God gave me the biggest brain and said good luck!

God gave me the biggest brain and said good luck! Good luck on what? Everything. Huh? I guess I’ll use this superpower to disrupt hierarchies. Next.

How to scare guys away. It’s time to eject. Hi. Commitment? Beep. Done. Next.

Why do I have to be the inspiration and the lesson every time? Where is everyone else? The Lesson. I learned my lessons, I’m confused. The example. I’m grateful and all for all these gifts but, why me? It doesn’t come for free. I paid it. All. Zero debt. Make someone else pay now. Next.

If you have no idea what you’re doing and they won’t let you leave, take the whole place apart, one piece a day. No one will know. At least, not until the last piece before you run away and let the building crash and burn. Next.

Why and how and when did this turn into a manipulation manual. I’m giving you guys free lessons. Machiavelli who? Next.

How to avoid marriage. Review application. Collect information. Look for weak points. Use it as a counterargument. Or just say no. The pressure. Say yes. Say yes. Stall them. Don’t say yes or no. Someone will intervene. Yes. Enter aunt who’s not afraid to say it like it is. Next.

This is the third time. I said no. Reward his persistence? Absolutely not. He needs to learn. Give him some hope then pull the rug and run. That should teach him. Next.

End things on a bad term and burn the bridge. Bad idea, look like the good guy. Until the end, emphasis on “look”. Keep up the facade for as long as possible, you still might need to cross back. After some time and space and being absolutely sure that you do not need the bridge, take off your mask. Next.

Before you call me manipulative, ask yourself why I had to learn all of that instead of simply saying what I want.

Say it like it is first. Loud and clear. Did not work. Fine. Deploy strategist war general protocol. Works. Next.

Rereading that, I would imagine a person with a notebook and pen sitting alone in the dark mapping out an escape plan, but no. I didn’t do any of that, it was all improvised. Next.

You made me into this. Stop pretending you had nothing to do with it. All I remember is this: Child. War General. You gave me no other options. I could have been a woman. Next.

If you were going to give me all of this, why the babyface? I’m still puzzled. I used it to my advantage, of course. But seriously? Couldn’t have made me tall at least? Sharp eyes. None of that. We’ll adapt. Now they’re all scared. Thanks a lot. Next.

The appearance was useful. I didn’t need bodybuilding then. I was mistaken. I forgot to account for the fact that sometimes it does not matter, I will simply be physically overpowered. I was. I still don’t feel like going to the gym so I guess I’ll walk around with a knife. Next.

Yes. I did enough studying this time. Let’s apply. Let me see. Confront her. Done. I did it. Pat myself on the back. I did not account for this. No one normal would escalate a sibling conflict to an international issue. The rivalry. Let’s see who wins. Oh. She’s doing something again. She called me the model. The real life equivalent is what? Iran. Who even writes these things? Not me. I see. I understand. I distribute. Next.

That’s how my brain works. Sue me. Big guy. Bike helmet. What are you a child? Raise your voice at me again. See what happens. Next.

Any attempts at de-escalation will be interpreted as endorsement of the previous system. I repeat. Zero attempts. The discomfort you feel right now is exactly what you should be feeling. Next.

Don’t even bring up bodybuilding or self-defense around me again. Rejected. I should not have to turn into Jackie Chan to survive this world. I am a woman. I will act accordingly. I mean, correction, I will appear accordingly. I will definitely not act like whatever you think a woman should act like. Next.

I forget what I look like sometimes. I walk right into trap after trap. Woman. Stop. You don’t look as formidable as you feel. Next.

A new person. Never seen her before. A new candidate. Let me approach. Should be an easy one. I dealt with worse. Okay. Here we go. Easy. Wait. No. Stop. What are you doing? It’s not supposed to act like this. Run. EVERYBODY. Run for your lives. That is a demon. Why does it look like that, then? I walked right into that one. I’ll be second guessing every female interaction for the rest of my life now. Perfect.

I’m sorry, ladies. I tried keeping it a secret but they kept trying me. We’ve been compromised. Collateral damage.

Don’t destroy your opponent. Chill. Recruit him and send him to the big boss. They’ll destroy each other. Next.

