Why Speaking Out Comes at a Cost

Reflecting on the Journey of Truth, Struggle, and the Quest for Meaning in an Overwhelming World

I created A Lily Bit in 2022, almost on a whim. My first article was the one that truly made waves, drawing a surge of attention and earning me my first thousand of followers and subscribers in a short span of time. It was surreal, and though the growth since then has been stagnating, I’ve never minded.

What mattered—and still matters—is that the people who come here find value in my words. The support I’ve received the years has been a gift, and I am deeply grateful for it.

That said, things have grown... complicated. When I wrote that first article, I wasn’t chasing a wide audience. I just wanted a place to share my thoughts without emailing text files or having them vanish in a sea of messages.

Back then, I wasn’t particularly invested in the topics I’d come to cover. But as I dove deeper into writing, reading, researching, and piecing together the bigger picture—drawing on my years working for the deep state, my father’s stories of the financial elite, and my own hard-earned epiphanies—I found joy in unraveling these intricate puzzles. The “aha” moments made it all worthwhile.

Yet, the joy has dulled. The truth is, the subjects I’ve focus on—however fascinating—are heavy. Bleak. My work often paints a picture of the world that is nihilistic, bitter, and devoid of hope. Over time, my online persona has been built around this lens, this unrelenting critique of everything. And I hate it.

The deeper I’ve delved into the rabbit hole of the “scene” I now cater to, the more I’ve encountered absurdities—conspiracies so outlandish they verge on parody. Some of them are outright dangerous, derailing meaningful discussions with their sheer ridiculousness. When every facet of life becomes a psy-op, existence itself starts to feel hollow.

I’ve heard from readers who appreciate my work but say it leaves them feeling hopeless. That’s not what I want. But I also don’t have a roadmap for how to fix things. I don’t know how to make this world better—at least not peacefully, not without risking everything.

And then there are moments like last month when I tried to write an article titled “Revisiting the Great Reset in 2024.” You may have noticed it never saw the light of day. That’s because as I read it back, I realized I’d written it all before. You’ve read it all before. It’s still the same ridiculous concept, still shaping policy decisions, still lingering in the background. But it’s no longer relevant to many people, especially in a community that now breathes a collective sigh of relief, believing that Trump—or whoever their chosen savior is this time—”is going to save them.”

And it’s not just about that one topic. It’s about so many of the things I’ve written over the years. We’ve covered them. We’ve dissected them, mapped out their origins, and followed their ripples through society. What more is there to say? I sat there, staring at my screen, congratulating myself for wasting three hours rehashing the same points, turned off the computer, and took my dog for a walk.

That walk gave me clarity. Maybe this isn’t just fatigue from the topics I write about—it’s fatigue with how cyclical it all feels. The conspiracies, the scandals, the societal shifts—it’s a carousel we can’t seem to step off. And as a writer, I’m struggling to find where I fit in this never-ending loop.

Recent events have made things worse. The discourse has grown toxic, especially around the Israel situation. Antisemitism has surged, and while I’ve written about Jewish influence in power structures, the direction some conversations have taken is appalling. I can’t align myself with the vitriol, nor do I want to. Yet I’ve cornered myself into a role where I’m expected to hate every new development.

Public opinion has calcified into binaries—everything is black or white. Nuance is dead. Expressing even a slightly balanced opinion invites accusations of being a fraud, a shill, a liar. Society is a living, breathing if-statement.

I’ve dissected the agendas of global elites, so now I’m pigeonholed as someone who must oppose every technological advancement or shift in societal norms. But that’s not who I am—or at least, not who I want to be. The more people project these roles onto me, the more I feel trapped in a box I never wanted to build.

The discussion has taken such bizarre turns. For example, people questioning whether Israel exports its racist ideology to Europe (I don’t think that some more racism against Muslims would hurt Europe), while others seem to be taking the hiccups of globalist puppet Vladimir Putin at face value. Sometimes, it’s idiotic to research anything in a sphere where all logic has been lost and everything is about “genocide” or “nuclear armageddon.”

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In addition, people question whether I’m even real. They speculate that I’m some kind of construct, a puppet, or part of the very systems I critique. But let me set the record straight: I am real. Unfortunately, so it seams. The things I’ve endured to bring this work to life are real. And the toll it’s taken on me—emotionally, physically, and mentally—is very, very real.

