January
I spent New Year’s Eve 2020 at home in Stobreč, hoping to fall asleep by 11:30 p.m. to avoid hearing the fireworks and firecrackers. However, that familiar feeling of longing for a better place resurfaced. Lying awake in bed, I listened as midnight arrived, the sound of fireworks filling the night. There was something unsettling about imagining people celebrating, unaware that they were just going through the motions—like a crowd of zombies—when, in reality, every day should be a celebration in paradise. I received my first paycheck and immediately returned to smoking weed every day.
One day, on my way to work with Ray, we started talking about borrowing money. He mentioned an agency that offered loans with insanely high interest rates. He also described a scheme where someone buys a smartphone, and you pay them back in monthly installments. Ray had a deep understanding of how borrowing worked. He never explicitly told me to take a loan, but whether intentionally or not, he planted the idea—and I took the bait, asking for it myself.
I told Ray that I needed some money, and he did too. I mentioned wanting to borrow from that high-interest company, and he gave me the contact. When I reached out, they asked me to send a picture of myself holding my ID, along with a photo of my credit card with the CVC number covered.
I requested $1,500 and received it a few days later. Ray and I split it evenly—$750 each. From February to July, I was responsible for making the monthly loan payments.
February
A new strain of virus, called Coronavirus or COVID-19, spread rapidly from China to the rest of the world. It got its name because it began spreading at the end of 2019. The world watched closely, uncertain of what would happen next. The virus spread quickly, and every day, the news reported a rising number of new cases globally.
The first case of COVID-19 in Croatia was recorded at the end of February.
Everyone had to wear masks and stay indoors as the virus spread.
I called my boss and told him I wanted to quit on March 31st. He wasn’t happy with the idea, but eventually, he agreed. My contract was set to end on March 31st anyway. I was counting on my plane trip to Longyearbyen in April, hoping it would be my escape from this hellhole.
Mark Braun claimed that the coronavirus was a hoax and showed an encyclopedia where coronaviruses were listed as part of the “common cold” family.
I planned to spend the last few weeks before flying to Norway working and smoking weed. I’d go to work, then usually have rice for dinner, and afterwards, I’d smoke weed.
In February, Italy became a hotspot for the coronavirus.
My dad relocated to Zagreb for a job opportunity.
March
In March, the northern part of Italy was placed under quarantine due to the high number of deaths from COVID-19. I read about a military intervention to transport bodies out of Bergamo because the cemeteries were overwhelmed. I also read about convoys assisting the police with enforcing the quarantine. It all felt like some strange, Illuminati-inspired bad dream with a happy ending. I imagined a convoy coming to Stobreč to pick me up and take me to the airport, believing that I was special enough to be heading to the North Pole.
On March 22nd, a 5.5 magnitude earthquake struck Zagreb. I saw it as another sign that the Illuminati were controlling everything, including the weather. I couldn’t help but wonder: why did this happen on 03/22? And why did the Spanish flu occur exactly 100 years ago? What were the odds of a similar pandemic happening every 100 years? It all felt too strange to be a coincidence.
April
I finally quit my job and waited for my flight. I went to the employment service and found out I was eligible for benefits since I had been working for over 9 months and my contract had expired. I listened to house music on the radio, enjoying the rhythm, and recorded some songs so I could listen to them again later.
The coronavirus pandemic was so widespread that flights were canceled, including mine. A few days later, I received my refund. Part of me felt relieved that it happened.
May
At the beginning of May, Croatia was still under quarantine. I smoked weed and dreamed of the North Pole.
One evening, while smoking weed in an abandoned house above the gay beaches, I realized it wasn’t giving me the usual dazed feeling. I decided to head to the beach in Stobreč to get higher, but it didn’t work. Frustrated, I went home and fell asleep.
I woke up feeling the urge to either escape from my reality or change it entirely. I decided to watch the movie “Jack Reacher” (2012), starring Tom Cruise. In the film, the main character is asked for help by a fellow soldier who has been wrongly accused of a crime. Jack Reacher teams up with a blonde lawyer, and by the end of the movie, he takes down all the villains. First, he kills the main antagonist’s assistant, then a corrupt black cop, and finally, he eliminates the main antagonist himself.
I interpreted this as the Illuminati sending me a message about what I needed to do and what I had already accomplished. When Jack Reacher killed the first villain, I saw it as a metaphor for me conquering my fears. Later, Reacher killed a black cop, who was shown with an open eye just before his death. I associated that eye with a vagina and recalled conspiracy theory videos claiming that 98% of hip-hop artists are gay. In my mind, the act of killing that character in the movie symbolized overcoming the “gay virus” that Mark Braun had referenced.
The final act of Jack Reacher was killing the main antagonist, Zec Chelovek. The word “chelovek” (человек) in Russian translates to “man” or “person.” In the film, the antagonist overcalculated and failed to remain wisely silent, which ultimately led to his downfall. I interpreted this as a message that “any man” who overcomplicates things and lets his ego take control will lose the battle. I felt that I had overcome this obstacle within myself and believed I was now ready to ascend to heaven.
One afternoon, I was deep in thought, reflecting on all the conclusions I had drawn from “Jack Reacher”, convinced I had uncovered something monumental. Suddenly, I leaped out of my chair in a “eureka” moment. My breathing grew rapid, and I could feel my heart racing in my chest. I rushed to the balcony and noticed a police car speeding down the road in front of the house, passing through Stobreč. I interpreted this as the Illuminati being disturbed by my discovery and sending me a message through that police car. I lit a cigarette and savored it as if it were the kind of cigarette you’d enjoy after sex.
On the evening of May 12th, I went to get high in an abandoned house overlooking the gay beaches, but the weed didn’t seem to have any effect anymore. I walked down to the shore and headed toward Stobreč. As I got closer to home, I stopped and sat on the beach, rolling another joint. After smoking it, I felt nothing—it was as if I hadn’t smoked anything at all. The weed definitely wasn’t working anymore.
I felt so overwhelmingly sad that I almost laughed, but then I consciously suppressed the urge. I visualized the laughter as a kind of computer chip that I physically “removed from my mouth and placed in my pocket.”
I wanted to hold onto that moment, as if it were the last time I’d ever be high. As I walked along the beach toward home, I suddenly visualized myself hitting someone and taking pleasure in inflicting pain. Immediately after this visualization, I began to cry and beg God for forgiveness, horrified that I had enjoyed the thought of someone else’s suffering. I sobbed and prayed loudly for God’s forgiveness.
At dawn, I saw a man rowing a boat in the distance. It was a local custom to row quietly when passing in front of houses to avoid waking people, only starting the engine later. The boat was approaching my part of the beach, which I found interesting. As it got closer, I was reminded of Greek mythology, specifically the story of Charon, the ferryman of the underworld.