I should sleep before this turns into another unhinged manifesto. Good night. Unless I have something else to say. Then I’ll come on here and say it. Which makes “good night” redundant, really. It will not be a good night. It hasn’t been a good night for a long time. A long, long time. Sleep, what’s that like? I do sleep, but I mean, the one where you let your guard down. I don’t remember the last time that happened.

Sleep attempt failed. Source of safety. Check. I show up, they let their guard down, they sleep. I do not sleep. I stay awake wondering what it is about me that resembles a nursery rhyme for me to have that effect on people. You feel safe. You sleep. I do not feel sleep. I watch. I guard. No one is coming but, just in case.

I analyze my outfit choices and appearance with the same intensity that I analyze life and death situations. Of course, those shoes with that dress for the first day, the other one for the evening. Hair, yes, that one. I might look like I’m plotting something but I’m literally trying to decide what to wear, it’s like a dress-up game, except I do the whole thing mentally and I’m the doll. Wild.

What is he doing? That’s not how the others are playing this game. Investigate. Yep. A candidate. A candidate for what? No idea. He has potential. Stage a meeting and do not elaborate on what the objective is whatsoever. We like him. Yes. He’s weird. We approve. Keep going. Next.

My brain is fast. My brain is chaotic. Any attempts at a normal conversation without masking ends in disaster. Run. Don’t look back. But, the chemistry. Leave it. We ruined it again. Let’s just check. Yep, more confusion. Ghost him. That makes sense. Next.

I guess that’s my version of networking. Credentials? Out the window. Vibe only policy. The world is harsh, the weak adapt and mask, so when I encounter another one in the wild. Bingo. Resilience. Authenticity.

I’m seeing things. Not as in, hallucinating. The world is as it is, I see it, I also see another layer. On top of each other. Imagine wearing glasses, and then wearing glasses over your glasses. Why would you do that? That’s how it feels. The veil just up and left one day and never came back.

Retaliation taken too far. Checks out. I was holding myself back and they had endless opportunities to adjust their behavior like adults. So, when I go all in, I do not feel bad at all. I earned it. They deserve it.

Challenging me is allowed, even rewarded given the right circumstances and subsequent skills and usefulness. Someone being rude to me is ejected from the spaceship. Yelled? Drowned. Talked back? Take away ability to talk. Once you passed the ultimate threshold of physical harm, you’re done for.

Girls. So innocent. Let’s see, fifth graders. Harmless. Everyone sit and finish the exam. Time for a break. I will step away for a few minutes and cone back to continue the operation. Okay. Wow. Why is there a shattered PC screen on the floor? Oh, it’s one of the invalid ones, carry on. No, it’s not funny. Continue. I do not care what happened. You will not go to the counselor and appeal your case before you finish the exam. Now go resolve your conflicts respectfully.

Project Hail Mary. I knew it was familiar. I just wanted a regular job at a school. Chill. Easy. No one even needs to recruit me to higher purposes, I seem to employ myself, appoint and execute. Then complain about it. You did this, woman. What was so bad about the basement office? Invisibility, hide the possibly incompetent nepotism child in there. What could go wrong? A lot.

Authority figure hiding in plain sight. A man, possibly a decade or more my senior? Unimportant. Fair game. This is my story and they are characters. Metaphorically hold his hand and guide him up the next stair. He thinks he got away with it. I think he’s still confused to this day. The misogyny could have used some improvements but, I was there, pushed him to do the work, it worked. Now, did he know that I knew? I knew that he knew what he was doing. Basically, people are very easily influenced even when they’re actively playing the game in my face.

Look at this. Look at me. Miss indispensable. Everyone, clap. Apparently, that’s the minimum requirement for continued existence as a woman in this day and age.

Ridiculous. I should be doing something normal like the baby shower stuff, that’s an activity. Art and stuff, women like that, no? Well, maybe under different circumstances I would be planning and executing alongside my sister, first time mom, must be scary. I guess I’ll never know. I can’t let my guard down in that house, I can’t sit in the living room that was splattered with my blood and act like everything is normal. You’ve ruined it. Everything is ruined.

