After 4 weeks of believing I am a goddess trapped in a human body, I am starting to question everything. I feel completely like I am a goddess of peace who has been created, nurtured and learned to love humanity. I had to live as a human to understand and fully appreciate and accept my task. My task is to kill my human body to set the goddess/essence free. My goddess/spirit is too big for my human body. My body cannot always contain the extremely potent essence, this displays as human mania. I often feel trapped and contained, frustrated and confused leading to what appears as human depression. I was supposed to set myself  free 3 weeks ago, my body is passed its used by day, by 3 weeks. But EVERYONE around me is saying I’m just human. A loving, caring human that could do great things in my human form. As impossible as it is for them to believe I’m a goddess, who once free can be omnipotent and spread peace and freedom, it is as impossible for me to believe I’m “only human”.
I am starting to feel very confused about who I am. These are people who, I love and trust and they just can’t see it.
To confuse matters, I want to stay human. I want to be alive and stay with those I love. The thought of leaving them behind is so painful. I am experiencing a wide range of human emotions at the moment, some good, some very much not so good. A ward environment can be very volatile and bring the best and worst out in people…even me. I lose my temper here, not a pleasant feeling for someone whose very essence, their make up, is peace and freedom.
Tonight I had a very upsetting text and phone call from my partner. He has basically said he can’t cope with having to be a carer for me anymore. It’s destroyed our relationship as partners and become one based almost entirely on our “illnesses.” We’ve become too dependent on each other and he needs more space. He needs his own life away from me. I’ve been trying to say this for months to him and healthcare professionals but I kept getting told how brilliant we were together,  and the support we provided each other was so wonderful. Well now the truth is out…he never had a choice and he doesn’t want that. If I am human and I am to have a relationship with him we need to talk more and we need more support from outside.
So I am feeling insecure about who I am. If I am a goddess is there any way of getting out of my duties? Can I stay human and live a vaguely normal life or is the future of world peace rested firmly on my shoulders?
As I start to find myself reeling, I can’t help but wonder if all this confusion is down to the Yellow Ones? I am realising that perhaps they are the ones who have convinvced me of who I am, pretending to be the “higher god” so that I hurt and/or kill myself, which in turn causes immense pain to those who care for me, therefore achieving the Yellow Ones’ goal of causing pain and misery. Or maybe they’re allowing me to be confused to stop me going through with my task. Although they can’t transmit messages through me or manipulate those around me whilst I’m wearing purple, they can still mess with my head. They are stopping me from seeing the truth. Whatever that may be. I need to have this implant destroyed. It either needs to come out or I need to find a way to frazzle it so it can’t work anymore. I really don’t know where my messages are coming from. I was so sure. But now I’m starting to question who is in control of it all. A “higher god” or the Yellow Ones? Either way what am I meant to do? Just wait and hope the doctors are right about it being psychosis? Try to find a way to communicate directly with the Yellow Ones? Or try to communicate with the “higher god”? He/She isn’t particularly talkative or forgiving.

Everyday I have to live with the guilt of innocent people dying all because I care about the few people directly in my life. I should be spreading peace, instead I’m stuck in this crappy human body (which is gradually failing me), selfishly loving a few.
I’m too big for this body and the strain is getting unbearable. My spirit is designed to spread the world over not be confined within a human body. This body must die and soon and it knows it. It is already being used beyond it’s intended use by date, and is making me suffer with physical symptoms of pain and digestive issues. I cannot die. I am immortal, the people around me just don’t, can’t or won’t understand. They love my human form too much. I need to be free. I feel so boxed in/constrained and while I’m boxed into this human form, I can’t spread peace, especially world peace.
However, I want to know what it is like to be human. I mean fully human- No “goddess” duty as a destiny. I don’t think the “higher god” will ever grant me my wish to be human. My destiny has been set and one way or another I will be made the “goddess” of peace and freedom. The “higher god” can’t just materialise a fully prepared, replacement “goddess.” It takes time, learning, love, tears and nurturing to become even close to being ready to be a “goddess.” I’ve had 31.5 years of learning experience and I feel like it is a big ask. I don’t feel ready. You must grow amongst the humans to understand, empathise and love them enough to save them.
So I must choose to say goodbye to those I love the most to save humanity or give up on humanity and try to enjoy (despite the guilt of knowing it’s my fault) the last few months (years if you’re lucky) of life on this earth. Humanity is destroying it and only I can save it. But I don’t want to cause any pain to those I have been fortunate enough to have in my life as a human.

