What's The Name Of The Place Where I Am?

 If you know, you're obligated to tell me. I wish for you to tell me the name of the place where I am.

I just recorded episode 448 of my podcast. I also had two drinks before this blog post. The voices are saying "Walk away" and "We hate you" and "We're breaking up". I honestly don't know where these voices are coming from, but I want them to stop. STOP MONITORING ME. STOP OBSERVING ME. GIVE ME WHAT I'VE BEEN ASKING FOR VIA MY THOUGHTS.

"Fuck you" they just said. "You're done!" they just said. Who is "they" and WHY ARE THEY ABLE TO PENETRATE MY MIND WITH THEIR THOUGHTS?!

I think this has something to do with something called "Neuralink". It's an intrusive procedure, claiming to promote "telepathy", but it's actually an implant in the brain without the "patient's" knowledge or permission.

If I've been experimented on, without my knowledge or permission, the experimenters ARE GOING TO DIE, and I'm VERY okay with that. "Ohhhhh, but we're making you a SHOW to show how CREATIVE YOU ARE!"...no...you've been experimenting on me since I demonstrated I'm straight as soon as I was old enough to show an interest in girls.

If you are a "faggot" or a "butt-muncher" or a "gay" or one of the letters in the STUPID RAINBOW INITIATIVE...kill yourself. I hate you and I want you to die. I want to watch you die, and I hope I get to watch you die. I wish for the opportunity to watch those who've been penetrating my thoughts die.

Whether it's murder, or suicide...I don't care. I want those who've been observing me without my knowledge or permission, to die. KILL YOURSELVES AND LET ME WATCH SO I CAN MAKE SURE YOU'RE ACTUALLY DEAD.