Sometimes, more and more often I can't stand how I perceive the world or rather how I act to be perceived in various situations. I was taught that partly but before that I was the same too, just not a trained one. But one might take a soldier as an example too, a special forces soldier, totally brain-washed to obey all orders. Well, at the end of the day I've never been a guinea pig but it might have just been too much for me to bear. I could cope with that while I still could do my job. I was good at it, I know it, they know it. Now I lost it, I'm losing my lab, more and more acquaintances from the past disappear. I don't believe in mass suicide in jail, one by one, there's always a cause.
So here I'm somewhere in my thoughts, a retired 'soldier'. Right, it's always hard to accept one thing about it. It's a superb thing to do, exceptional, fascinating, immersing, prestigious... But you mustn't tell anyone who you are. Fucking bureaucracy. Protecting idiots who rule and who are in no way different than fraudsters, cheaters, and thieves.
And what am I now? This was like my way of living, where I found myself, where I thought I was at the right place.
Faces. A lot of faces. Different faces. Masks. One for smiling, one for crying, one for hiding feelings. Lie, pretend, fake, whatever is needed. Beat, torment, kill, do whatever you need to get the facts.
We see you as an experienced guy, feel to be chosen, we smash other people like you normally, we don't have to think, we already know. This is kind of your new life, get used to it. To be honest you should already have. Such a craft demands seconds to make decisions.
I already had. It never mattered to me if the color of what I do is black or white.
We got your tests. You're a fucking borderline personality disorder having son of a bitch. There's methadone, some morphine derivatives and benzodiazepines in your blood. We don't care. We do it that way. We put our test into your case instead and you take this to fake another blood tests. We don't mind getting drugged as long as you're not so fucked up that you can't think fast. Yes, you're going to think in nanoseconds. You know what 'nano' means? You better do.
I swallow the god-damned pill. I take the test. Voila, I'm high as a kite and the lab says 'he's clean'. I think fast, I think super fast. I pass all tests after training.
Months passed...
Do I really have to get back to opening anything that is supposed to be safely closed? Yeah, life is sort of a circle. Recurs. Repeats. Like a crossover cable but it does recur.
So here I'm somewhere in my thoughts, a retired 'soldier'. Right, it's always hard to accept one thing about it. It's a superb thing to do, exceptional, fascinating, immersing, prestigious... But you mustn't tell anyone who you are. Fucking bureaucracy. Protecting idiots who rule and who are in no way different than fraudsters, cheaters, and thieves.
And what am I now? This was like my way of living, where I found myself, where I thought I was at the right place.
Faces. A lot of faces. Different faces. Masks. One for smiling, one for crying, one for hiding feelings. Lie, pretend, fake, whatever is needed. Beat, torment, kill, do whatever you need to get the facts.
We see you as an experienced guy, feel to be chosen, we smash other people like you normally, we don't have to think, we already know. This is kind of your new life, get used to it. To be honest you should already have. Such a craft demands seconds to make decisions.
I already had. It never mattered to me if the color of what I do is black or white.
We got your tests. You're a fucking borderline personality disorder having son of a bitch. There's methadone, some morphine derivatives and benzodiazepines in your blood. We don't care. We do it that way. We put our test into your case instead and you take this to fake another blood tests. We don't mind getting drugged as long as you're not so fucked up that you can't think fast. Yes, you're going to think in nanoseconds. You know what 'nano' means? You better do.
I swallow the god-damned pill. I take the test. Voila, I'm high as a kite and the lab says 'he's clean'. I think fast, I think super fast. I pass all tests after training.
Months passed...
Do I really have to get back to opening anything that is supposed to be safely closed? Yeah, life is sort of a circle. Recurs. Repeats. Like a crossover cable but it does recur.