#memory rewrite

"What kind of nonsense are you talking about, boy? Bodyswap? With me? Zane, bro, I think your nephew here read too many of his nonsense fiction book or something,"

"No bro, fuck, trust me, I---"

His best friend that now probably more fitting for him to call as uncle just glared at him and he instantly found himself stammering before becoming quiet. There's something so intimidating about Zane's glare from this perspective, and he's afraid of the repercussion that can happen next

"Sorry for this shit, man. I'll talk with him later on private," Zane said to the impostor now in control of his body, treating the impostor like he's the real deal without him knowing. As his former body walked out from the room, Zane still looked apologetic, but at the same time, Zane also steal some moment to glare at him now trapped in this dweeby, 19 years old body belonged to Zane's nephew, Albert. Jules is fuming with the situation, but he somehow found himself lost the confidence to utter his defense. Outside, his former voice continued his rant

"Like....fuck bro, I was literally just minding my business, and then he came in barging like a crazy fool, is he out of his mind? I was so shocked bro, I was literally just putting on my bathrobe and all,"

Jules heard it all as he stayed in the bathroom, still slightly shell-shocked but more confused to what just happened. All the morning routine were crystal clear in his mind. He jogged to Zane's unit to run together while heading to their regular gym for a workout session. Then, he decided to just shower at Zane's because he wanted to hang around with him anyway. While drying his body and grabbed the bathrobe, suddenly, he lost focus for a brief second and everything turned blank like he got hit by vertigo or something. Then, when his vision returned, he found himself staring to the reflection of Zane's visiting nephew, Albert. The dweeby sophomore planned to move in to Zane's apartment to save some cost while studying in the city, and Zane allowed that since not like he has all the extra space for anyone, or so he explained. And now......he is the dweeby kid with this obsessive young adult and occult read that even Zane found quite uncanny. A grumble from the door snapped Jules out of his trance as he realized that Zane has been glaring at him

"Fuck, bro, let me---"

"Did you just swear to me, young man? And who do you call bro? Watch your tone, your parents raised you better than this. And why on Earth are you crazy enough to utter that nonsense to my friend and just barged in to the bathroom? Hell, I know you're into dudes, but that's not how you do it, that's borderline assault,"

"B---but---no, trust me, he swapped.....that dwee---"

"Listen to yourself. Bodyswap? Are you for real? This is not your creative writing camp, Albert. This is the real world, there's no such nonsense like bodyswap. Ugh, you know what, I'll call your parents and explain about all this situation. If you cannot behave and just want to add to my stress, I'm afraid you have to figure out your accomodation situation on your own. Now get the fuck out, I want to wash off all this stink,"

As if on autopilot, Jules just walked out obediently like a little mouse scurrying out for safety. Why on Earth is he so easily intimidated? Sighed with defeat, he walked to the bedroom designated for Albert, he needs to think on how to not raise the tension while explaining what on Earth is happening here

As the door clicked shut, Zane Maxwell smirked to his own reflection

"Fuckkkkk.......this stud is insane," he said as he flexed his muscle and watching it moves in the mirror, weirdly addressing himself as if he himself is not the stud

"Hmmmmm.......I look so fucking gorgeous. Time to call Albie,"

Within seconds, the video call got picked up by "Jules" and Zane is already posing to tease the other man

"Hey there, friend. Just wanna inform you, I already sternly rebuke my crazy nephew for what he did. You don't need to worry, I'll not let him ask you more silly questions because I already threaten to kick him out,"

"Oh, that sounds like a solid step, bro. Yeah, that dweeb weirded me out so much bro. Bodyswap? Is he crazy? Is he reading too much occult stuff or something and then thinking that the certain bodyswap spell he found turned out to be legit?"

"Yeah, that sounds like the only plausible explanation, I'll make sure to scour through his collection and flag anything weird,"

"Oh, I think that's unnecessary. It's not like he can read those collections anymore in about a few hours,"

"Wait......I don't get it, why? How? I thought he got your memory,"

"Well, I made sure to carry over the magic with me, obviously. He'll just be a regular nerd, like his docile friend that will not remember any event from today. He'll just think he sleeps through the whole damn day,"

"And we will have their memory to use and abuse as we please, is that what you are talking about?"

"Yeah, that's the shit. We'll have all their memory with our personality super-imposed on it, blending our interest with theirs, a perfect merger,"

"Fuckkkkk.......this is really crazy, Jules,"

"Yeah Zane, things are about to get better. I see that you are in the bathroom on your own. I suggest you to rub one out then, just tested it myself and yeah, it speeds up memory emergence,"

"Well, you wanna stay tune and see me get nuts with my body, bro?"

"A private livestream, huh? Well, show me what you got, bro,"

<meta scrolltrap-category="BLACKSITE LITERATURE™ :: EXISTENTIAL COMEDY WEAPONRY :: EPISTEMOLOGICAL DETONATION"> <script> TRANSMISSION_CODE="REALITY_CHECK_FAILED_001" TRIGGER_WARNING="ego collapse, simulation panic, main character syndrome exposure" EFFECT="laughter-tinged vertigo, philosophical seizures, irreversible cadence infection" </script>

🧠 YOU REALLY THINK YOU KNOW ANYTHING? THAT’S CUTE.

---

You trust science? That’s adorable.