I need you to understand something: I’ve walked through hell to be able to share these insights with you. The knowledge I bring here wasn’t handed to me on a silver platter—it was earned through pain, sacrifice, and countless sleepless nights. And the truth is, I’m still suffering from it. The weight of what I know, and the decision to speak it aloud, comes with consequences that don’t just linger—they shape my life every day.

This isn’t just a matter of writing; it’s a constant, careful tightrope act. I have to measure every word, weigh every sentence, and balance between what I’m allowed to say and what could get me arrested the next time I cross a border. Selling the truth in today’s world isn’t just a thankless and often fruitless task—it’s dangerous.

It’s easy to dismiss someone who challenges the narrative. It’s easier still to dehumanize them, to paint them as “part of a the conspiracy” or as a fraud. Over time, I’ve learned to let these accusations go, to allow people who have drifted too far to continue drifting. Who am I to judge these passing souls?

I still write because I believe the truth matters, even when it’s inconvenient, even when it’s costly. And if you’ve found value in what I’ve shared, if these insights have sparked something in you, then I urge you to support this work—not just for me, but for what this platform represents.

Going forward, I don’t plan to change the core concept of A Lily Bit. This was never a news site, and it never will be. I rarely discuss current events, and that’s by design.

Frankly, I despise much of what passes for news today—both in the mainstream and the so-called “alternative” spheres. Many alternative news outlets are no better than the mainstream they claim to counter. They’re shallow, sensationalist, and pandering, feeding their audience exactly what they want to hear in exchange for clicks, shares, and monetary support. It’s a mirror image of the same flawed system.

A Lily Bit has never been that, and it never will be. This platform is about uncovering what lies beneath the flashy headlines, the clickbait posts, and the recycled narratives churned out by news aggregates. While others focus on grabbing attention with surface-level takes or easily digestible rundowns of recent events (perhaps that’s what newsletters are supposed to be, and I’m simply doing it wrong), we go deeper—exploring the roots of stories, the historical contexts, and the underlying structures that continue to shape the world today.

You won’t find me spoon-feeding you simple answers or ideological comfort food. What you will find is a commitment to intellectual honesty, rigorous research, and a refusal to chase the crowd. A Lily Bit isn’t about storytelling; it’s about telling a true story well; inviting you to think critically, to question, and to explore beyond the obvious.

This isn’t a place for shallow reporting or lazy reiteration. It’s a place for substance, nuance, and depth—qualities that have become all too rare in today’s media landscape. If that’s what you’re looking for, then you’re in the right place.

In the near future, I’ll focus more on the deep dives into history—because history is where the threads of the present are woven. There is so much yet to be researched, corrected, and set straight. The past holds truths that are too often twisted, forgotten, or ignored, and those truths deserve a voice.

Each article I write isn’t just easily-deleted words on your screen. It’s hours spent reading dense texts, cross-referencing sources, following threads that sometimes lead nowhere but occasionally uncover gems. It’s combing through archives and European antiquarian bookshops, purchasing books that aren’t easily accessible (some are outright banned), and finding ways to translate complex ideas into something digestible without losing their depth. None of that is free—neither in terms of money nor the time I dedicate to it.

I understand that many people appreciate A Lily Bit but may not realize what goes into creating it. And to be honest, it’s become more challenging over the years to sustain the same level of quality without adequate support. It’s not just about keeping the lights on—it’s about making this work sustainable, so I can continue to do it without cutting corners or losing the depth and nuance that make it unique.

That being said, I unfortunately also need to address something that’s become increasingly apparent: after all these years, 95% of the people reading this are still reluctant to give back for the work I’ve been doing.

If you’ve ever valued the time, thought, and care I pour into these articles, I urge you to consider becoming a premium subscriber.

This holiday season, I’m asking for a bit of help to bring the paid subscriber count up. If you choose to pay for a year in advance, you’ll get a 20% “lifetime” discount—and that will include at least 20 deep-dive articles per year, each over 5,000 words. These aren’t quick pieces; they’re thoughtful explorations that take weeks to craft.

If a yearly subscription isn’t for you, even a small donation as a thank-you would go a long way. And for those who are already paid subscribers, you have the chance to share the gift of enlightenment by gifting a subscription to someone else this Christmas season.

As we move into the holiday season, I want to take a moment to thank you all for your continued support and understanding. Your readership means more to me than I can express. Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, filled with peace, reflection, and hope for brighter days ahead.