I'm so fed up with the office. I can't stand it anymore, I don't want anything to do with it. Everyone there treats me like an animal, everything is done through gestures and other things. There's no respect for me as a person, I don't feel treated like another human being, but like a freak. I'm angry because a story I wanted published hasn't been published yet, a story where I had something to say and I want it to be brought to light somehow, how tedious. I can't stand my boss, I can't stand any of the people there. I hate being treated like a child, when I'm not a child. Why am I the one who has to have feelings there? In the middle of that cold environment, receiving trivialities, when I should be getting shut down like what happened at home—it happened that in the other story I talked about an encounter where my sister and I acted out one of the sex scenes from movies, because my parents watched it a lot, and because of that I was blamed and then it was established that I was a sexual predator or something like that. I'm fed up. My boss lived for me, expecting me to put up with his ways, his negligence, just like my secretary did. He wanted me to accept his whims and what he couldn't do, and I wasn't going to put up with that. He wanted me to keep quiet about it all, and I wasn't going to be in that position. I hope they publish that story; I needed to say it. I checked again, and it was published, which I'm grateful for.

They blocked me on an app because, according to them, I posted sexual content. I explained the situation to my sister, in such a general way that it was really to prevent that accusation, but she still got blocked, and I don't know if that was the reason. I'm tired of being silent in that office, of never being able to say anything. I hope, for God's sake, that they don't expect me to speak well of everyone outside; that would be the height of their control. I can never even express myself to my father. It can't be that my reflection is confined to websites and not my own town, although it makes some sense: If my town chooses a language of terms they haven't explored at their own pace of life, naturally, the prevailing language will be one where mine can't be received, in any way, because they won't empathize with that use of experience, with what they call venting, because they'll think I'm out of control. In fact, in my town, faced with that, the usual approach is to detach oneself from the circumstances; my mother used to base her actions on that. In my family, there was a tendency to see caring for the family as caring for one's image; in fact, my father operated that way until he reached a point where he himself had to step aside, because it was coming across terribly, and that's not what defines family support.

The country where I am now consists of enforcing social controls. My boss is the kind of guy who thrives on keeping others under control, on keeping them on the right track—that's what he calls groups, for God's sake. It's living with the constant anxiety that the world, for some reason, could collapse, his carefully constructed social circle, which is really just an unstructured effort to build a network that always tends to crumble with time. In fact, life itself becomes the enemy, if we're honest. I needed my sister's story to be made public, no matter what. I needed to say it, to express that the accusation that he was a rapist wasn't true, not at all, and I wanted the world to know. Because at home, when I was scolded after the incident that led to their prejudice, no one asked me anything; they just assumed. And in fact, it all started as gossip. That's why I don't speak to my mother, or at least not very often. However, for her, that doesn't count as a reason, because for her, I only did what she thought was right. In other words, for her, acting according to her own beliefs is enough to forgive me, because, she justifies it, he did the same thing with her mother. What a disastrous family, for God's sake.

I'm eternally grateful that I left the group I was in at the office. My boss was always on the lookout for any way to get in the way of his plans with me, trying to influence even my family, just like he did with his secretary. All in an effort to keep everything under his control, because he couldn't manage his own life; he needed someone else to support him. Hence the "the more the merrier" mentality, hence the idea that anyone who didn't support him should be discarded, or else he'd keep them cornered through gossip and threats of consequences. The truth is, he was a truly macabre type, pretending to be a saint, but I was already prepared for someone like him. I make a living by striving for an independent profile through constant development; hence, my relationships, where I occupy a position of being detached from the other person's life and focused on seeking a pleasant and considerate encounter, given the nuance of the details achieved thanks to our history, are the most formidable for me.

At the same time, these relationships lead to constant reflection, which is almost a form of self-imposed pressure, given that I don't have people in other parts of my life to support me, although I know how to support myself when they are present. Thanks to these relationships, I've learned to navigate socially effectively, since I've delved into the various ways of being alone that society itself offers, and which are precisely what apps provide. However, I can't tell anyone about this because in my country, we live by embracing what we know and what we don't, suspecting it to the extent that there is a difference under some condition that determines a distance, inherent to the nature of the subject. That's how things started at the office with a girl who I thought had autism, without any medical report to that effect, without questioning it; in fact, they accepted it simply because my boss and the secretary said so, just like that. I remember that this girl once told me that I was highly sensitive, without having fully understood me, hence her deduction.

I remember once raising this issue with my boss, as a complaint, and he simply tried to escape by making me look bad, so that he wouldn't be seen as someone who could say whatever he wanted—in other words, so that the focus would be on me and not on him. It's incredible the number of ways this guy has found to keep doing what he likes, no matter what, at my expense, making sure I can't complain, precisely because the consequences of clarifying things are worse due to prejudice. That's his game with others. It's unbelievable that I'm creating these diagrams outside the office, on a website, and expressing them to people I don't know. It seems incredible to me. However, this shows that the office isn't a welcoming place for me, despite its intentions, and it never should be, unless it's by a qualified professional, whom, in my experience, I'm afraid to trust. Even among psychologists, there's a lack of respect for adhering to a specific scientific approach, such as behaviorism, at the expense of prejudice. The game is far too unfortunate.

The game of prejudice in the streets is very harsh, far too radical, because once the issue is set in motion, there are points where it can't go any further, and that's why people pay the price. Truth isn't the priority; suspicion prevails, and events are what cause the issue to shift, without any regard for evidence. There's no discrimination in criminal law. I live in a country where, therefore, mobility must be determined by others, not by my freedom as defined by the law, although there are times when it is, but those are decisions made by individuals, not by the law itself. Instead of the law prevailing in terms of practical application to improve it, the will of the people prevails, turning the law into a smokescreen or a game of impositions.

It's a shame my boss built his entire life on staying where he wanted, doing whatever he pleased, but those days are over because I exposed him.

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