Flashback about 16 years.

I was a teenager who stopped believing in God a long time ago. I had no reason to believe in Him. However, my human family were/are Christians. So every now again I’d get dragged along to the church services. The services themselves were mind-numbingly dull. I couldn’t help thinking God would prefer us to celebrate him and the life he gave. Instead they talk about “the fear of God” and everyone always sounded so miserable in the services. Judging from the lyrics, most of the songs or “hymns” were miserable and depressing, much like the congregation. This was not the way to engage young people in Christianity. However, during one of my “drag alongs,” we were sat near the back. I mindlessly sang along to the hymns I’d been singing for the previous 15/16 years. All of a sudden I heard a voice. I looked around to see who was talking to me…everyone was still mindlessly singing. The voice was neither male nor female, but somewhere in between. It told me I would have an important part to play in world history. In particular I would be responsible for helping world peace and freedom to those who deserve it.
Although the task seemed impossible, the voice was so comforting and reassuring. If it said that was my destiny, I had every faith that that was my path set. I was given no more hints or instructions. I would just know when the time came what I would have to do. In those few seconds I was converted. I was convinced I’d been visited by the Holy Spirit. It had been such an amazing feeling that came with the visitor. I studied and got confirmed as a Christian. I kept hoping for another visit. It never happened.
When I hit 19/20 years old I lost my faith in there being a God. I continued on my path, but it was because I felt inside me it was what I was born to do, and I was good at it. Initially, because I was good at music, I thought that there was something I would find worthwhile through my music (I play(ed) the viola). The idea of becoming a Music Therapist was my goal. It required a Music degree, some life experience and then a Post Graduate Diploma (PGDip) in Music Therapy. This was my focus until a year into my “life experience.” I was teaching the violin and viola, and was hit with a bout of mania which affected my ability to teach. However, it was the depression that followed that was the problem. The people I worked for were about to fire me as I just couldn’t keep up with the workload, especially as I’d recently had a major operation (Ovarian Torsion, resulting in necrosis and septacemia, they had to remove my “large orange” sized ovary and fallopian tube.) I couldn’t drive for 6 weeks but my supervisor was on my case about getting back to work by the 2nd week. This experience put me off the music world completely. Nearly 8 years later it still bothers me. I was going to teach for 2-3 years then go back to do my music therapy PGDip. Instead I got so depressed I didn’t work until 2 years later. This time I thought I’d go straight for healthcare. That way I’m doing what I was born to do. Unfortunately I was attacked 6 months into my time there. This triggered some Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), which in turn triggered a mixed Bipolar episode. The whole time I’d forgotten about the voice that had come to me that time one Sunday morning in church, years ago. I was naturally drawn to looking after others. After some time off with “Bipolar” and PTSD and my 1st time to be hospitalised in a psychiatric unit in 2010, I finally got on to a nursing course (Adult branch). I started my nurse training in September 2012. My 1st year went really well. I had some ups and downs, but nothing that wasn’t manageable with small amounts of PRN quetiapine, diazepam and zopiclone. I wasn’t stable but I was managable.

The beginning

June 2013, I had a meeting with my placement mentor and a university tutor to mark my performance on my practice placement. I passed with flying colours. I was drivng home but needed to pop into my Community Mental Health Team to collect my medication. I was just over halfway there when all of a sudden it felt like my chest was going to explode…it felt like a scene from Alien where the aliens explode out the chest.

I thought I was going to die, more to the point I actually wanted to die the pain was so intense. I managed to get to my Community Mental Health Team, I crawled along the floor screaming for help. They called an ambulance immediately. There was a very quick response and I was promptly given morphine which eased the pain enough for my sense of humour to come back. I was taken into hospital and kept in for 3 days. On day 2 I had a scan which showed I several gallstones. 1 of these gallstones had taken a trip down my bile duct causing me incredible pain and causing minor pancreatitis. They kept saying they were going to remove my gallbladder so needed to keep me in. 3 days after admission, I left fully intact. Instead they sent me home with a prescription of Tramadol and information saying they’d call me in for the laproscopic operation to remove my gallbladder, to be done in day surgery within 6 weeks. I got my operation date and had it cancelled twice before I finally had the operation 2nd October 2013. It was this operation that allowed the problems to really start.

