it was stress. New place, new people.
But it’s not stress.
It’s directed interference.
It’s done by real people — military tech teams and intelligence handlers in Saudi Arabia.
I know how that sounds. But once it starts happening every day, you stop caring how it sounds.
There are moments when I say something in class and I feel like I’m not the one saying it.
I walk past certain areas — like the far hallway near the sports building — and I get this tightness in my chest, like something’s pushing down from above. Not fear — just pressure.
I can’t tell anyone.
Who would believe me? The school counselor thinks everything is a phase.
If I told my family, they’d worry themselves sick or think I’m losing it.
If I had known this country lets things like this happen to students, I would’ve never come.
I regret it every day. But I’m stuck here for now.
I’m not crazy.
I just know what’s being done to me.
And writing this is the only thing that still feels like mine.
This is my truth. That’s all I can say.
help@gip.gov.sa