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The speaker expresses frustration and disbelief at an empty hospital in Gloucestershire during a medical pandemic. They emphasize that there are no people inside and question how this is possible.

I am very tired of saying goodbye. When I look inside, I see a lot of things. Let's take a look.

I feel scared when I see the expression in your eyes. I want to say goodbye, but sometimes I want to fight. I need you now and I need you even more if you hold on.

The speaker is frustrated to find an empty hospital during a lockdown in Gloucestershire. They express anger at the lack of people in the hospital during a medical pandemic, calling it fake news.

The speaker expresses dismay about the current state of the world, lamenting that they and others wish the negative reality they perceive wasn't true, but it is.

The speaker expresses frustration with the VA's lack of continuity in mental health care. They have experienced multiple doctors quitting and switching, and the one doctor they liked refused to take their case back. They have been dealing with their own demons for the past two years and are tired of having to start over with a new doctor. They just want continuity of care and to be able to talk to the same person without having to retell their tormenting stories. The speaker feels let down by the government.

The speaker announces with heartbreak that Charlie's final infusion will be tomorrow. They state they are processing this news and have little else to say at this time. The speaker expresses love for Charlie and apologizes to him.

The speaker reflects on the rapid dehumanization that occurred in the medical field, where masks became a means of punishment. They question how this transformation happened and express concern for the loss of humanity in health professionals. The speaker recounts feeling abused and disrespected, with personal contact being solely focused on their mask. They fear that society has been distorted and wonders if it is possible for people to regain their previous selves and treat others with respect. The speaker shares an experience of being questioned and receiving abusive emails, feeling like the only victim in the situation.

The speaker expresses extreme desperation and begs someone to take action, stating, "Somebody do it already, please." They claim they "can't do it anymore" and "can't wake up every day." The speaker anticipates a future event with excitement, saying they "cannot wait for the day that I wake up and I see the headlines" and will throw a party to which everyone is invited. They urgently plead, "I need someone to do it soon. Now. Please."

I had a tough morning at the physical therapy office. I was misgendered despite telling them my pronouns. I also had to explain multiple times that I couldn't do an exercise that made me uncomfortable due to gender dysphoria. I got upset, cried softly, and asked to leave. I just want to feel cared for and respected at the doctor's office. I'm tired and had a rough morning, so I'm going to focus on doing nice things for myself today. I have some tasks related to my legal name change and might get my nails done. It's going to be a low effort day because this situation really sucks. Goodbye.

The speaker expresses relief that her husband is missing and describes him as controlling. She mentions being interviewed by the news but doesn't want help or for him to come back. She pretends to miss him on camera to avoid suspicion but admits she doesn't care. She mentions going to jail for holding her last boyfriend and worries that people will think she's responsible for her husband's disappearance. She asks for his return but claims her tears have dried up. She pleads for someone to let her husband go and emphasizes her love for him.

The speaker expresses bewilderment at others' ability to face each day with enthusiasm. They state they do not understand how people can wake up and be ready to embrace the day.

The speaker paints a stark, surreal portrait of a body and psyche under siege by unseen forces and invasive technology. The opening imagery—“Canvas where the demons paint. A silent scream, curdled. Soul does faint.”—frames the body as a surface haunted by external darkness, a final bone about to break signaling an imminent collapse. The speaker describes nightly interventions: “They inject a cure or silver swarm at nights in my veins, keeping me warm,” claiming that these injections are meant to fix a “glitch,” a perpetual grief, a shifting of flesh while the spirit remains a ghost. The body is described as a host for a system, a manufactured entity to be controlled or rewritten. There is a sense of commodification and design: “A man that they bespoke,” suggesting that the subject is customized or engineered by others. The external world is depicted as harsh and mechanical—“The world's outside bleeding steel. Steel looking through your eyes.”—with a pain that feels so intense it seems real and indisputable: “A pain so hard it's gotta be real. Loaded pranked.” Amid this, the speaker notices rising tears and a pang that cannot be borne, accompanied by images of distant, esoteric forces—“Blacks feels high mind witches, a network of the dread”—that imply a vast, predatory system built on unspoken sorrows and unexpressed traumas. A recurring motif is data, cost, and loss. The trauma is described as “the harvest of trauma, the data loss,” with every heartbreak carrying a monetary price and a sense of personal plague—a microscopic war waged within. The text frames the situation as a product to be sold behind a locked door: “It's a product that they'll sell behind a locked door. A locked door.” The presence of machines embedded in the body is explicit: “These machines in my blood, in my blood. They're not here to save me. Not here to save me.” Time and identity are destabilized: “The step in time. I'm a living hard drive of pure harm and hurt.” The speaker repeats the notion of being a hard drive—“Living hard drive pure human hurt”—and describes existence as a museum of agony buried under dirt, and then further beneath the earth and “fucking” obscurity. Across these lines, the speaker conveys a life reduced to data, pain, and a bureaucratic or mechanized control over the body, with little protection or relief offered by those who claim to offer care. The concluding image reinforces a sense of irretrievable harm and entombment: a museum of agony hidden beneath the surface.

