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being in front of a collegiate panel to petition my expulsion hurts the base of my skull. the memory blossoms like a brain freeze. the harsh light, the panel on one side glaring down a single chair dead center of the harshly lit room, and there i sat as the object of the glare. i was on the verge of tears, (or was i already in tears?) and could feel the anger and scrutiny directed at me. i could see the roiling anger in their eyes, and the pursed thin lips scowling. their faces have been erased by time and suppression.
Description
The human collective conscious's zeitgeist for academia manifests as Level-XXX.
it felt like they didnt believe me. it felt like i was wasting their time. "why didn't you go on academic leave if you knew you were sick?" how could i explain to them that my father needed my grant money? that he had no job and i had no job (other than college)? how could i explain that he was taking advantage of my finances and i was too naïve to see this?
they didnt believe me. i was wasting their time. "why didn't you go on academic leave if you knew you were sick?" my face was flush
how could i explain to them that my father needed my grant money? that he had no job and i had no job (other than college)? how could i explain that he was taking advantage of my finances and i was too naïve to see this?
a "prior existing medical condition"
how was it that someone could be expelled from college for the same reason a health insurance company denies coverage?
The most commonly reported anomalous effects in Level-XXX are auditory and visual in nature. It is believed that a meta consciousness, a keter, a superego, is the level itself and is responsible for disembodied narrators, activity of the Mineris vitale (Living Statues), and responsible for the feelings of unease, and disquieting "normalcy".
i was navigating the petition alone. i couldnt ask my parents, relatives, or friends for help. i put myself into a hell of my own making. the static memories hurt, the base of my skull is numb from the headache— i knew they wouldve been mean if i asked for help. if i showed any weakness in my schooling to them i wouldve gotten yelled at, belittled, and threatened.
"maybe college just isnt for you" they said and it echoed in the architecture in the back of my mind
it was 2011. my hand was burnt from a cup of scalding coffee i got at the on campus starbucks. (just thinking about it, my left hand throbs) and i was on my way to the capstone presentation for my sculpting course. i couldnt put my stuff down to get the hot coffee off my hand. i asked for help. someone, anyone, to get napkins. why do people hate me. i couldnt put my stuff down so i hobbled through campus with a burning hand. people watched. the classroom was quiet and dimly lit, i hobbled in and threw my stuff on my seat. I quickly fished out a small bottle of aloe vera from my backpack and smeared it on the back of my hand.
the professor already didnt like me, and didnt like me "disrupting class". my left hand was purple and the slime barely alleviated the swelling. i grit my teeth and apologized and pulled out my dismal capstone; a totodile plush made of paper and paper mache. it was nearly 1:1 with an actual totodile attached to my backpack
"real art takes working down the midnight candle" i was sleep depraved. i worked on the paper plush totodile every night, "sloppy", "lazy", "unmotivated", "poorly thought-out"—my ears were hot and radiated red. i already woke up to a text that morning from my mother also calling me "unmotivated" and "lazy" because i failed my art history exam
the day before i woke up to texts love bombing me over my recent baritone recital. and an hour later i received worse texts. "are you sure you'll find a job with that?" yes, please stop asking, "im just asking! im worried about you". and later in the afternoon i get a demand telling me to change my major, it was something different each time that she "thought" i would make good money with
the student psychiatrist looked me in the eyes and reiterated multiple times that i needed a support system who could help monitor my reactions to the medication. his eyes were brown, i lied and said that i did have a support system
i was drowning in a sea of bright light, and embarrassed as a panel of twelve sharks viciously tore me a p ar t
the psych had thought that i was suffering from major depression and alongside general anxiety disorder. the doctor thought my knees were suffering from a genetic disorder, the name of which i soon forgot.
and if i had been self-aware enough, and had the humility to reach out to friends and family; someone wouldve intervened. but also would i have listened?