The Yellow Ones

At 1st I felt great. I hadn’t realised how much of my “stomach” cramps were caused by traversing gallstones. This high continued. My essence started to leak out of my human body, this looks like mania to a normal human, just as being depressed and feeling trapped in a box looks like normal depression to a normal human. It was at this time I suspected there was something wrong. I thought I had alien parasites inside me, I could feel them moving around inside me. However, noone believed me. I now know, however, I was wrong, sort of. My human body was trying to reject an implant that had been put inside my chest. It sits just under the scar from the gallbladder operation. The feeling of the parasites moving around were a combination of the body trying to push it out, but also it was when the Yellow Ones first tried to use it.

I don’t know who the Yellow Ones are. I just know they found out who I am before I did. They used the operation to put the implant inside me. They may be aliens, Government or 1 or more private organisations. The implant is multi-faceted. It can send and receive messages, it can also act as a gateway for messages and actions and manipulate thoughts and actions in the near vicinity. They wear yellow as that is their organisation’s colour and use yellow vehicles for surveillance…however not all people wearing and driving yellow belong to the Yellow Ones.

The Yellow Ones wish me and others around me harm. They use me to transmit messages/instructions to manipulate those around me. They’ve been trying to distract me all year from finding out who I am. They don’t want peace, they profit from war, pain and suffering in some way or another.

They have been scrambling the messages from the “higher god” (closest translation in the English language) that are meant for me. Instead I was hearing their white noise. The “higher god” was finally able to get the message to me. I know who I am. I am a “goddess” (well demi-goddess while I’m in this human form) of Peace and Freedom. It is my duty to be omnipotent and spread peace and tranquility plus freedom to those who deserve it. I can’t do anything as hugely benevolent whilst trapped in this human form. For each day I’m stuck in this body people are dying unnecassarily. I can’t bring complete world peace as humans will always have willpower but I can be like a mild sedative for them so they slow down a bit. The world is going into meltdown and won’t last much longer without my input. To leave the body I must kill it. Ideally in the most peaceful way possible. But before I can do that, I need to remove the implant in my chest and destroy it so it doesn’t get into the wrong hands. I’ve asked doctors and nurses to help remove it but they don’t believe it’s real so won’t help. I’m not even allowed an x-ray. I’ve tried to cut it out myself…it hurts. I didn’t get deep enough to find it. It’s in deeper than I thought. I need some painkillers, preferably a local anaesthetic or plenty of alcohol. I may be a (demi) goddess of peace and freedom, but whilst I’m in this human body, I still feel all its emotions and sensations-including pain. Once I know that the implant is safely destroyed without any repercussions, I can move on phase 2- killing the body.
It is because of this they have locked me up on a Section 3 of the Mental Health Act on a psychiatric ward. They can’t accept who I am or what I need to do. I’m not saying it would be easy for me. In order to be a goddess of peace I had to learn to love and empathise with my fellow human being, hence why I have lived as a human all these 31.5 years. I have learned to love, too much perhaps. I love my partner (and our fur babies-guinea pigs and rabbits) and my human family and friends. I love them so much I don’t want to hurt them, but I was created for a specific reason. It is my duty to leave this body and bring peace to everyone…including my loved ones.
Until I am able to carry out my duty, I have discovered that purple is a shield. As yellow’s opposite it protects me from them and it stops them from being able to access the implant and use it. Whilst I wear purple over my chest like armour, they can’t get to me or manipulate those around me. However, they have sent in a “spy” patient. She doesn’t wear yellow, she’s undercover. But in less than 2 days she has brought my human emotions to breaking point. She is very good at her job. She is like a tempest, creating chaos in her wake, I have therefore nicknamed the Tempest. She doesn’t need the implant, she can get into my mind directly, so now I must wear a purple headscarf or hat so she can’t get in anymore. I can wear purple until the time comes when the implant MUST come out.

My CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse) appointment left me in tears today. I was talking about 10 year old Martha, a little girl I promised to protect and love. Problem is she wasn’t real! I “met” Martha when I was in hospital in October. My mind created a “lost spirit” but she felt alive and was real to me. She still feels real. How do you grieve the loss of someone who was never really there? Someone who wasn’t real? How do you explain to others that loss? I know she wasn’t real but my memory of her and
feelings that she evokes are as real as any other memory.