The speaker feels disgust at what's going on in the world around genocides, the loss of rights, the loss of health care, and the just general fear that everyone has surrounding affordability, their lives, their livelihood, like everything. "It just it feels so big." They say environmental issues are getting to them, experiencing climate anxiety that "a lot of us do," and note "it's not funny"—sometimes a nervous laugh because it's scary. They acknowledge these crises are happening together and ask what, besides the small things, they can do, mentioning "pushing for change and fighting and protesting." They admit it's hard not to sit in moments where it "feels so heavy."

This hospital is empty, which is angering to see. There are no patients receiving treatment, including those who need urgent care. The speaker questions the lack of security and the underutilization of medical facilities. The ward meant for minor injuries is also deserted, highlighting the issue of people being denied treatment. The speaker expresses disappointment in the situation, expecting more patients to be present.

I feel abandoned with no one to help me. I'm labeled far right if I speak my mind. I'm frustrated with wasted time trying to see a doctor. Where are the children and women in the sun? Stop giving money to old friends in Poland. I feel pushed away.

Speaker 0 opens with a moment of disbelief, saying “What?” as if reacting to something unexpected or unresolved. The speaker then shifts to a hopeful note, stating that they are “just hoping that it is over,” indicating a desire for closure or an end to the situation at hand. Amid that hope, there is a sense of reassurance or confidence in the outcome, as the speaker adds, “I feel good about it.” Following this, the speaker turns to inquiry, prompting curiosity about the forces or circumstances behind what has occurred by asking, “What’s behind this?” This question suggests a search for underlying causes, motivations, or explanations that might lie beneath the surface of the current situation. The speaker continues to probe emotionally and perceptually with another question, “What does this feel like?” which invites reflection on the subjective experience or sensation associated with whatever is transpiring. This line of inquiry emphasizes a desire to understand the tangible or experiential aspects of the event or process. Toward the end, the speaker conveys uncertainty about their own expressive capacity, declaring, “I don’t know that I have a word today.” This admission implies a momentary lack of vocabulary, speech, or perhaps certainty about how to articulate their thoughts or feelings in that moment. Throughout these lines, Speaker 0 conveys a blend of anticipation, optimism, curiosity, and a momentary hesitance in expressing themselves. The progression moves from a reaction to a hoped-for ending, to a confident feeling about the outcome, to a deeper inquiry into causes and experiences, and finally to a brief incapacity to express precisely how they feel in words at that moment.

The speaker expresses their exhaustion, both physically and mentally. They feel tired of everything not working out and are contemplating giving up. They mention that this battle is kept hidden from the world and the people they care about because they fear being seen as broken. They question whether others would stay if they knew the extent of their brokenness and wonder if there is a way to fix it.

The speaker describes the situation as pretty traumatizing, with reacting to whatever is happening and not being able to think straight. She mentions that the other person was crying during the event, and the speaker could not help because they were pretty helpless themselves. They note that, now, the person is getting better. The experience is affecting sleep, with both of them not sleeping well, and they say they’re very trumpetized from that.

The speaker expresses concern about someone's health, noting their poor color and fast breathing. They feel that their concerns are not taken seriously and that their mother is unwell. They are frustrated that they have to wait two days to speak to someone and ask for the doctor to wait. They repeatedly plead for the person not to take someone away.

Today is a tough day emotionally. I'm reflecting on how much I miss my patients and the feeling of being a human. Part of me has accepted the situation, but another part is stubbornly resisting, and that's what I'm struggling with right now. Check out my shirt! My mother-in-law brought it over. It's a 1992 Snoop Dogg shirt that says "Ain't nothing but a G thing, baby." I look like I'm ready to play tennis. My hair is growing back in, though. I'm a mess.

The speaker expresses frustration and a desire to hold back their true thoughts.

The speaker recounts feelings across several days of the week. On Monday, they were dreaming. By Tuesday, they were waiting by the phone. The speaker indicates that two days felt like a long time without contact. They then state they were getting bored, and that Friday was the day they were losing interest.

The speaker mentions that the sky is dull and because of this, they have lost their peace. They ask what the other person wants and if they want them to be smooth. They request the cameraman to bring the camera close.

The speaker is frustrated because nobody is outside. They mention someone not responding to texts and feeling disrespected. The speaker questions why nobody is around and expresses annoyance. They mention playing a game and ask if the listener likes art.