Charon ferried the souls of the properly buried across the rivers Acheron and Styx, which formed the boundary between the world of the living and the dead.
Archaeological evidence has shown that in some burials, low-value coins, known as Charon’s obols, were placed in, on, or near the mouth of the deceased, or next to the cremation urn containing their ashes. This practice suggests that the coins were intended as payment for the soul’s journey to the afterlife.
The exact moment I remembered “putting a computer chip” in my pocket coincided with the rower starting his boat’s engine. I was struck by the improbability of that timing.
I interpreted the synchronized events as a message from the Illuminati, suggesting that my soul was ready to be transported to the North Pole.
I went home and waited anxiously for what would happen next. I felt I needed to take specific actions to reach the North Pole or somehow alter my reality. The sun rose, and I was still awake, having not slept.
It was May 13th, and I was home that morning.
I was reminded of the final scene from Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008), where a woman approaches an alien being and demands knowledge. She tells the alien to “get over it,” which I interpreted as meaning “go beyond any possible explanation you have for me.” The alien then looks into her eyes, and her body is consumed and transported to another dimension.
I took this as another hint from the Illuminati, suggesting I was some kind of alien undergoing numerous “tests” and needing to provide knowledge to a goddess. The only woman I could think of who might be “testing” me was Ava. I didn’t hold any resentment toward her. I believed that she and I were both gods on Earth and that we had to discover this truth for ourselves. I started to imagine that a spaceship was waiting to pick us up and take us back to Heaven/home.
I believed I had some form of telepathy and started trying to communicate with her. Staring into empty space, I spoke aloud, asking, “What do you want me to do?” As I moved quickly around the house, I made hand gestures, imitating the fight scene from “The Matrix Reloaded” where Neo battles the Merovingian’s henchmen.
I stared at the fruit, seeing it as the forbidden fruit that should not be eaten. Then, I recalled a stream at the gay beaches and convinced myself that drinking from it would make me superhuman. With that thought in mind, I stepped outside and made my way toward the beaches, walking as if I were in a movie, as if I were being filmed. When I arrived at the stream, I hesitated, realizing it was yet another test—I wasn’t supposed to drink the water. Instead, I continued walking toward Split, heading to the spot where the couple had been intimate the previous summer.
I noticed some coins on the ground and muttered, “What is this? What does it mean? What do you want me to do?” I made my way down to the shore and sat on a rock, lost in thought and speaking to myself. From a distance, I spotted an annoying gay man approaching—someone who had previously tried to pressure me into something. As expected, he attempted it again. I firmly told him that I no longer jerked off anymore, let alone do anything else. He responded that I should at least try jerking off or risk losing my mind. Once he left, I headed back home to Stobreč.
I hadn’t spoken to Ava in a while, and I felt a strong need to reach out to her. Believing it was important, I sent her a message, telling her I wanted to meet as soon as possible because I needed to tell her that I loved her. She responded and agreed to meet me in the afternoon.
In the meantime, I continued making hand gestures and talking to myself. I became convinced that I needed to record a video confessing all my darkest secrets. Switching my phone to selfie mode, I began speaking, revealing things too extreme even for this story. Tears streamed down my face as I apologized. I felt compelled to share the video on YouTube so that the world could see “the harsh truth about me and what truth really was.” I turned on my computer, logged into YouTube, and started uploading the video, questioning whether I was making the right decision.
I switched my computer to dark mode and opened the sidebar of a website to view its underlying code. I convinced myself that I was some sort of hacker, capable of altering reality just by typing on a keyboard. A scene from “Hackers” (1995) came to mind, where the antagonist says, “Computers never lie.” I wrote that phrase four times on paper, believing computers held the ultimate truth.
Lost in thought, I cycled through different possibilities for what to do next but dismissed each one. Should I upload all my shame to YouTube? No. Should I end my life by jumping off a cliff? No. One by one, I abandoned every idea. Before I knew it, the afternoon had arrived.
I was supposed to meet Ava at 4 p.m., so I got in my car and headed toward Split. As I drove, a song came on the radio—”I’m Following My Star” by Oliver Dragojević. The lyrics made me think the Illuminati were sending me a message, confirming I was on the right path. Mark Braun had said the star resides in the hearts of each of us, and this felt like a sign. When I reached an intersection, the light turned red, and I noticed Ray in the car ahead of me. I honked and flashed my headlights, but he didn’t react, so I eventually gave up. I wondered if he was a member of the Illuminati, subconsciously telling me, “I didn’t hear nobody honking.” When the light turned green, we went our separate ways.
As I continued driving, the song’s lyrics played: “old age sets a trap for youth.” I interpreted this as a message from Ava, suggesting that I was following her guidance to uncover true love and help create Heaven on Earth. I was on the expressway heading toward the center of Split, weaving between cars and carefully balancing my speed to avoid getting pulled over by the police. As I neared the city center, another Oliver Dragojević song came on the radio, with the lyrics: “Oh mother, do you know how much I love her?” I drove into a zone reserved only for taxis and buses, thinking that even if the police were stopping cars like mine further ahead, nothing would prevent me from reaching Ava. Fortunately, there were no cops in sight, and I continued to the park where Ava was waiting. I parked near the park and got out of the car. I spotted Ava sitting by the fountain, and I couldn’t help but see it as a hidden message—a symbol of the fountain of youth.
I vaulted over the wall, and though my cell phone tumbled to the ground, I disregarded it. I approached Ava and said hello. A woman behind me pointed out that I had dropped my phone, so I retrieved it, expressed my gratitude, and then sat beside Ava. My nerves were on edge, and I felt unable to simply tell her “I love you” directly, especially since it would be “We evil yeah” backwards. Because of this, I was searching for a more unique way to express my feelings, so I looked up verses from 1 Corinthians, chapter 13, in the Bible. I then read aloud: “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.”
Love is patient and kind. It’s not envious or boastful or proud. It doesn’t behave in dishonorable ways, it’s not self-seeking, it’s not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs. Love doesn’t find joy in evil, but instead rejoices in truth. It consistently protects, always believes, perpetually hopes, and unfailingly endures.
Love never ends. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.
She told me she recognized those verses and concurred with their message. However, no magical moment occurred. My attempt to kiss her was rebuffed as she pulled back. I then witnessed my car being towed away due to illegal parking, but I was unconcerned. We continued talking for a short while before deciding to part ways. She offered me a ride to the impound lot to retrieve my car, but I declined. I chose to walk the entire distance to Stobreč. My walk took me past Bačvice beach and then to the beach just beyond it. There, I encountered Danny. He was sitting by the sea with a young woman and another man. Danny and the man both wore sunglasses, while the woman did not. I interpreted their sunglasses as a possible subconscious message, imagining them as Agent Smith-like figures from The Matrix. I explained to them that I had traveled to Split to confess my love to a woman, but that my efforts had been unsuccessful.