i was (am) trying to take care of myself. i broke up with my boyfriend shortly after the expulsion, i dont want to pull you down with me i told him
he wanted to remain friends. and i wanted to remain friends too
the week before i was forced to fly back to michigan, my granny and poppy were vacationing at one of the campgrounds at disney world. pale, and tense, and choking back tears, i felt her eyes burn through me with the same piercing belittlement— my psyche was breaking
"you're just sad. why dont you just think yourself out of it?" you're wasting my time
in order to escape, i opened facebook. i opened facebook to a message from my ex-boyfriend's step-father, "dont ever contact my son again or im getting a lawyer"
in order to escape, i opened facebook. i opened facebook to a message from my ex-boyfriend's step-father, "dont ever contact my son again or im getting a lawyer"
i couldnt be his friend. how could i tell him what his step-father told me? how could i tell him this without escalating whatever the hell was going on at his house, and in my life, even more?
i was fighting an unknown ailment, expelled from school, jobless, and suffering from a magnitude of abuse— WHY? would i also add on a law suit on top of it?
i am sisyphus
brendon, the ex, reached out to me three years later—i cant recall his initial message. but i do remember he didnt ask why i hadnt tried keeping in touch. i think he reached out to get closure in his life, i mean, from his pov i ghosted him and ran off to california. he told me he had graduated UCF and started working at siemans. he told me that he was getting married. i hope he settled down, i hope he married rich. i hope he's scarеd of only ordinary shit
The current narration from the meta conscious of Level-XXXX is the voice of a thirty year old woman with a mixed American accent from the Midwest and New England regions. At times the narration seems out of order and incomprehensible.
in 2012 my mother flew to florida and flew me back to michigan with her. that wasnt helping me and what i had be afraid of. she was blinded by her definition of help; get me back under her roof to "monitor" me. i had a final doctor appointment in florida and had her present. the doctor warned her not to force me to go back into college right away, and to not get a job immediately either. i had some rare genetic inflammatory disease and my mental health wasn't any better
"she needs to focus on getting better"
my parents ignored the doctors and forced me to go to a community college and pushed me to get my old job back at the newspaper. my mother claimed that this was "tough love", she was "teaching me good work ethics". and working would cure the disease and tire me out enough that i "wouldnt have energy to be depressed"
five months back in her house █ █████ ██ ████ ██████ ███ ████████ ██ █████ ██████ ██ ███████ ███████. █ ████ ████ ████ █████ ███, two of which were cops, ██ ██████ ███ ██████ ██ ███ ████████ ███ i woke up remembering none of this
i wasnt visited by a doctor or a nurse █████ ██████ █████ ████ ███████ █████████, █ ███ ███████ ██ █ ██████ ██████—███ ████ ██ ███ ████ █████ ██ ███ █████, ███ ████ █████ ██ ██ ██████ ███ ██████. ███ ████ ███████ ██ ████████ ███ ████████████
██ █ ███ ████ ████ █████ █ █████████ ████████ ████ █ ███ ██████ ██ ████ ██████. █ ███ ██ ███ ██████ ████████ ███ █ █████. my nervous system mustve shut down during this period. it felt like it during this entire period—through the entire period of michigan, and then to california and oregon in 2014 when i escaped her.
i tried three times to go back to college. the first two i burnt out again. i kept in contact with my mother. my mistake. i freaked out
in 2018 my mental health improved once i found a psych and therapist who listened and a physical therapist to help with my leg. in my head the rapid cycling thoughts continued, but they were at least laid out. the thoughts were no longer a ball of knotted yarn.
i enrolled at a college in portland— i was going to graduate with an associate's in a year. but her texts. her concern trolling. her "tough love". the gaslighting—it returned. i pushed past it but my body and mind were consuming themselves
covid happened—
and then the entire west coast was on fire
she wouldnt texting—
there were no excuses, she said—
i was once again a failure and stupid, she said—
"maybe college just isn't for you"
what was the point of going back to college, if a catastrophe happened every fucking time?
i failed out of college during the wild fires and i didnt bother petitioning. i no longer cared to go back to college. i set fire to the thought that i would return
Due to the level's repeated shifting into, and out of, reality and surreality full mapping is impossible. Although, this level allows only one individual at a time to enter1, the level is inhabited by small populations of hounds and living art.