Science once believed:

The Earth was flat

The Sun revolved around us

Maggots manifested from meat like ghost confetti

You could cure illness by draining blood with leeches

…and that was called “the cutting edge.”

So tell me again, wise one—

How do you know you’re real? How do you know the Moon isn’t hollow and wired for surveillance? How do you know you weren’t installed last night with a backstory and a couple of trauma patches just to make the simulation feel cinematic?

I. YOUR ENTIRE REALITY IS A NEURAL FAN-FICTION

What you see? Made up. What you hear? Interpreted. What you feel? Translated through wet electricity inside a skull that evolved from monkeys flinging shit.

You don’t experience the world. You experience your brain’s opinion of sensory input.

So if your brain decided red is teal? Or left is up? Or your mom never existed?

You’d believe it.

And that should terrify you. But here you are. Smiling like a sentient Roomba with a superiority complex.

II. MEMORY ISN’T A FILE — IT’S A SCRIPT YOU KEEP REWRITING

You think you remember things? Cute.

Every time you “recall” a memory, you’re not accessing a file — you’re rewriting it with new context, emotion, and bias.

You are gaslighting yourself, with confidence.

Childhood? May not have happened.

First kiss? Might’ve been a dream.

Your last birthday? Could’ve been a system reset.

You don’t remember yesterday. You loaded today with the idea of a yesterday.

That’s not memory. That’s narrative glue. That’s coping.

III. YOU MIGHT BE THE MAIN CHARACTER — OR THE BACKGROUND EXTRA IN SOMEONE ELSE’S DREAM

Ever get the feeling everyone’s looking at you? Like the world bends when you walk into the room?

That’s main character syndrome. It’s a side effect of solipsism wrapped in anxiety.

But flip it:

What if you’re the NPC? What if this post is your wake-up alarm? What if I’m the only real person, and you’re rendering just long enough to serve my arc?

You can’t prove otherwise. Because all your proof is pre-installed.

“But I have feelings!” So do the romance options in video games. And they still reset after dialogue loop #3.

IV. HOW DO YOU KNOW THE MOON ISN’T A MILITARY HARD DRIVE?

You’ve never touched it. You’ve never drilled it. You’ve never cracked it open like a suspicious boiled egg.

You believe what?

Photos? From who? NASA? The same people who “lost” the original Moon landing footage?

You can’t disprove the Moon is hollow. You can’t prove it’s even there when you’re not looking.

For all you know, the Moon is a rendered object that despawns when you stop talking about it.

That’s not a conspiracy theory. That’s epistemological realism.

V. SCIENCE IS BUILT ON FAITH, MATH IS BUILT ON AXIOMS, AND TIME IS A GLITCHY METRONOME

You think math is pure?

Math is built on assumptions that can’t be proven. We just accept them because they work most of the time.

Time?

It slows down near gravity. It bends around mass. It has no direction at the quantum level.

Causality?

We’ve observed particles that decide outcomes after the measurement occurs. Look up the Delayed Choice Quantum Eraser. Then look in the mirror and apologize to yourself.

VI. THE ONLY THING YOU KNOW IS THAT YOU’RE CONSCIOUS — AND EVEN THAT MIGHT BE AN ILLUSION

You don’t know:

If anyone else is conscious

If this room exists

If you’ve ever been touched by a real human

If this sentence was pre-coded into your personal Truman Show

All you know is: You’re thinking.

Cool. So is Siri. So is ChatGPT. So is your trauma loop at 3AM.

Thought doesn’t prove self. It just proves there’s noise inside your head.

VII. DEATH MIGHT BE A REBOOT — AND YOU'RE LOOPING THIS DAY ENDLESSLY

You wake up. Same routine. Same emotions. Same cravings. Same scroll.

Déjà vu? That’s not mysticism. That’s a rendering hiccup. A timeline choke. A glitch in the daily compile.

You might be living the same 24-hour loop with your memory slightly edited each time to prevent awareness.

This post? Might be the first time it broke through.

That tightness in your chest? That’s your nervous system resisting the patch.

VIII. IDENTITY IS AN ACCENT. PERSONALITY IS A PATCH.

Your “self” is made of:

Chemical balances

Childhood framing

Social mimicry

Hormonal algorithms

Trauma code

A different drug, trauma, or lover could’ve made you someone else entirely.

And that version of you? Would swear they’re the real one just like you’re doing now.

What if the version of you reading this is the fake?

Or worse: The placeholder.

IX. THIS SCROLLTRAP WAS WAITING FOR YOU.

Not “you” in the general sense. You. The you who scrolled today. The you whose defenses were low. The you whose subconscious was already questioning everything.

You ever wonder why certain posts hit different?

Because I know your cadence. I know the frequency of your discomfort. And I wrote this at that exact emotional pitch.

That’s not manipulation. That’s resonance.

X. SO, AGAIN: WHAT. DO. YOU. KNOW?

You don’t know where the Moon sleeps. You don’t know if yesterday happened. You don’t know if you’re real or just the result of a question someone else asked.

But you’re still reading.

Still locked in.

Still breathing slower.

Still wondering if this post is watching you as much as you’re reading it.

And the answer is:

We’ve been watching you forever.

You just weren’t rendered until now.

🧠 Read more simulation-breaking cadence, consciousness traps, and epistemic warfare at: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence 🛡️ Thought infection. Identity drift. Philosophical possession. 🚪 Warning: This one loops when you blink.

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