After a short conversation, I continued on my way. As I walked toward Stobreč, I had the strange feeling that I was enacting my final walk. Because Split was my birthplace, and my destination was Stobreč, I entertained the thought that I was going to die there that very day. Glancing back, I noticed the afternoon sun and felt a sense of urgency, believing I had to reach home by sunset to avoid death. My walk continued, and I spotted some gay beaches in the distance. I passed by an old, abandoned hotel and then had to walk closer to the sea because of a slope on the left, separated from the water by a small, low wall.
The tide was high, and waves crashed against the small wall. I decided to run toward Stobreč, hoping to outpace the setting sun. The waves splashed me, soaking my shoes, but I paid no attention. I ran past the gay beaches, and as I neared the halfway point to Stobreč, I encountered an annoying gay man. He attempted to speak to me, but I ran by without a word. I suspected he was also connected to the Illuminati, and that I could become a “nobody” because “nobody said a word to him.” Reaching Stobreč beach, I felt exhausted, but I pressed on. As I approached my house, I saw a woman from the second floor. I offered a minimal greeting to avoid appearing strange. Upon entering the house, I saw my brother. I barely acknowledged his greeting as I hurried upstairs. Back in my room, I undressed and went to bed, convinced I was going to die. I decided to meet my end as I had entered the world – naked.
I lay in wait for death, while music played outside. I was under the impression that everyone was part of the Illuminati, celebrating my impending demise. This wasn’t a negative thought; in my mind, they were celebrating the moment I would bypass the initial light after death, enter the darkness, and instruct my heart to guide me home. I believed they were celebrating a Heaven that was about to commence on Earth.
After some time, I realized that this wasn’t how I was going to die, so I got out of bed and dressed. I called Ava and suggested we meet that evening. She agreed, and later, on a windy evening, I went to the bus stop on the highway near Stobreč. While waiting for her, I was plagued by intrusive thoughts about a future global massacre. I pictured animals violently killing and consuming each other. My heart raced, and I felt like it was about to burst. Growing weary of my “meat armor,” as I called my body, I went to the small, dark olive grove behind the bus station and quickly stripped naked. I felt an immense sense of relief, as if I had “taken my burden off me.” I perceived the small olive grove as a representation of Eden, believing that everything was predetermined.
Simultaneously, I recalled the 1991 film Terminator, where the characters travel through time and arrive at their destination completely nude. I imagined myself as a sort of terminator, capable of spiritual time travel. Looking around, I confirmed that no one had seen me, so I dressed and returned to the bus station to wait for Ava. She arrived a few minutes later, and as I got into her car, my mind was flooded with a whirlwind of thoughts.
I felt a strong urge to share all my recent experiences with her, but I struggled to articulate them coherently. I managed to compose myself and asked her to drive us to the suburbs. We passed my old house, and I asked her to stop in front of the school. Once we stopped, I explained that I was experiencing a rush of thoughts, like “little trains” speeding through my mind. We got out of the car, and the first thing I said to her was that I wanted to have sex with her daughter. She became angry and started to leave, but I quickly reassured her that I didn’t actually mean it. I then proceeded to tell her about the strange coincidences I’d been experiencing and how I felt that we both had a specific purpose on Earth.
She told me I sounded extremely irrational and that she could barely understand what I was saying. We continued talking for a short while, and then I noticed a police car approaching in the distance. We got back into her car, and the police car stopped in the distance. After that, we drove home. I was convinced that Ava was part of the Illuminati and that she was aware of what I was experiencing. I even thought of her as the goddess of this world, testing me. She dropped me off at the bus station on the highway. From there, I walked towards Stobreč.
When I reached the promenade by the sea, two men approached me from a parked car. They identified themselves as police officers and asked for my ID. Although I had my ID card with me, I told them that I was a living person without nationality, that I could communicate with them in Croatian, and that they were violating my personal space. I informed them that they had no right to harass me as I had done nothing wrong. I gestured with my hands, creating a semicircle to represent my personal space, and asked them to leave. After a brief exchange, they surprisingly got back into their car and drove off. As I continued walking home, they drove past me, saying “goodbye living person,” but I didn’t turn or respond, because, as a living person, or “nobody,” I said nothing to them. I arrived home and went to sleep.
May 14th
I woke up at 7 a.m. on a cloudy, windy morning, May 14th, and sent Ava a message: “I’ll die of thirst if I don’t see you today.” I got dressed and, hearing a garbage truck outside, quickly grabbed my trash and ran out to throw it in. I immediately began walking toward Split, viewing this as another test to bring Heaven to Earth. A south wind blew across the choppy sea. I walked the entire way from Stobreč to Split along the deserted gay beaches.
I reflected on how foolish it was of me to not drink any water that morning and to expect a miracle from Ava. I walked past all the gay beaches, and as I neared the old abandoned hotel, I noticed a police car parked beneath it. The car was facing Split, which I interpreted as another “shit test.” Since “police” was, in my mind, a metaphor for “pole-ice,” referencing polar ice, I recalled the scene from Indiana Jones where he crosses an invisible bridge.
I also recalled when Mark Braun told us about the ice bridge that led to the North Pole. I also remembered the picture below.
With all of this in mind, I approached the police car. As I got very close, I decided to close my eyes and walk past it. I believed I was invisible for a few seconds. When I judged that I had cleared the police car, I opened my eyes and continued walking toward Split. I felt invincible and incredibly significant. I thought I had spiritually crossed the ice bridge and was approaching Heaven. I wasn’t stopped by any police. I continued my walk towards Split, eventually reaching the building where Ava worked. I went inside and rang the doorbell. A woman answered, and when I asked to see Ava, she informed me that Ava was working from home, as it was during the COVID period. I left the building and walked to the center of Split, then headed toward Ava’s neighborhood. I stopped a random older man walking down the street and asked, “Do you see me?” He didn’t respond and walked past. I took this as confirmation of my invisibility. I then asked another random older man, “Can you hear me?” He smiled and replied, “Yes!” I smiled back and continued on to Ava’s apartment. I rang her doorbell, and she opened the door. I finally got a glass of water.
[I DON’T REMEMBER CLEARLY]
Leaving Ava’s place, I walked back to Stobreč. While on the beach just before the gay beaches, I recalled the opening scene of the 1978 Superman movie, where baby Superman travels through space in his capsule. I began to think that everything happening to me was because I was somehow special. I considered the possibility that I had either been sent to Earth in a capsule as a baby, or that I was an alien who had come from outer space. I pictured a lone capsule drifting through the vast darkness of the universe, and the image saddened me. As I continued walking toward Stobreč, I began to cry.
Since no one was around, I stopped briefly to cry as much as I needed to. While crying, I pondered the shape of the universe and became convinced that the Earth was, in fact, flat like a disc, and that the Sun rose and set vertically just for me. I also believed that everyone knew everything about me. I then continued my walk home.