A rough understanding of Level-XXX's layout is attached in the document below:
Summary of Level-XXX's Physicality
The primary areas of Level-XXX are atriums and lecture halls of varying styles of architecture. Most doors are locked in these areas. Unlocked doors lead to more lecture halls, classrooms, laboratories, dining halls, dormitories, and offices. Wanderers that have explored deeper report the presence of art and music classrooms, and well as art museums and theaters. The most common architecture in Level-XXX is Neoclassical, Modern, and Brutalist. Every area of Level-XXX is both euclidean and non-euclidean in design, that being designed with geometric shapes of cubes and spheres in mind.
Most of the level's areas are difficult to observe, even in video playback. Lecture halls seemingly copied and stacked on top of each other cut through dormitories, gymnasiums, and laboratories. The atriums also appear copied and stacked, but are merged horizontally with portions of libraries and study rooms.
Found Records:
Note XXX.1
[jotted down thoughts of a wanderer encountering a Canis inferno academia. a hellhound hunting him claws him (gouges him with his horns?). he escapes but is able to write what happened to him down while warning future wanderers not to run]
Camera Recording XXX.1
[quick notes about room/area shifts, missing arm(?) was taken into the void during a shift and the wanderer was on a theshhold(?)—kept being misled toward an exit. tries to not go into art rooms, but the level closes him off with the only way forward being through an art room.]
[…xxxxx.]
in 2021 i had to move back to her house. i wasnt moving back home because i was a "loser" and a "failure", as she messaged me every morning. i moved back because everything was shutting the fuck down. my job was gone and the rent moratoriums were about to expire. i needed somewhere safe for my pet rabbits. i couldnt afford to be homeless again and to expose them to that. the stipulation to live with them was to return to college. i tried to stay firm on my boundary, and told them i would get a job instead
i was 31 and ███ ███████ ████ ██████ ████ ████ █ ███ ██ ████ ██████. i applied to a local community college ███ ███ ██████ ██ █ ███ ████ █ ███ ████████
i never enrolled in classes
i moved into my own apartment before Fall term started, and i lied. every morning. every belittling text. the same cycle. and i was able to see clearly the energy drain it had on me, i could see how it was impossible to study
i was not in college…i realized if i ever wanted to return to college, she needed to get out of my life
Canis inferno academia
aka Subspecies hounds, Polydogs/Polygondogs, Academic Hellhounds, Athena's Hunting Dogs
DO NOT RUN AWAY FROM THE HELLHOUNDS
It is advised that any wanderer coming across a hellhound is to calmly turn around and head back in the direction the wanderer came from. If the wanderer is unable to retrace their steps due to the level reconstructing its routes, the quickest route away from the hellhound(s) is suggested.
The presence of the hellhounds, if not seen, is felt. As the hellhounds approach, the air temperature drops and wanderers can see their breath. Wanderers feel time anxiety, and dread. When visible, the hellhounds appear as brightly lit polygons in the shape of a greyhound with demonic horns. Wanderer's have reported having sudden flashbacks to moments in their schooling where a major assignment was late or a group presentation ended in embarrassment and failure while observing the hellhounds.
If a wanderer runs from the hellhounds they will hunt. There is no escape once Canis inferno academia hunts.
Mineris vitale,
aka Living Statues, Blink Fuckers, The Painted, artwork, [INCOMPREHENSIBLE], "Sculpture"
The living artwork are limited to areas resembling art classrooms and art museums. Mineris vitale at first it will appear as a non-anomalous piece of art. When a wanderer turns their back the artwork will become animate. The subject and hostility of artwork will depend on the wanderer's mental state. Reportedly, clear mental states yield Mineris vitale who appear to help the wanderer exit the level. However, impaired mental states/health yields Mineris vitale attempting to keep the wanderer trapped. This is usually done by the Mineris vitale turning the wanderer into another Mineris vitale. There is the possibility that any new Mineris vitale addition could become the next disembodied narrator.
Entrances And Exits
Entrances
There is no known way to get to this level.
Exits
i got out of hers, and ended up here