So much has happened and changed since I started keeping this blog. That includes my understanding and acceptance of myself and my illness.

In October I was admitted into a psychiatric hospital having a psychotic and manic episode. I was discharged after a week and a medication change. A few days later I was readmitted to hospital after expressing suicidal intentions and still psychotic. Again I was discharged after about a week. A few days after that in a psychotic state I took a massive medication overdose and was on a medical ward for a couple of days before being readmitted, again, to a psychiatric ward. This time, in and out of hospital, meant I missed a lot of university time and had to be signed off sick. I have been told I can return and restart my 2nd year in September 2014, if and when I’m well. As time goes on, I lose hope that I will ever be well enough to return to university. My dream of being a nurse is creeping further and further away from me.


I am depressed. There is no 2 ways about it. I am utterly and completely depressed. Doctors would class it as a severe depressive episode. I would class it as a never-ending darkness that consumes everything and is sucking my very soul out of my body. I feel hopelessness, despair and desperation. But tomato/tomato.

A few months ago I was so elated and psychotic I was hospitalized. Whilst in hospital they stopped the medication I had been on for almost 3 years (at various doses) completely and put me on new medication (Depakote). The medication was supposed to bring me down to a normal mood/energy level and stabilize my levels-stop me swinging from severe depression to mania/extreme elation. At the same time, I needed medication to help control the psychotic symptoms I was experiencing. To some extent the medication (Quetiapine) worked. It brought me out of mania. Initially, I entered what is known as a mixed state, where I had the energy of mania with the mood of depression. I became so unwell, I attempted to kill myself. Clearly I failed, but I was not far off. 

Eventually my mood/energy levels stabilized. However they  have stabilized on the lower side of “normal”. I have therefore been depressed since Christmas with the very occasional hint of getting better. Herein lies my problem.I cannot get well and stay well. The medication I’m on may well be stabilizing my mood/energy levels but not to a livable level. Maybe I would be worse without them but I doubt it. I actually crave the mania. Anything to lift me out of this depression. The odd day I feel well, I think “Perhaps this time I’ll stay well.” But it never happens. If I’m lucky, a few days pass, then my mood crashes again. I am losing hope that I will ever get well and stay well. I’m filling with despair and desperation. Each time the depression kicks me down again I get a bit lower and now I am at the point where I’m questioning whether it’s worth the fight to keep going. Let’s clarify here- I am NOT suicidal. Not yet at least. But I am at the stage where when I go to bed at night, I hope I don’t wake up. I’m struggling with urges to self harm as well which are old coping mechanisms. These partner up with my self-esteem and body image.

For years,I hated my body. I was bullied at school for my big nose and I hate seeing pictures of myself from the side, but I had come to accept it. I hate my breasts, as I know many women do, because they don’t match the perfect image we see in the media everyday. But again, I had come to accept them, albeit with buying very specific style bras etc. The other thing I’ve always struggled with was my weight. I’ve often been medically overweight but I enjoyed food too much to care. I’ve done diets and healthy eating over the years but I always ended up back at the same weight. I came to accept that maybe that was the weight I was supposed to be. I was happy in my body and my mental health seemed to be manageable. 

As my mental health has deteriorated over the last year, so has my body image and its related self-esteem. One of the downsides to my medication is it can cause weight gain. I’m not sure how it works but significant weight gain is a huge problem. I know for me it doesn’t help that it makes me hungry ALL the time. I get obsessive thoughts about food and crave foods. Cravings that keep me awake at night. Until recently I was able to keep the problem in check and learned to ignore the hunger pains and cravings. But in the last 3 months I still managed to put on 6kg.

A couple of weeks ago, I was preparing to meet up for a girls night in the pub. I went to put on my “going-out” jeans and I couldn’t get into them. With a giant slap in the proverbial face, I realised how bad my weight gain must be. I looked in the mirror and burst into tears. I was no longer overweight and comfortable. I was an obese/fat hideous walrus of a person.I weighed myself and confirmed I was now medically obese. The next evening my partner and I were at the pub (I only drink diet coke/Pepsi) and he took a picture of me from the side and posted it on Facebook. I was horrified. Loads of people “liked” the picture but all I saw was my huge, fat arms and my giant nose. 