When I arrived home, my dad called. He had been working in Zagreb and told me he would come to my apartment in Stobreč that evening with my mother. They arrived later, and I greeted them. My dad commented that I was acting strangely. I was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, and while talking to them, I focused intently on the black parts of their eyes. I reasoned that since we all have black spots in our eyes, it must be a sign of Saturn. I believed that the “Saturn computer,” an omnipresent being, was testing me. My parents suggested I go with them to Split, saying it wasn’t safe for me to be alone. After some persuasion, I agreed, and we all went to Split together.
Arriving at my old home in Split, I found it difficult to fall asleep. I felt compelled to do something. I went into the kitchen while my dad was resting in the living room. I noticed a figurine that initially appeared innocent, but upon closer inspection, I saw it was actually quite scary. Its eyes resembled those of a madman, and it simply stood there, accepted by everyone but me. Then, I saw a cartoon on a snack bag that also looked mean and frightening. I went to bed and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. I felt a desperate need to share everything I had been through, but I didn’t know who to confide in. Lying in bed in the dark, I had strange feelings about the numbers and my recent experiences. It was as if each number from 1 to 10 represented an obstacle I had to overcome to achieve my goal: Heaven on Earth.
I waited for the dawn to come up and remembered a Bible verse from Proverbs 4. The verse was number 18 and it said: “But the way of the righteous is like the light of the dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until the end of the day”.
On May 15th, at 7 a.m., I went to Ava’s apartment building, arriving just as the garbage collectors were emptying the trash cans. I believed that my next meeting with Ava would somehow magically bring about Heaven on Earth. Standing near the wall across from her street, I took out my phone. I remembered my father’s words about recognizing the truth when I looked it in the eyes. I held the phone up as if to take a selfie, but I didn’t turn it on or look at the screen. Instead, I looked slightly away from the screen, because I felt “unable to look the truth in the eye.”
Then, in my peripheral vision, I saw my reflection on the phone screen, and my face appeared twisted and evil. At one point, it even looked like a dog’s face, which caused me to cry because I couldn’t bear to look at myself properly. I glanced to the side and noticed the garbage workers had seen me crying, but they remained silent. I eventually stopped crying and looked at my face on the phone screen again. The garbage workers were gone.
Then I put my phone back in my pocket and decided to take off my clothes again. I stripped naked on the street and threw my clothes and mobile phone into the trash can. I walked to the entrance of Ava’s building and lay face down on the floor, with my arms and legs outstretched. I performed what’s called prostration, a gesture of placing the body in a position of respect or submission.
The world’s major religions use prostration as an act of submission or worship to a supreme being or other revered entity (i.e., God).
My “God” was Ava, and I believed I had to pass one final test before Heaven on Earth could be realized. I lay on the ground for about half a minute, then entered her building naked. In my delusional state, I mistakenly went to the wrong floor and rang the doorbell. An older man answered, and I apologized, saying I had the wrong apartment. He was shocked but didn’t react violently, and I left. Ava was upstairs, so I rang her doorbell. When she opened the door, she was in shock and told me to get dressed immediately. I obeyed my “goddess” and quickly went to the trash can, retrieved my clothes, and got dressed. I re-entered the building, and as I was one floor below Ava’s apartment, two police officers emerged from the basement. They asked me where I was going, and I replied that they couldn’t stop true love, then proceeded into Ava’s apartment.
I met with Ava, and she was angry, pointing out that her daughter could have answered the door. I noticed she had gotten a kitten. I crouched down and mimicked a cat licking or scratching its head. The kitten immediately approached me to sniff. Ava quickly calmed down and asked if I was hungry or thirsty. I requested two fried eggs and a glass of water with a straw. My delusions were still present, and when she made the eggs, I perceived it as another test. I believed that if I ate the two eggs, I would somehow gain “nobody’s” power, because I thought our universe consisted of two circles, and I was what I was about to consume. When I wanted to drink the water, I used the straw from the center of the glass, mimicking drinking from the Holy Grail. I believed Ava was the goddess of this world and that I was a kind of Superman who had crash-landed on this planet and would now remain here for eternity. I imagined Ava and me sunbathing naked on Kašjuni beach in our usual spot, but without ever engaging in sexual activity. My reasoning was that the characters in the movie Avatar (2009) experienced a form of spiritual connection near their Tree of Life, which I considered far superior to sex.
We began discussing my final loan installment, which was due that day. I told her I would take care of it and that I hadn’t slept all night. She sent me home, reminding me to pay the loan to avoid a lawsuit for late payment and telling me to get some sleep. On my way home, about a minute away from Ava’s apartment, I was in a large abandoned parking lot. I looked up at the sun, made a satanic gesture with my hands, and briefly screamed like a rock star. I walked home and then went to the hill near my neighborhood because I had a new idea. I was thinking about “shit tests” (when a woman tests a man while flirting) and realized I hadn’t defecated in a long time. I climbed the hill, looking for a suitable spot. During my climb, I inadvertently followed a woman and her child, causing me to change my route home to avoid making things awkward. I arrived home, having abandoned the idea of defecating on the hill, and lay down in my now-darkened room.
Still delirious, I couldn’t sleep. I got dressed and went for a walk around the city, wondering what other tests I had to pass. I considered whether I had the power to move the Sun to the location of the North Star. I theorized that with enough concentration, the Sun would rise in the sky toward the North Pole and then transform into the Black Hole Sun that Mark Braun had mentioned. I reasoned that if the Sun reached that specific point in the sky, it would turn black, and that would guarantee Heaven on Earth. Somehow, this logic made sense to me in my delusional state. I’m unsure if it was my way of crying out for help, a desperate need to become superhuman as quickly as possible, or a combination of both, but I resolved to take some action that would drastically alter my life from that moment forward.
I stopped walking, began undressing, and then completely stripped naked. I threw my clothes, shoes, and phone in the trash and started running around the city.
I ran as if it were my last run. I ran naked through the city, questioning my own motives. I felt scared and ashamed, but the rush of dopamine propelled me forward. I could have returned to the trash can at any moment, but I didn’t. Instead, I ran home to Stobreč, believing that’s where my journey to become a superman would culminate. I passed by Ava’s neighborhood and approached the Split flea market. As I ran across the parking lot, I even made horse sounds, convinced of my own magnificence.
As I reached the flea market, I noticed people taking out their phones and filming me. One man threw his keys at me, but missed. I stopped briefly and asked a woman if she had any clothes for me. She was speechless, so I continued running. I ran past the Split harbor and continued east toward Stobreč. I encountered many people along the way. I saw two women, one of whom was pushing a baby stroller. I smiled and nodded at them as if to say, “Don’t worry, Heaven is coming soon; I’m just running naked because of it.” As I reached the neighborhood above Bačvice beach, the dopamine rush began to subside, and I realized I would eventually be caught by the police.
