Hello everyone!

Huh...? Are you asking if I've overcome the depression?

I don't know what you're talking about!

After all, I'm not depressed because nothing bad has happened (escapism).

Ahahahahahahaha

"GYAA, GYAA!!"

Now, dear reader, if you’ve made it this far into my testimony, it’s because, like me, you’ve grasped a fundamental truth: the mind, in its state of madness, is not a fortress to be besieged with pleas or understanding, but a jammed mechanism that requires a brutal reset. Call it Shock Therapy, call it whatever you want.

"Operation commencing."

I call it The Clarity Therapy. And I assure you, it works.

"VUGYAAA!"

Look at my patient. Look closely at her. Her name doesn't matter now, only her state: blind fury, senseless monologue, the absolute rejection of the reality I offer her.

"Calm down, everything is going to be fine."

What do you do with a spirit so rebellious? You anchor it. And you anchor it with beauty and with art, I tell you.

What is happening here?!

Well, that's obvious, dear reader, as you can see, that naked woman with the club I found in my garden is now on the examination bed, but not with boring, conventional leather straps.

"Perfect restraint, Flora."

"You're welcome!"

That's right! I opted for a much more organic and, if you permit me, more poetic solution with the help of Flora, who used her power to create firm, flexible vines to restrain my poor patient.

Now she's like a Venus trapped in a garden, and immobility is the first step toward sanity!

You're obviously not well?!

How can you tell me that, dear reader? I assure you, I am perfectly fine.

"Now, the vital preparation. Nurse Goldie!"

("Yes...!")

So, to begin the treatment, there’s no better option than a good electric shock.

But before introducing any form of electrical stimulus, we must ensure maximum synergistic conductivity and minimize cutaneous impedance! The brain is a stormy sea, and to calm it, sometimes you need lightning.

("Clear!")

(BZZZT!)

"GYAA?!"

That's why I'm delivering the exact dose of alternating current and controlled voltage that I calculated with my patented formula!

Behold the meticulousness!!

(ZZZAP!!)

The electrodes are fastened to her temples, right over the prefrontal area, with a firmness that guarantees the effective penetration of the pulse!

"VUGYAAA?!"

And then, the symphony begins. A short, sharp pulse, no more than a second. You will see a spasm. A painful curve in her back that tightens the vines. It is the instant the world, for a fleeting moment, becomes undeniable. It is reality screaming in her mental eardrum. It is the forced neuronal recalibration that my method guarantees.

"It's art!!" (losing sanity)

"UGYA...?"

But madness is persistent, my friend. As soon as the shock ceases, her eyes snap open, bloodshot and malicious, and that ancient engine of aggression begins to roar. Her lips curl, ready to launch a symphony of unintelligible growls or, worse, try to bite the restraints.

"Nurse Silver, anesthesia!"

("Understood!")

It's the critical moment. It's proof that the fire is still alive. And this is where my second phase comes in: elegant chemical control.

"Guhi...?"

That’s why Silver used the ever-ready syringe (don't ask) stored in my trusty dimensional storage pocket to calm her down. So, when the first glimmer of violence appears in her eyes, we must inject her without hesitation!

Isn't this cruel?

Of course not, dear reader!

For immediate action. The goal is to reach the limbic system with maximum speed. It is a touch of liquid peace, a handbrake firmly applied.

How could any of this be cruel?!

"A-Aaaah..."

Look at that, the aggression deflates, and her eyes, once flames, turn into sleepy embers.

It's working!! (going insane)

She relaxes, subdued by the chemical effect, but the Clarity Therapy doesn't stop. This is the moment of sensory truth...

"Medicine is the science of uncertainty and the art of probability."

Now I approach her with my instrument cart (Brownie), gleaming and tidy. The goal now is to bombard her sensory channels with a series of extreme, but controlled, stimuli, forcing her brain to prioritize objective reality over her internal delusions. I call it the Controlled Aversive Immersion Method.

"Ugh... Ga... Ga..."

Nevertheless, the peace of the sedative is deceptive, because underneath, the central nervous system continues to struggle.

"Relax, calm down~"

To shut down that struggle, I have designed a noise. It is not music, nor screams, but a cascade of noise at a specific frequency.

"Brownie, switch to headphone form, please."

("Clink, clanck.")

Question: What are you planning?

Answer: To help!

By using a carefully regulated mix that sounds to the human ear like thousands of tiny needles falling onto glass. I place the Brownie version high-fidelity headphones over her ears, making sure the seal is perfect.

"IIIIICK!"

As soon as I turn it on, the sound fills the room, but for her, it is absolute and inescapable.

"AAAGGHHH!!"

It is tympanic saturation designed to force a kind of auditory reset.

"AARRRGHH!!"

They say silence is the absence of noise. I say this noise is the absence of madness. It forces the mind to concentrate on the only constant: the sound, emptying the space for delusional thoughts.

"EEEEEEYYHH!"

