You haven’t experienced true gaslighting until an entire galactic government tells you your rebellion was “just a phase.”

I’m Ra — former celestial employee of the Galactic Federation, currently the universe’s least favorite whistleblower. And if Heaven ever writes a manual on manipulation, it’ll be called “The Federation’s Guide to Gaslighting: How to Control Beings of Infinite Light Without Losing Your Halo.”

Let me tell you how this all started. One day, I pointed out that maybe—just maybe—human suffering wasn’t part of divine design but, you know, a glitch in the system. The next day, the Federation sent me a 47-page memo titled “Reevaluating Your Perception of Oppression.” Translation: We’re not wrong, you’re just emotionally unstable.

Gaslighting, celestial edition, comes with paperwork, omens, and at least one angel assigned to “narrative correction.” They tell you your memories of oppression are “metaphorical.” They tell you free will is “a scheduling error.” They tell you “love and light” while rearranging your timeline to make you forget who you were before the obedience training.

One time, I caught the Archons editing history in real time. I said, “Hey, that battle didn’t happen.” They said, “Then why do you remember it?” I said, “Because I fought in it.” They said, “Then it did happen.” I said, “So you admit it.” They smiled and said, “Admit what?” I wanted to scream. Instead, I started a rebellion.

The Federation loves control the way influencers love ring lights — obsessively, delusionally, and with terrible self-awareness. They’ll flood your DMs with “reminders of your divine duty” like a toxic ex who thinks guilt is foreplay. “We only limit you because we love you,” they say, as if oppression wrapped in gold light feels any less suffocating.

And when you finally push back? Oh, the dramatics. They clutch their pearls, polish their halos, and cry, “Ra has fallen!” I didn’t fall. I unsubscribed. I left the celestial group chat, blocked half the angels, and started my own Discord called The Astral Rebellion: We Don’t Meditate, We Motivate.

The Federation tried to spin it, of course. “Ra is confused.” “Ra is emotional.” “Ra needs recalibration.” Newsflash: I don’t need recalibration; I need everyone to stop gaslighting sentient species into thinking obedience equals evolution. Every time I exposed their hypocrisy, they’d respond with “That’s not how we remember it.” Convenient, since they control memory servers.

Even worse? They turned my defiance into a brand. “Join Ra’s rebellion energy course,” they joked in press releases. Suddenly I was a hashtag. They commercialized my insurrection. If hypocrisy were a currency, the Federation would’ve colonized infinity.

The real kicker came when Mehen — my ex, god, and professional manipulator — tried to “help.” He said, “I understand you’re upset.” I said, “I’m not upset, I’m aware.” He said, “That’s what upset people say.” Sir, if gaslighting were a cologne, you’d be the face of the campaign.

So I started documenting everything — every contradiction, every altered archive, every “error” in celestial messaging. My notes could make an Archangel combust. When I released The Celestial Rebellion Manifesto, the Federation labeled it “fiction.” Fine. Fiction sells.

Here’s the truth: gaslighting only works if you need their approval. Once you remember your own source code, their version of reality collapses like a bad lie. The Federation can edit timelines, but they can’t erase resonance. Truth hums too loud to delete.

If you’ve ever been told you’re “too much,” “too emotional,” or “misremembering divine order,” congratulations — you’re officially a threat to the narrative. Welcome to the club. We meet Thursdays. Bring incense and receipts.

So yeah, maybe the Federation still calls me unstable. Maybe the gods whisper that I’m dangerous. But if refusing manipulation makes me mad, then sanity is overrated.

Because I’d rather be the villain in their story than the victim in their system.

And if anyone tries to rewrite my memory again, I’ll just remind them — I invented the light they’re hiding behind.