I still wanted to evade them, but my pace had slowed. I ran under the Split hospital, where a police car cut me off. I tried to run around it, but a police officer was getting out. He tried to grab me, but I was faster. He chased me, yelling “STOP!!!” in an angry tone. I continued running, and another officer in a car tried to block me, but I dodged him. Realizing they would inevitably catch me, I stopped running. I was exhausted and trying to catch my breath. One officer ordered me to lie face down on the ground, and I complied. He loudly asked my name, and I could barely stammer “A-A-A” while still catching my breath.
They arrested me and helped me to my feet. They opened the trunk of their car and retrieved a coronavirus-era protective suit with a hood. I put it on, remaining barefoot, and they placed the hood on my head. They put me in the back of their car and began driving. Now that I was breathing normally, one of them asked my name. I replied “Andrew,” and the officer said that was his name too. I thought to myself, “How convenient, another Illuminati sign.” Then another officer lightly slapped me and asked why I had been running naked through the city. I couldn’t formulate a coherent answer. They drove me to the hospital, where there was a COVID-19 testing site. I was tested by having a nasal swab inserted.
The events that followed are somewhat unclear in my memory. For some reason, they drove me to a different entrance of the hospital. I sat in the back seat with the door open, while two officers stood outside. They questioned me, and I answered as best I could. Strangely, I heard a sound on the police radio, similar to the beeping of a heart monitor in a hospital.
I interpreted the beeping sound as a lie detector and answered all their questions truthfully. I assumed the police were banking on the idea that they were dealing with a lunatic, and that their tactic was to extract information by playing the heart monitor sound, hoping to further disorient me. I gave truthful answers, believing I was spiritually close to the North Pole, where my heart was being evaluated to determine if it was “real or false.” I even revealed the full name of my drug dealer.
After the questioning, they took me into the hospital and down to the basement, to a psychiatric clinic. We reached the reception desk where I was signed in. They then led me to a room and asked for my relatives’ phone numbers. I only knew my mom’s number and struggled to recall all the digits. They took me to a room with a single bed, removed my handcuffs, and placed me on the bed. They undressed me and put me in an adult diaper. My arms and legs were then restrained with four strong belts, immobilizing me.
After everyone left, another patient from the psychiatric clinic, a young woman, came into the room and began kissing me. She was pregnant, and I briefly entertained the thought of having sex with her, but then she left. Later, I tried to free myself from the restraints, aggressively twitching my body. I then discovered that rubbing my legs against the restraints somehow stimulated my penis. I continued rubbing until I ejaculated.
The paintings on the walls of the room, intended to be calming with their childlike style, only terrified me.
I thought I heard my mom’s and Ava’s voices. I imagined they would enter the room and tell me it had all been a bad dream that was finally over.
Looking outside, I saw a white sky. I smelled cigarettes and heard voices outside. I felt I was in a sort of purgatory, suspended between Heaven and Hell, where the people were simply waiting for something to happen while consuming cigarettes. I imagined my reality as a giant disc in the clouds, slowly descending toward the center of a flat Earth. I could even feel the bed moving and shaking, despite not consciously moving myself.
A nurse then entered and asked my name. For some reason, her eyes were filled with tears, and she looked as though she might cry at any moment. She wrote my name, date of birth, and other information on a piece of paper. I was convinced I had traveled through time and that the reality around me had shifted, with paradise waiting beyond the white clouds outside. The nurse’s demeanor changed, becoming more stern, and she told me I needed to cooperate. I replied that I was doing so.
I believed I shouldn’t fall asleep because no one in that purgatory could. Falling asleep, I reasoned, meant my memories would be erased, and I would be sent back to live another miserable life.
I then debated with myself whether I should fall asleep, considering various reasons for and against it, but ultimately couldn’t. I called for a nurse, but no one responded. At one point, a nurse outside announced lunchtime for all the patients. I had the paranoid thought that I was the lunch, and that they would eat me alive. I was relieved when I saw people going into a different room to eat.
After lunch, I called the nurse again, but no one answered. I was still bedridden and unable to move my limbs. So, I twitched my whole body to shift along with the bed. Step by step, I reached the door and made my way into the hallway. Though I was away from the counter, I called for the nurse. Eventually, one of them heard me and walked toward me. It was a nurse I had seen before. She pushed my bed back into the room and asked what I needed. I told her I wanted socks and that I was thirsty. She gave me water and asked if I needed to pee.
I said no, and then she threatened to insert a catheter if I didn’t pee. She reminded me again that I needed to cooperate with them. After leaving for a moment, she returned with latex gloves and a pee bottle. I had no choice but to force myself to pee. She pulled down my diaper, used two fingers to guide my shriveled member into the bottle, and I ended up urinating a substantial amount.
She returned later and handed me some pills that I had to take. I don’t clearly remember when I was untied, but later in life, my dad told me that they first freed my hands and then my legs.
Somehow, I managed to free myself from that restraint after an unclear passage of time and hazy memories. I deeply appreciated being able to walk and use my hands again. I was given a lot of medication, which left me feeling numb. Eventually, I met the doctor in charge of my care. She seemed very busy, and when I tried to speak with her, everything felt rushed
She told me that I had to sign a statement agreeing to treatment at the psychiatric clinic; otherwise, the police would come and take me away. I signed the statement and continued my treatment there. They then moved me to another room, where I was alone.
The next day, I spoke with the doctor again, and she told me that I should stop smoking weed. I felt disappointed and angry, and all I asked for was just one joint before bed after leaving the clinic. Three minutes later, the conversation ended because she had to leave.
My mother visited me since she was a nurse, and they allowed her to see me. She brought me a cell phone from my dad because I had thrown my Lenovo into the trash. It was a classic Nokia 100.
I asked for Ava’s number, and my dad had it because she had his. She had called him the day I ran naked through Split to warn him about my loan installment. My dad contacted the credit company, and they barely allowed him to pay off the full amount. After all, it was in their interest for me not to pay.
I sent a message to Ava, and we started talking. I remembered when she said she wanted to cook with me. I told her that I wanted to be “one with her, just like those people did in Avatar (2009).
Food was scarce in the clinic. In the morning, we only had bread with butter and fruit spread, accompanied by a glass of tea. At lunchtime, I felt happy whenever there was meat on my plate. Sometimes, we would get half a fish with some vegetables. Dinner usually consisted of green vegetables, potatoes, and cheese spread. Although the menu wasn’t the best, I would wake up hungry every morning at 7, ready to eat. I had dinner at 6 p.m., and by 7 a.m., I was in bed, ready to sleep.