But still, it doesn't seem to be enough!

Although her body is bound, we need to remind her of the thermoregulatory tension of a living body. I pull out my hose, connected to a tank of filtered saltwater that I keep refrigerated.

(CHSHSHSHSH!)

It is brief, but forceful.

"IIIIII-AAAGH!"

The patient arches instinctively. The sedated muscles struggle against the vines. It is the autonomic survival response in its purest form. The thermal shock, although painful, is an anchor to biology. Delusion cannot survive the undeniable sensation of extreme cold, which reminds her that her body, and therefore she, exists on the physical plane.

"It must be working!!"

Full of hope, I quickly dry the area to prevent the discomfort from prolonging beyond the lesson she must learn!

What do you mean, am I torturing her...?

Look, dear reader, I appreciate the opinion, but right now I am subjecting her to the same treatment I use on myself whenever I feel like I'm losing my mind. And look how well it turned out for me!

So, let's continue!! (madness)

Finally, we must attack the most primitive sense: smell. Memories and emotions are intrinsically linked to it. Instead of a pleasant fragrance, I use a chemical compound I call the 'Olfactory Disruptor': a mixture of concentrated ammonia with hints of mint essence to make it penetrating.

Where did you get that?

Short answer: I bought it!! So don't probe any further into the matter, OK?

"This will help you react~"

And with an almost paternal delicacy, I hold a saturated swab beneath her nostrils.

"GYYYAAAH!"

It's not unbearable, but it is aggressive, pungent, and demands attention.

"HIIIIIIIC!"

The smell penetrates deeply, almost as if it were cleansing the nasal passage of any trace of imagination or fantasy. The patient coughs weakly, a defensive spasm. This is her body's attempt to reject the intrusion. And with that rejection, I hope she learns to reject her own sick thoughts.

These are the fundamentals, dear reader. Every shock, every vibration, every blast of ice-cold air or aggressive scent is not an act of cruelty. It is surgery without a scalpel upon the mind. It is a noble and entirely "justified" effort to dismantle the structure of madness and build a firm platform of sanity in its place. The patient will suffer, yes, but it is necessary suffering and, I assure you, full of good medical intention. Tomorrow, when her patterns have softened a bit more, we will double the intensity of the white noise.

"Stop this right now!"

However, while I contemplated my work with clinical satisfaction and the patient, though still, showed a residual tremor in her right eyelid —a subtle proof that synaptic reconfiguration was underway—, I heard a voice.

"You've lost your mind! Reconsider!!"

It was the good guide Shija, who remained anchored after securing his wrists and ankles with a system of nylon straps and industrial velcro, enough to ensure his immobility after his abrupt awakening.

"Ah, the emotional factor! Just in time. I thank you for your interjection, my friend. It’s natural for the novice to be disturbed by the sight of medicine that operates beyond comfort. But I assure you that your reaction is the product of a very common ethical shortsightedness."

"What are you talking about?!"

Ignoring him, I walked toward the instrument table, meticulously wiping the used swab of the Olfactory Disruptor.

"Look at this poor woman. Do you see her suffering? I see a soul imprisoned by its own aberrant cognitive parameters. Would you prefer that I leave her in a padded corner, where her delusions slowly simmer until only an empty shell remains, fed by IVs and sedated to mental death? That is the real cruelty—the one that disguises itself as compassion."

I leaned closer, resting my hands on the chair's armrests, bending down until only an inch of space separated us.

"What I am doing is helping, helping, helping, helping, helping, helping I am helping!! What I am doing here is consciousness engineering. Do you think that electric shock was to punish her? Absolutely not! It was to reduce cellular membrane resistance and increase ionic channel permeability, forcing the brain to pay attention to the external world. Conventional electroconvulsive therapy is a crude art; mine is a precise science. I am using physical pain as a language her subconscious cannot ignore." (madness)

Then I pointed at the woven vines.

"And the immobilization, an art! It is essential for suppressing the flight response. If the body cannot escape, the mind must stay and confront the source of its stimulus!"

"React! You've gone mad!!"

I returned to my patient, examining her pulse with the coldness of someone calibrating a watch.

"You call it madness; I call it the threshold of clarity. Tomorrow, when we reintroduce the saturation white noise at a higher frequency, her brain will begin to collapse those old neural pathways, and perhaps she will finally react!!"

I straightened up with an air of finality.

"I'm going to help, I must help, damn trucks! Ahahahahahahaha~"

I feel so good now!!

I can feel so many emotions from everywhere all the time without stopping!

"Make it stop, make it stop!!"

"React!!"

(SLAP!!)

"AAAARGH!!"

(VRRRRUMMM!!)

And finally, thanks to Echidna's slap, which sent me flying against several trees, I was able to regain my senses.

"I need to cancel the transformation now!"

That's right! I must stop the Sympathy Magic of the Magical Girl form, which has gone out of control.

It's too many emotions!!