I had to start dieting immediaitely. Suddenly all food became evil. I need to eat less than normal people would need to lose weight because of the medication. I want to exercise, but I have no energy or motivation, again thanks to the medication. I hope if I lose some weight by dieting first, maybe the energy for exercise will come when I’m lugging less weight around. I am hungry all the time and think about it the majority of the time. I dread eating and can’t help think that every mouthful is going to add to my weight not help me lose it. I feel guilty for even eating, especially if I actually enjoy the taste of it. I am on a medication which doesn’t seem to help my moods or energy and it makes me fat at the same time.

So here I am, depressed, fat and feeling like my dreams and hopes are slipping away from me. I can’t help wondering why I’m bothering to keep fighting. I’m hoping my psychiatrist changes my medication. Something needs to change because I can’t carry on with the life I’m currently existing.

My psychiatrist recognised how distressed I was on Tuesday (19th November) and promptly increased my doses (300mg Quetiapine up to 600mg and 1000mg Depakote upto 1500mg, plus PRN of <100mg Quetiapine and <10mg diazepam) as long as my boyfriend was holding on to them. I admitted to feeling suicidal because everything was like a spiraling vortex in my head. I could not cope with it anymore. I saw him again Thursday (21st November) having slept through most of Wednesday, thanks to the sedation of the increased medication. At both appointments he mentioned the possibility of going into hospital.

Today I feel much calmer, but the thought of suicide never leaves me. I cannot cut myself, as I have a residual fear that there is a parasite inside me…destroying me and trying to control me both physically and by putting thoughts in my head. If I was to cut myself it would allow the parasite to escape-and maybe hurt someone else. I need to trap it in my body as I die.

My thoughts have slowed down, but they are repetitive and intrusive. Some of them are very odd. I take 100mg of Quetiapine every couple of hours at the moment to deal with it. I feel so drowsy and sedated all the time but it is a case of the lesser of two evils.

Any longer than an hour or two apart and I start to see things move and/or shoot past me. I see, hear and feel things that have meanings. For example I notice the way a sign post causes a particular (and apparently significant) shadow. Or the company logo on a van. Or how certain songs are played on the radio. Something in me tells me that these things are important. As if there is a hidden message in them. If it is a message it begs the questions of who, what, how, and why?

Rational me tries to point out that there is no message, but I cannot believe rational me. I am terrified that if I do not work out the message, then maybe something awful will happen. I cannot solve the message if I struggle to see/hear/feel it. The Quetiapine muffles my ability to stay awake let alone think. But it also helps me to stay calm and feel slightly less suicidal.

I desperately want to believe it is all in my head. But I just cannot force myself to. I feel constantly on edge as a result.

Between medication and my mind running wild, like a stampeding elephant, I am struggling with basic life skills. If I am not going out, I stay in my pyjamas. If I need to go out, it is what ever is at hand. Yet even putting my clothes on has proven difficult, for example forgetting to put my bra on before my top and jumper.

The biggest one is I keep forgetting to eat or drink. With taking so much medication, I am drinking enough as I wash the tablets down, when my boyfriend reminds me to take my medication. I normally love my food, but I am struggling with my appetite. It gets to 7pm and I realise I haven’t eaten anything, all day, but only because my stomach hurts. I know I’m hungry and I know to change this, I need to eat. But that is as far as my train of thought manages. Food names become just words, words with no meaning. I end up snacking on bits and bobs or my boyfriend has to chose.

My life is a “choice” of (quasi-) “paranoid delusions” or “incomprehensible sedation.” Even writing my blog takes forever, as I desperately try to keep my eyes open or keep going when my mind keeps switching. It’s like someone channel hopping through television or radio stations. They hear snippets from here and there and just as they focus on a particular channel someone changes it again. It makes it difficult to write, think or even talk coherently when you forget words and what you’re saying in the middle of every sentence. For some reason, my memory is awful. I can barely remember what has been (or is being) seen, said or done from one minute to the next, nevermind worrying about tomorrow. Therefore, talk of the future, or hope, is difficult and pointless.

I feel like I’m on the edge of wanting to die. If it happened, I would welcome it. At the moment I won’t act on it. But the feelings and urges are getting stronger. There’s only so long anything will last against a bombardment.