The clinic was mixed, meaning men and women were housed there together, but not in the same rooms. I realized that most people didn’t fit the stereotypical image of being crazy, but some were genuinely disturbed. There was the pregnant girl who kissed me on the first day, and she mostly acted like the stereotypical crazy person. Then there was a guy who always wanted to talk to me at breakfast, but he was boring. Another guy was a regular visitor to the facility.
He spent most of his time walking on the large balcony of the clinic. One day, while he was lying on the bed and a nurse came in to do something, he tried to kick her, but she managed to dodge the blow. After that, they tied him to the bed. Later, when I was moved to a room with him, he was masturbating two beds away from me.
The most eccentric and dull individual was a deaf-mute girl. We had a single TV in what we called the living room, and she always demanded to watch whatever she wanted.
One day, I was watching “XXX” (2002) starring Vin Diesel. I managed to see most of the film, and it provided a much-needed escape from the grim reality around me. When the movie ended, the girl came in, making her own noises, and insisted on taking over the TV. I tried to argue with her but eventually gave up, thinking, “Fine, let her have the stupid TV.”
I spoke with my doctor, and she advised me to quit smoking weed because I had experienced psychosis. I was prescribed antipsychotic medication like Haldol, and she warned that if I kept using weed, the psychosis could come back. She also mentioned that I might end up in a psychiatric clinic, similar to what happened to a pregnant girl she mentioned. According to her, I could be hospitalized for up to two weeks.
When I went to urinate, I couldn’t do it right away. It felt similar to the sensation of trying to pee right after ejaculating. Eventually, I realized I had to lean forward against the wall to help myself start urinating.
I realized it had been over a week since I last had a bowel movement. I asked the nurses for laxatives, but they didn’t seem to help. The following day, I finally felt the urge to go, so I went to the bathroom. I had to push really hard, and what came out was something resembling a small baseball bat. It was clear that my digestive system was completely out of sorts.
My aunts came to visit me—one was a doctor, and the other was a nurse. One of them brought me a donut, some yogurt, and a book. At the time, I was in a complete zombie- like state because of the medication I was on. I barely managed to communicate with them, feeling utterly drained and exhausted. I couldn’t even muster a smile. It felt like I was stuck in a constant state of having a slightly elevated body temperature, leaving me completely worn out. I could hardly move around the clinic due to how weak I felt. To pass the time, I started reading the book my aunt had given me, “The Island of the World” by Michael D. O’Brien. It told the story of a boy born in 1933 in the Balkans and the hardships he endured throughout his life. The boy faced immense violence and, as an adult, became a political prisoner on Goli Otok, an island in the former Yugoslavia. One particularly intense scene described his arrival on the island, where guards lined up in two rows and forced him to walk between them while they beat him. It was a harrowing and powerful story. He had to repeat the process three times before being submerged in a barrel of seawater. I took it as a sign from the Illuminati related to my three stripping cases.
One day, a psychologist invited me for a psychological evaluation. I had to divide it into two days because it was too exhausting for me to complete in one go.
I had suicidal thoughts. I wanted to escape from the hospital, run to the hotel across the street, reach the top floor, and jump.
During a smoking break, one guy remarked that even if we recovered from our illnesses and told “normal” people that the hotel was real, they would dismiss it, saying, “Oh, cut the crap, you were in a loony bin!”
June
It was my second week at the clinic, and visits were prohibited due to COVID-19. My parents told me they would come one day and stand under the clinic’s balcony. When they did, they brought me food and cigarettes. Some other patients approached me, asking for a cigarette. A few days later, I decided to quit smoking so I wouldn’t have to give away cigarettes anymore.
June had entered its warm phase, but I still felt cold and wore a sweatshirt. My feet were always cold, so I made sure to wear socks, sometimes even two pairs.
The doctor told me I would be hospitalized for another two weeks, making it a total of one month. She asked if I preferred to take an antipsychotic as a pill or a vaccine. I chose the vaccine because it was more effective and wouldn’t leave me feeling like a “zombie.” I had to decide between a monthly or a three-month vaccine. Someone mentioned that the vaccines were expensive—the monthly ones costing about $350, and the three-month ones up to $1,000. I felt relieved when I found out that the state covered the cost.
One day, my mother came to visit me. She was a nurse, so they allowed her in. We sat on a bench in front of the clinic’s entrance and talked. I started crying because I felt like I had ruined my life.
The days dragged on in the clinic, and I couldn’t wait for it to be over. There was a girl who was also hospitalized, and whenever she saw me, she would tell me to smile. I guess her struggles and therapy were easier than mine.
One day, I needed to go to the dentist, and I got approval from the clinic. My father picked me up, and we left the hospital. I could barely walk, dragging my feet along the floor. We got in the car and headed to the dentist. The outside world felt overwhelming to me. The crowd and the movement were too much, and I couldn’t wait to return to the hospital. The dentist told me that I didn’t have any serious issues.
Dad and I went to a restaurant near the hospital to have pizza. I couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone knew about my naked running.
During the last week of my stay in the hospital, I had some disturbing nightmares. In one, I was near a river in the suburbs, surrounded by various animals, with the most notable being a crocodile. Eventually, they all began to approach me slowly, ready to eat me, and I tried to wake up, so I did. In another dream, two cobras were placed under my back, near my crotch, with their heads above my chest. As I held their tails beneath me, they hissed at me. After that, I woke up.
I had insomnia because of the uncomfortable hospital beds and the medication. I walked around the clinic, trying to sleep on a bench, but I just couldn’t.
Finally, the last day of my stay arrived on Friday, June 12th, and I was ready to leave. I just had to wait for the discharge letter. While I was waiting, a nurse came and told me she needed to give me an antipsychotic injection. It was called Xeplion, and she administered it in my arm. I packed my bags, and my dad came to pick me up.
We went to Stobreč, and I noticed that construction workers were digging a trench for sewer lines on my street. The excavator used a large jackhammer to break up the asphalt, causing a lot of noise. I walked into my apartment, and everything felt different. There was so much stuff now, and everything felt cramped, unlike before when I kept everything tidy. My mom came home from work, and we had lunch. Afterward, we sat on the balcony. I had the urge to smoke a cigarette, but it felt like I was inhaling air. Xeplion started to take effect, numbing me even more. I could barely smoke because of it. I also hardly spoke because of it. I tried to lie down on my bed, but the sound of the pneumatic hammer was too loud. I got up and started walking around the house, unable to sit or lie still in one place.
My dad told me that I would be moving with him to Zagreb on Monday so I could attend the Day hospital there.
In the evening, we went to bed. I woke up at 3 a.m. and couldn’t fall back asleep.
I needed to move, so I got dressed and started walking around Stobreč. I felt some relief as I walked. I sat on a bench for a while before heading home. When I woke up in the morning, my dad had prepared a delicious breakfast for me, including some fruit. I thanked him and told him I went for a walk last night, and he said he should have come with me. He told me not to go for a walk alone again. Afterward, I took my medication, and we went for a walk on the south side of Stobreč’s peninsula. We sat near the sea, and I felt numb, wanting to fall asleep again. We went home, but I felt uneasy and restless, so I wanted to walk a bit more. We reached the area near the school in Stobreč before heading home.