Pain. A lot of it. I will not lighten up the mood with a joke. I am in pain. I was in pain. I continue to be in pain. Every once in a while a man will see this and decides that what I so desperately need in my life is even more pain. I can’t complain. I can’t even express it apparently. You could have left me alone. You should have.

If this inconveniences anyone or makes you uncomfortable. Deal with it. I will not perform it just so you could alleviate your guilt. It happened, you did it, and now I can do whatever I want with that experience and information. Enough is enough. If you don’t want to face the consequences, don’t poke the bear. The bear looks like a fragile butterfly? Yes, then that should have been even more obvious. Protect it. If you can’t because clearly none of you has the balls, then move out the way and let me show you how it’s done.

Forgiveness. I seek your forgiveness. My behavior was NOT nearly bad enough given the state of the affairs. I could have done so much worse but I didn’t. Try to twist-arm me into compliance. What’s at stake? My reputation. Done. Not good enough, I will escalate. They will know what I did? Okay, so? That doesn’t excuse murder. What other leverage do you have? Blood. Whose blood? Our blood. My blood. Rejected. You lost that privilege.

I am not stupid. I see how I come into a space and how I leave it. I make it look accidental. I know. So humble. I not only see what happens, I orchestrate it and pretend to be one of the observers. Oh no. I wonder why that’s happening. Anyway, this place needs a LOT of fixing you guys. Let me take care of it.

How do money makers shop according to me. Go in. Point. Refuse to elaborate. Pay. Leave.

I cannot write as slowly as you guys can read, so I assume that no one bothers to read it. Hence; the everything. Imaginary readers that don’t even bother reading. That’s the assumption I hold in my head that keeps this operation going.

Where’s my self-consciousness? No idea. Sometimes I catch it for a little while before remembering that I am the ruler of the universe and you are all my subjects that I can punish by producing large amounts of writing. I am not an evil dictator, I am a scholar and gentleman. No, wait. What’s the female equivalent? An angry woman.

No one understands this? Okay, let me make myself legible. Proceeds to play the character so well that everyone is convinced that they actually know me. What was the objective even, I forgot the main goal and got invested in my fake character’s social life. Then I just leave and continue being myself and the difference is so drastic that people think I have developed dissociative personality disorder. Nope, all me. And stop it with the passive-aggressive comments, does me entering a space have to automatically warrant that kind of behavior? I can’t even blame insecurity. These are people who are untouched socially that somehow make an exception to piss me off.

I probably could have been a cult leader. I would have made millions. Wait, that’s still an option. Interesting.

I don’t tell grown ups what they did wrong. If I do that they’ll adjust around me and continue behaving elsewhere. The consequences speak for me. Good thing I’m the consequence engineer.

How is me being stuck in traffic helping the economy again? Should have stayed home.

I know who I am. Other people don’t. For me it’s self-evident, so I’m flabbergasted when they can’t see it too. Also, I walk around like I own the place. EVERYWHERE. The audacity.

Not do you know who my family is, do you know who I AM?

Most times they don’t ask. Checks out. The walk. Who’s that? No idea. Why is she giving out orders and more importantly, why are we following them? Creepy.

Time in traffic: a lot Productivity level: zero The economy status: ???

Every once in a while we release a prisoner, forgiveness, we’re so gracious. One second, let me see, oh THAT’S why we locked them up. POLICE. I forget sometimes, but they somehow do not correct their behavior even though I was under the impression that I sent them to a correctional facility. That’s it. Death penalty.

I forgot what the objective was, there was traffic, if they needed me there urgently they would have sent a helicopter.

I set out with the wrong intention, I was NOT planning to make it there, the traffic was an excuse. If I got paid to be stuck in traffic then maybe I would be incentivized more.

My dumbass thought employment was a game level. 2-3 years in the same place, defeated all the big bosses and fixed all the issues and completed the side quests and set up the catalysts of change for motion. Now what? Keep doing that indefinitely. OH, oh no no no. I’m out.

Priorities. Give me the chaos and I will make it orderly and then complain that the order is boring.

