A tired voice in an empty room welcomes you to Season Two—no gimmicks, no uplift, just the stripped-bare truth.

Last year’s clever spelling and “twisted tales” were just another dodge. This isn’t storytelling anymore. It’s inventory.

What follows is a damage report: the cold list of what broke, when it broke, and how much of it I still carry like it’s useful. Inherited rage, toxic wiring, manhood built on fear with good posture, and the lies we tell ourselves first so we can keep telling them to everyone else.

This season starts with me—the original people of the lie—and works outward: the quiet violence of petty authority, the loneliness of defensive positions, the wreckage we pass down like family heirlooms.

No victory laps. No redemption arcs. Insight isn’t action; it’s just observation. Some damage doesn’t heal—it possesses.

If you’re ready to sit with the ruin, stay. If you need hope or heroes, this isn’t the place.

Damage Reports. Season Two: People of the Lie begins now.