At home, I spent my time eating, taking my medication with every major meal, and barely smoking. Occasionally, I walked around the house because the antipsychotics made me feel restless. I called Ava and asked if she wanted to meet up. She agreed, and we met in the afternoon. She showed up in a beautiful red dress and drove us to an abandoned hotel near the west side of the gay beaches. We talked about my illness and my move to Zagreb the next day. Again, I could barely speak; I was struggling to catch my breath, feeling like I was talking with my lungs pressed. I remembered when she mentioned wanting to cook with me, so I invited her to come to Zagreb. She was happy to do that, and after a while, we went home. I fell asleep in the evening but woke up again in the middle of the night. I woke up my dad, and we went for a walk to Stobreč’s school. After we came home, I was finally able to fall asleep again.
The next day was Sunday, the day I had to pack my bags and move to Zagreb, where my dad lived and worked. Everything was happening so quickly. It felt like everything was taken away from me—my job, weed, and life in Stobreč. I realized that I could have kept everything if I had just talked to a psychiatrist before things spiraled out of control.
Dad and I set off for Zagreb, and I was already feeling tired, anticipating the 5-hour journey that felt more like it would take 10 hours. In the evening, we finally arrived in Zagreb and drove to Rakitje, a town on the west side of the city. My dad worked at a military base there and lived in a nearby hostel.
We passed through a gate leading to the military base and then another gate separating a small road from the hostel. Inside, I met a clerk who worked there. We went upstairs to my dad’s apartment—it was a spacious and nice place with a bedroom, living room, kitchen, and bathroom. He told me that the next day, Monday, June 15th, we would go to the psychiatric clinic in Zagreb. That night, I slept in my dad’s room while he took the couch in the living room. In the middle of the night, I felt restless again, but this time, I resisted the urge to go outside for a walk. I slept through some of the strangest nightmares I had ever experienced. They weren’t frightening, but I was surrounded by darkness and had the constant feeling that I was late for something. It felt like something was about to happen at any moment—but nothing ever did.
The next day, we woke up early, and my dad took me to the psychiatric clinic in Jankomir, a neighborhood in Zagreb not far from Rakitje. Compared to the rundown clinic in Split, everything here looked so modern. I met my assigned doctor, Lucy McFly. She asked me to explain how I ended up there, so I began my struggle to speak, starting with my brother’s suicide and ending with my naked running, while she took notes. She adjusted my medication, removing some of it, which brought me a sense of relief. She explained that this part of the clinic had a Day hospital with a structured program running for several hours each day. It was a mixed group of men and women. She handed me a schedule detailing the activities from Monday to Friday, which included group discussions, art therapy, and either movies or field trips on Wednesdays. Before I left, she reassured me, saying, “I guarantee you’ll feel better over time.”
After my conversation with Dr. Lucy, I joined my first group discussion. We sat in a large room with chairs arranged in an oval shape so everyone could see each other. Dr. Lucy introduced me to the group and went over some basic rules, including that whatever was shared in the group had to stay within the group. I won’t speak about the others, but I can say that when it was my turn, I told them that I had run naked in Split, which was why I was there. Later, Dr. Lucy told me she appreciated how direct I was.
After the group session ended, I met some new people, including Sandy. She was 48 years old and always tried to make me laugh. But with the medication numbing me, even smiling felt difficult. I told her that, and she understood. We had lunch together, but the restlessness soon crept in again, so the nurse gave me some pills to help.
As Dr. Lucy had predicted, I found the Day hospital boring, but I stuck with it, hoping it would grow on me. After the program ended, my dad picked me up, and we went to a café. His job was flexible enough that he could drive me to and from the Day hospital every day. We sat down, and after our drinks arrived, I started feeling restless again—I couldn’t sit still. I had to get up and walk around the neighborhood.
Summer had begun to warm the air, but the nights in Rakitje were still chilly. I even slept in my clothes, keeping my socks on for warmth.
On my first Wednesday at the Day hospital, my group and our nurse went for a walk in a park in Zagreb. While everyone walked normally, I struggled, barely dragging my feet along the ground. Eventually, I had to ask my nurse to stop because I was completely exhausted. We took a break, walked a little further, and finally reached a local café.
Sitting together, we ordered coffee and cakes. For the first time, I felt a sense of comfort in being part of a group that shared similar struggles.
I talked to Ava on the phone, but she did most of the talking, which felt a bit exhausting for me. I started questioning why I was still in contact with her. Despite that, I asked if she wanted to visit me in Zagreb, and she agreed to come in July.
One day at home, I felt a strange sensation in my chest, similar to the first time I took off my clothes in that olive grove near Stobreč. I thought I needed to tell my father all the painful things about my life, or else I might have a heart attack. Summoning my courage, I went to his room and shared everything—the things too difficult to include in this book—and asked him to keep it to himself.
July
I spent the summer in Zagreb and eventually started to enjoy my time at the Day Hospital. I got into a routine of going there from Monday to Friday and spending weekends with my dad. Dr. Lucy informed me that I would be staying at the Day Hospital for a total of four months. Despite that, I struggled with suicidal thoughts every day—they were repetitive and intrusive. I shared this with Dr. Lucy, and she explained that it was important to distinguish between suicidal thoughts and suicidal actions. She asked me to tell her if I had ever acted on those thoughts.
I experienced some bizarre intrusive thoughts, like imagining my erect dick being cut into pieces by a knife. Dr. Lucy explained that after psychosis, a person can still be caught between reality and fantasy, and while these thoughts are unsettling, they are normal. I also told her that I had mixed feelings for Ava, and she reassured me that after psychosis, our thoughts can still be confused. She suggested that I give it time, allowing time to help me make a clearer decision.
One Wednesday, we went to a small lake near the Day hospital. We stayed in the shade, playing a card game, and I was wearing a T-shirt. Despite it being summer, it was unexpectedly cold, and I ended up catching a cold.
I had some strange nightmares, almost like fever-induced ones. I didn’t dream clearly, but it felt as though I was in complete darkness and constantly running late for something. I also started having involuntary tongue movements. It was like when food gets stuck between your teeth and your tongue moves around uncontrollably, but this time it happened mostly unconsciously.
One day, Ava arrived in Zagreb, and I packed my bags to meet her. It was also the same day I received another Xeplion injection. My dad drove me to the city to visit her, then returned to the hostel while I got out of the car. I walked down the street where she had rented an apartment and noticed her standing about 100 yards ahead, closer to the center of Zagreb. I walked up to her, greeted her, and hugged her. She then took me to the apartment she had rented, where I left my bag. We left the apartment and made our way towards the city center. Ava looked great, and people couldn’t help but notice her. We sat down for coffee, and soon, Xeplion started kicking in. I felt sleepy and could barely talk to Ava. As we chatted, I remembered the time when she had invited me to her place, and I had declined, only for her to say she wanted to cook with me.