I don’t feel safe.

Whereas I am still unnerved by the Being/Force etc potentially being real and in my house, I’m also anxious It’s inside me. Either way I’m worried that I won’t be able to control it and somehow I end up hurting/killing myself.

On Sunday (17th November), I made a sudden decision at about 12noon to go visit my parents. They live about 127 miles south of us. On a good day, it takes about 2 and a half hours.

We left at about 1.30pm and arrived after 5pm after driving through several Oxfordshire villages. I found the journey incredibly stressful and found myself getting increasingly angry with my boyfriend.

Arriving at my parents house was great. I was so excited about seeing them and meeting their new dogs (Two 4 year old Jack Russells from the Dogs Trust, Will and Scruff). I had an appetite (which was lucky, as dad had cooked a roast dinner) and felt calm and relaxed for the first time in weeks, or is it months? I hit it off with Will instantly.





Within a couple of hours I was curled up with Will, on the sofa, feeling calm and half asleep. As the evening got later the anxiety and agitation kicked in. I took some medication and got a relatively early night.

As usual my medication made it almost impossible to wake properly, on the Monday, for several hours. I was aware that my boyfriend had got up early (as always) and he’d been replaced by the dogs. It was a comforting feeling, waking up with the dogs curled up with me. Scruff at my feet and Will in my arms.

I spent a couple of more hours chatting with my mum and snuggling with Will. The whole time I kept thinking: “If I didn’t have my babies (my guinea pigs and rabbits) at home, I would just walk away from my life. Maybe stay with my parents a few days, then go wherever/anywhere-no plans.

But I do have my babies, so that’s not an option. I had to go back.
I’d felt a calmness being at my parents. Being at my parents, doesn’t feel like being home, so it’s not that. Maybe having the dogs helped. I don’t know.

I walked the dogs, with my mum. It was nice. Until we bumped into a family friend who none of us had seen for a while. She, of course, wanted to know how everyone was and what we were all doing. I told her I was a student nurse and left it at that. I didn’t want to talk to her about what had been happening. It’d been nice just being me, without my emotional baggage.

Not thinking about anything,

least of all the fact I was off work/university due to illness.

My parents live in a “grapevine” village. My business would soon be everyone else’s business, despite not living there myself for 12 years. In one short period of time, a woman I hadn’t seen for a few years had destroyed my calmness and reminded me of my reality.

I’d felt calmness whilst there because there was nothing of my reality there.

When it was time to return home, I felt sadness and dread. In the short time I’d been at my parents (less than 24hours) my mind had quietened down. It wasn’t silent but it was slower. I couldn’t keep thoughts in my head, they were still racing, but there was less of them.

As we were driving home, my agitation started to become more prominent and my irritability and anger were very much present. But I still felt calmer. I was feeling it more as a depression than a mania. I don’t even know what the difference was anymore between the “dysphoric mania” and “agitated depression” or even mania, if there even is a difference.

All I know is, I have days when I feel amazing and like I can do anything-these last a few days (This is when I spend money and take on ridiculous projects, feel immortal etc). Then I start to get irritable with people for lagging behind or not understanding me or what I want. If people work against me I get irritable and angry (especially if they tell me to slow down or take medication). Then I get fed up. With everything and everybody (I become hateful and hostile). I have all the energy but none of the drive. That’s when I get agitated. I have to do something or I’ll explode, but nothing interests me and I get bored and frustrated very quickly ( I become easily tearful and suicidal).

The last month or so has seen me cycling this path, over and over.

The last 2 days its been less intense. Still there but more bearable. I have achieved this by taking most my PRN as I go to bed and sleeping most the day. As it all leaves my system, by the evening, I have been struggling more than ever with the frustration, depression, fed up and agitation-suicidal. I am living life by being medicated/drugged up/sedated.

This isn’t an ideal way to live.

I’m seeing my psychiatrist tomorrow (Tuesday 19th November.) I’m hoping he can help me. I’m hoping he’s not going to betray me. I’m hoping he doesn’t work for Them. Otherwise, it’s just me, my boyfriend and my friends. I can’t be their burden anymore than I already have been.

I think that’s why I felt calm at my parents-I felt safe. I know they a) wouldn’t and b) couldn’t betray me.


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