"I Would often think, is there a reason why they hated my own existence. Is there any way I could learn why they hated me.". A young man at the age of 5 is already being murder by those that are around him and even his relative is not spared. Hated and hated by his presence he stood up. There is this invisible pressure around him that no one knows. Until he finally reaches his ripe age. In an instant, he grows up to be a man. Yet none did changes. It only grows even bigger, not him, but the problem itself. The situation. On a nearby beach, he by himself, alone is on a question. Question that covers him. The images inside his head, he knows it well. Someone is imaginings things. Things that would disturb his own existence, mocked him of who he is, laughed at him in silence, spit of him even if he is by himself alone. Things that's would often break the spirit of anyone. Things often being done by most of the heinous person in the world. A killer. A criminal. The images inside the head and the voices are all real, rude, and killers. They would torment and send someone, someone's life in jeopardy. He knows it, long before. There is this record of him knowing it, in the history, only not written and not shared. Some says it is a myth, some says it is not. For it is hidden In the silence, a disease unshared and untold, in the very long passage of time. "The eyes, and the ears, of the government and those that are around him. As well as those who are rude enough to torture someone else life in the silence. Someone sending those who are worthy on their deaths door. Someone killing someone else in the silence. Someone, bending reality. Someone sending everyone to the path of a lunatic.

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  "Did I and have I forsake what reality is. Have I already sent myself and submitted myself on what is not real. Have I already believe the rumors and the voices inside my head and forsake what is real. No, I do not.".

  So he the man himself did started to write things on a desk. "The telepathy, the vision inside the head. The neural link is something called as a break through in science. But I guess it is not. It already started to long before science discover it. Because of it, someone is being sent to the path of being a lunatic. Craze and mental, and a psychopath. Because it was being sent on someone else head directly. By history I already saw lots victims, victims at the young age, 6, 10, eleven, not even the old was spared. Not even my dad and mom."

  The dot of the pen did stopped, and it continued. "The eyes of the government and their ears, and those community who knows it well, and the sensation of the pressure hidden because of the torment inside the head. Even I myself almost died, because of it. My dad, and mom was not spared. How much more, I.".

  "Some would say, we are of psychopath. Some would say, we are mentally disordered. Some would say we are lunatic. But we're not, we are of the norm. We are person, people, citizen only deprived and tormented, silently, because it is the government, and the government knows it well. This is the story of how the government watches the people by their eyes, and how are they connected to the governments eyes. This is the story I created and wrote just so incase you will suffer the same. This is the story of those who are under such same, same psychological impairment and disability. For they, me, you, them, us. Everyone around us being watched by the government.