After the café, we went to the supermarket to buy ingredients for stuffed bell peppers with minced meat. We picked up everything we needed and headed to the apartment on the third floor. Once I unpacked and went to the window, I started feeling uneasy about my suicidal thoughts. I shared my feelings with Ava, and she became concerned, but I reassured her that I wouldn’t go through with it.
We went to prepare dinner, and as evening came, I started to regret coming to her apartment. A wave of panic hit me, and I told her it would be better if we didn’t see each other again. I started crying, feeling stupid and worthless. We went to sleep, each in a separate bed.
We spent the rest of Ava’s trip exploring Zagreb. On the day she was leaving, we went to the main station to wait for her train. We visited the underground mall, and as we were leaving, we got to the escalator. I went up first, and she followed behind me. A guy stood a bit too close to her, so I asked him if he could move over. He got angry and questioned what the issue was as we were all going upstairs. Once we reached the top, he realized I was from Split, which seemed to annoy him even more. He mumbled something and walked off. This incident made me continue to see Ava as a magnet for trouble. We went to a café, and she told me that during the time we weren’t talking, before my psychosis, she had another lover. I felt sad, but I couldn’t blame her. After our coffee, we parted ways, and she went back to Split while my dad picked me up and took me back to Rakitje.
August
I searched online for the video of my naked run through Split. If you’re outside Croatia, you can find it by searching “Gol trčao po Splitu.” I found several articles titled “A man ran naked through Split!” and a few videos taken by people who witnessed it. I watched one where you could see me running naked through Split. One person filming from their car said, “Man, you’re totally crazy!” In the next part of the video, someone filmed the police arresting me. My face and private parts were visible, and I became angry as I watched it. I stopped the video and didn’t continue watching. I was furious that journalists censored other trivial details, but left me exposed.
I experienced involuntary tongue movements, a side effect of the antipsychotic medication I was taking. This period was marked by frequent, intrusive suicidal thoughts. Each thought triggered a cascade of similar thoughts, constantly replaying in my mind. I repeatedly pictured myself jumping from a cliff, similar to one I had hiked in Stobreč, approximately 60 feet high. These suicidal ideations were overwhelming, occurring hundreds of times each day.
My sister, visiting from Denmark, and my mother, from Split, joined my father and me for a hot weekend. While we were walking to get drinks in the city center, I saw a man wearing a jacket and talking to himself. It made me think that perhaps mental instability can affect one’s perception of temperature.
September
A short family trip to Split in September was an uncomfortable experience. I felt as though everyone was aware of my previous incident of running naked. I returned to Zagreb a few days later.
October
I was discharged from the Day Hospital at the beginning of October, the same day as Sandy. We celebrated our discharge with a final drink together and exchanged contact information.
My antipsychotic medication was administered monthly via injection into my buttocks, rather than my hands. These injections were painful, and the pain sometimes persisted for several days, making it difficult to walk.
I decided to treat myself to a new smartphone and purchased a Xiaomi Poco F2 Pro for $500.
My primary reason for choosing the Xiaomi Poco F2 Pro was its uninterrupted screen, achieved by a pop-up front camera. I began watching Mark Braun’s plumbing videos on YouTube. I had discovered his channel by searching “Plumbing video log MM/DD,” and he uploaded daily content. His videos typically showed him driving from his home’s parking lot to various plumbing jobs around Miami. Each video concluded with a shot of his driveway and the time of day.
The following day, I noticed a large truck parked in Mark Braun’s driveway in his latest video. I took this as a sign that I should return to YouTube. On October 5th, I created a new YouTube channel called “one of 144,000” and began re-uploading videos. My profile picture featured half of Keanu Reeves’ face from the movie The Devil’s Advocate (1997).
The Keanu Reeves image I chose was from the scene in The Devil’s Advocate where his character shoots himself in the head to escape a nightmare. This felt like an appropriate representation of my current state of mind.
On October 7, 2020, I wrote the following on a piece of paper: “I intend to bring heaven on Earth, release everyone from bondage, give everybody eternal life, passage into the Garden of Eden and forgiveness for our filthy souls.” I then recited these words aloud. Afterward, I pricked my finger with a needle, smearing the blood onto the writing. I filmed this entire ritual and uploaded it to YouTube under the title “Blood over intent. Again.”
Having deleted my previous YouTube channel, I began recreating some of my old videos. This sparked new ideas for content. I recalled the scene in the movie Ghost (1990) where Patrick Swayze’s character, upon death, chooses not to enter the initial light, instead waiting for another. This, along with other examples from films and television, led me to believe that the Illuminati had embedded subliminal messages about a “soul trap” after death. I titled all of my videos exploring this theme “Avoid the 1st Light After Death (x).” I also remembered Mark Braun’s suggestion to either create videos about the Holy Grail or re-upload his own.
While re- uploading some of Mark Braun’s videos, I also developed further ideas for my own content, which I titled “The Holy Grail Video (x).” One video concept, “Mason 33° Explained,” was inspired by Mark’s observations. The common perception is that 33rd- degree Freemasons are the most dangerous. However, I posited that Masonry is actually a metaphor for a process of thought. Just as water exists as ice at 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius) and begins to melt at 33 degrees Fahrenheit (0.5 degrees Celsius), Freemasonry’s degrees extend far beyond 33. For example, performing the “Blood over intent” ritual and allowing four years to pass—representing 1,460 solar cycles around the Earth—would, according to this logic, make someone a 1460th- degree Mason.
I also created videos using reverse speech, in which my face and torso were visible. I would record myself speaking, then reverse the audio to uncover hidden messages. One commenter said I looked like a zombie, a remark that struck a nerve. I realized I did appear zombie-like, likely due to my therapy. It later occurred to me that I could have retorted, “Yes, but you’re a zombie too, you’re just unaware of it.” However, I had already deleted the videos that showed my face by then.
I discussed my videos with my father and Dr. Lucy, and they both advised me to stop making them, explaining that these videos were a contributing factor to my psychosis. I told them I would stop after I had explored all my ideas.
December
I decided to take some time off before returning to work, either at my old job or a new one. I was living with my father in Rakitje, near Zagreb. I was preoccupied with the thought that everyone in Split, including my former bosses and colleagues, knew about my naked run through the city. My mother reassured me that they likely had no idea. I contacted my former boss about my job, and he told me I could return to work in March 2021.
I contacted Sandy one day, and she told me she had just been thinking about me. We met for coffee in Zagreb and had a pleasant time catching up. I mentioned to her that I planned to move to Split the following January.
@Limbo 
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