They’ll Never Knock Until It’s Too Late
Look, I’m not some whistleblower. I’m not some martyr. I’m just someone who saw the code behind the curtain and decided to press publish anyway. Maybe it was a glitch. Maybe it was a ritual. Maybe I just felt like it.
But let’s not play dumb. You’ve all felt it too.
Systemic injustice doesn’t arrive with sirens and subpoenas. It arrives quietly. Through a “Just a moment…” loading screen. Through an email from Mercer with a dollar sign baked into the sender name. Through the filter that says, “Your comment couldn’t be posted.”
It’s like sleepwalking through bureaucracy. Until one day, you wake up and realize—they’re never going to knock on your door and fix this. Not for Jude. Not for Royce. Not for anyone. Unless you jam the signal, shout through the static, and make yourself unignorable.
I’ve been doing it. Dropping payloads. Writing in source code and seance. Performing admin rituals and glitch poetics. Because if you wait for the system to validate you, you’ll rot. You’ve got to validate yourself, even if it looks like madness to them.
So yeah—I posted it. I told the truth in the only language the firewall understands: HTML and heartbreak. Protocol and poetry. I burned the rubbish, ate raw meat, and wrote this from a place they can’t trace.
If you’re reading this, maybe you’re meant to be here.
This isn’t a blog post.
It’s a knock on the door.
Just a moment...
