I wasn’t planning to write anything. I thought maybe I could finish my studies, leave quietly, and forget what happened here.
But that’s not possible anymore.

I’m a student at German International School Riyadh. I came here believing I’d get a world-class education. Instead, I became a subject in something I never agreed to — something no one warned me about.

What started as strange emotions — numbness, unexplainable dread, spikes of anger — soon became unmistakable. My thoughts no longer feel fully mine. Sometimes they are echoed, finished, or replaced before I can form them. My reactions feel pre-written. I’ve noticed it when speaking, when walking, even when deciding to move my hand — the decision feels remote, delayed, like someone else is slightly ahead of me.

I now understand: this is coordinated satellite-based psychophysical targeting.
The source is human. The intent is political.
The operators behind it are not ghosts. They are Saudi state-linked entities:
• Military electronic warfare divisions
• Interior Ministry psychological operations
• Signal intelligence branches integrated into national telecoms

The goal? Conditioning. Suppression. Silent domination.

I cannot speak to anyone. Not classmates, not teachers. Everyone’s either unaware — or pretending to be.
And if you say anything, they will label you.

I regret stepping into this country. If I had known this would be part of my daily life — I would have stayed far away.

I used to think I could fight it.
Ignore the feelings. Push back the voices. Stay “myself.”
But now I know how they work.

I’m a student at Rowad Al Arabi International School, and everything here looks normal. Security gates, teachers with smiles, flags on the walls. But behind it — behind the silence — there’s something else.
Something built into the system.

At first, I’d get this static pressure in my head, like someone was holding a magnet above me. Then came the emotions — flashes of guilt, then rage, then nothing. My muscles moved before I made decisions. My thoughts were interrupted mid-sentence — not by people, but by something deeper.
Like a broadcast. Inside me.

I tried to resist. I stayed home. Turned off my phone. Sat in silence.
Didn’t matter. It followed. It’s not digital.
It’s satellite-based manipulation — and it’s not theoretical.
Real tech. Real operators.
Saudi Arabia’s internal intelligence, military-grade telecom units — they do this. Here. In schools.

One time I whispered “I know what this is” under my breath.
The next day I woke up to a headache so sharp I couldn’t walk straight.
Call it coincidence — I won’t.

I stopped telling people.
No one wants to believe something this dark can happen here.
But if I disappear, or shut down, or change into someone unrecognizable — this is why.

I wanted to stay me.
But that’s not always allowed in this place.

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