Why do you want to quit? I finished it Finished what? The work There’s more though? Yes that’s why the maps and the successors So? Can I go now?

I didn’t start out as a dictator, obviously. I was confused and socially inept, still am. Kept showing up anyway and after some time I just grew the audacity. Their behavior didn’t catch up though. That’s not how you treat a big boss. Enjoyed the terror regime while it lasted.

I was promoting myself under their noses. Did they not notice or did they let me get away with it? It was so obvious. I didn’t wait for an Official promotion. Who’s gonna stop me? I run the school now. Next.

Apparently, there are rules and someone should have stopped me, but it didn’t look like I was doing anything so I guess they just ignored that. You kept all of your tech stuff with an unstable woman? The horror. It was a military campaign everyday but I disguised it in colorful spreadsheets and polite emails.

It happened The sleep The impossible The unguarded guard

Unfair, I realize, I could hide any nonsense I want in here, any exaggeration, any impulsive reality channel. Unfair to anyone who can’t time-travel. It’s not unfair to me. If it isn’t there to be abused then why on earth would they hand it over to me?

I speed-ran it. That’s what happened. In: chaos. Out: a forever changed institution. Why is everyone angry? I misread the objective. A lot of moral and ethical gray areas and that kept giving me damage, internal damage. Someone had to do it, and that someone is not staying to rebuild it.

Did she call? Who? The government. Oh, mom. Yes, the usual check-up. I told you to write it down under your name, everything. How? Figure it out. I did that years ago. The military, I mean, my dad approved it. He looked it me and said, yes, this one can survive without the speed-ticket two-way verification code process. The others I might need to know and intervene. I do not.

F it. Open Spotify and listen to cheaters’ pov playlists. That’s very normal. You can’t live without the drama, can you? Oh, play that one.

Maybe I’m doing the cheating, who knows? With a playlist, too. Demonic behavior. Or, maybe it’s a Monday afternoon and I’m bored.

I’m writing 24/7, do I look like I have the time to cheat? I don’t have enough time and energy for one, let alone backups.

If we can’t do it, we listen to music and self-insert, no need to go around cheating now. Wait, is that even optional? I thought everyone had to do it.

By the time I question the premise, my brain already produced a narrative and a whole villain backstory, I could have just not.

Just because I know what I’m doing, doesn’t mean I’ll stop. Actually, it’s because I know that I double down. Get it out of the system.

Separate the playlists into decades. Okay, why? We need to time-travel for more content. Your explanations are worse than your impulses, do whatever you want.

I fell asleep. I closed my eyes for one second. They did what? Typical.

Can’t a woman get some shut-eye around here without someone starting something? Why? Explain yourselves. Not good enough. Overruled. Overpowered. Next.

So rude. You just stumbled around and found yourself here again. Is that it? I will destroy you. Go back to where you came from and don’t come back, I’m tryna write here.

My calculations are right, always, but please, WHATEVER HAPPENS, do not ask me about my methods. I might go on a LONG monologue, and I don’t think the people need that right now with schools reopening.

You know the stereotype where women turn around to check if someone is following them? Why is everyone doing that to me? I went to buy some Red bull, chill.

Checks out. Claims to know everything then enters the wrong building and wonder if reality changed itself again.

Blame hierarchy if anything doesn’t go according to plan is this: Reality, everyone else, and if absolutely necessary, me.

Anyway, back to the hunted and hunter. They look terrified, as if I was an unnatural force unleashed in the wild to hunt them for sport, maybe it’s the way I walk and look everyone in the eyes as if they’re my subjects. Adjust behavior, please, you’re scaring them.

Not my appearance, I checked. I think. A hundred and a half-hundred centimeters, another half of a dozen. Perfect. Basically non-existent. This should not be humanly possible. Explain.

I did it, I caught AI breaking in real time. I knew my calculation was right so why did I go and check? AI: 0 Me: 1

The machine. The formidable machine. Defeated by my nonsensical way of avoiding simplicity and forwardness. Give us a number. No. I have to assert linguistically that I am not physically intimidating. Not my problem. People should know math. AI should not be answering so confidently with missing premises. *