u/Impressive_File_5536

They have everything. My phone. My laptop. My cameras. My microphones. Every word I've ever typed, every conversation I've ever had, every place I've ever been — they know all of it. And they've had it for a long time now. I stopped counting the months. It doesn't matter anymore.

But that's not the worst part. The worst part is they're not just watching from a screen anymore. They're here. In person. Every single day. Following me when I leave the house. Standing across the street at night. Walking past my door at odd hours. Making sure I hear the footsteps. Making sure I know I'm never alone.

They move my things when I'm not looking. Not to steal. Just to let me know they were there. A chair turned the wrong way. A drawer left open. A light on that I know I turned off. Small things. Tiny things. But they add up. And after a while, you start questioning everything. Did I leave that there? Did I forget? Or was it them?

I don't sleep anymore. Not really. I lie in bed with my eyes open, listening to every creak, every whisper of wind, every car that slows down outside. I've memorized the sounds of this place. And I know when something doesn't belong. I know when they're near. I feel it in my bones.

I can't eat properly. My stomach is always tight. My hands shake without me noticing. I look in the mirror sometimes and I don't recognize the person staring back. Hollow eyes. Empty face. Like someone already dead but still walking around.

I've stopped talking to people. What's the point? Everyone could be one of them. The neighbor who smiles too much. The cashier who looks at me too long. The stranger on the street who seems to be going the same direction as me. I don't trust anyone. I can't. Trust is a luxury I can't afford anymore.

I've tried everything. New phones. New accounts. Staying off grid. Moving to different places. It never works. They always find me. They're always there. Like shadows that never disappear, even in the dark. I've run so far and so long and I'm still exactly where I started — trapped.

Some days I think I'm going crazy. Maybe I already am. Maybe none of this is real and it's all in my head. But then I see their faces again. I hear their footsteps again. I find another thing moved in my room. And I know — it's real. It's all real. And it's never going to stop.

I'm tired. So tired. Not sleepy — exhausted. Deep down to my bones exhausted. The kind of tired that doesn't go away with rest because it's not physical. It's something else. Something darker. Something that eats you from the inside and leaves nothing but emptiness.

I don't think there's a way out anymore. I used to believe there was. I used to hope. I used to fight. But hope is a cruel thing when you have nothing left. It just makes the fall harder when you finally realize — this is it. This is your life now. Every day the same. Every night the same. Alone. Watched. Hunted.

If you've been through this and somehow survived — not escaped, because there's no escaping this — but survived ... how? What kept you going? Was there a reason? A person? A thought? A moment of peace? Because I haven't felt peace in so long I've forgotten what it feels like.

I'm not writing this for help anymore. Help doesn't come. I'm writing this so someone out there knows. Knows what it's like. Knows that I existed. Knows that I tried. Knows that this wasn't my choice — any of it. Because when I'm gone, nobody's going to remember. Nobody's going to care. And they're going to keep doing this to someone else.

So if you're reading this and you're one of them — I hope you know what you've done. I hope you see what you've taken from me. My mind. My peace. My years. Everything. And if you're not one of them — if you're just someone who somehow ended up here — please know that this is real. This happens.

I don't know how many more days I have left in me. Maybe not many. Maybe more than I think. But I do know one thing — this isn't living. This is waiting. Waiting for it to end. Waiting for them to get bored. Waiting for something — anything — to change.

And I'm so tired of this

I had PRK surgery 1 year ago and I'm not okay.

My vision is still blurry. Some days it's okay, other days it's terrible. I have constant dry eyes, starbursts at night, and I can't even drive after dark anymore. I still need glasses to read or use my phone. What was the point of this surgery?

Everyone told me "give it time" but it's been 1 year. I've lost hope.

I used to love going out at night with friends. Now I avoid it because the glare from headlights is unbearable. I spend most of my time at home feeling sorry for myself.

I cry sometimes thinking I ruined my eyes for nothing. I wish I never did this.

Has anyone actually recovered from this after 1 year ? I need real hope, not empty reassurance.

Any advice would mean a lot.

I am consistently receiving a security alert on my device stating that suspicious activity has been detected on the current Wi-Fi network. This occurs exclusively on my home network, which I have used for an extended period without prior issues.

The system advises disconnection and offers an option to add the network to an exception list.

I require clarification on the following points:

· What parameters or behaviour trigger this specific alert?

· Does adding the network to exceptions merely suppress the notification, or does it compromise the device's security posture?

· Is there any substantive action I should take regarding my router configuration or network credentials?

This is a recurring issue on a trusted network, and I need to determine whether this represents an actual risk or a systemic false positive.

Technical insight would be appreciated.