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  • Paula Schwarz

My Autobiography - Part 2 - Hiding Games

Updated: Oct 6



Part 2



In 2017 I found my papers. That’s when my new life began.


I developed the concept of multiple deaths in a lifetime on the day that I got my documents because finding what I did was so hard for me that I needed to let the person go whom they, my abusers, had made out of me. It was hard because they were also my parents and I needed years to hack my own behaviour so as to feel like a person again who I like and who I want to be.


I didn’t want to die so I let some things inside of me die.


I come from a rich background but my mother had basically sold her entire table of rights to my father and without me knowing so, they had transferred my rights onto him as well. He had a lot of money, she had nothing without him.


I was 18 when my rights were transferred. 


Throughout my life so far I was being hunted, which is why it’s so difficult to understand me as a person.


I don’t think that my father would have killed me because people would have noticed but so far he has tried almost everything else to hurt me and to make himself feel superior.


People do such things for irrational reasons.


If you are reading this book, I urge you to question your behaviour with this short story:


My grandfather was the last one to be freed from a prison in the second world war.

His name was Kurt, my father’s name is also Kurt as a result (they both have/had a big ego).


I don’t think that my father got a lot of love from his father, actually I even possess data to prove this by now. People do so many things for love, and so I strongly believe by now that my father did to me what he did in order to feel loved by his father. An eye for an eye makes the love of your daughter go blind for you, daddy.


In 2017, I was sitting on an island at the border between Greece and Turkey.

I had a shaved head and 50% of my teeth were missing because I had to throw up all the time due to all of the torture.

I found my papers online on a morning that changed everything in and about my life and my reality. Including my self-perception.


I had been living on that island on and off since 2012.


I had slowly withdrawn from my life in the center of Europe because of the abuse that was linked to my documents. I will describe how I got to that island in laters chapters of this book.


When I left that island, days after I found my papers, my father began to hunt me down. 


From my father I learned that you can never fully trust anyone, not even your parents. 


When I first confronted him about the documents, he kept on repeating how stuff like that is normal - normal for whom, I still ask myself today.


I don’t live around people who see this as ’normal’ anymore.


Flashbacks were my everyday companions after I found my papers, driving me back to countless times that my father had lied. I am aware of those moments but I still try to love my father from afar because I never hate anything.


What happened to me was normal for a man like him, a man who calls himself  “father” because he produced me. This is a man who called me one day after I arrived in Berlin, when I got back from that island, to make the following statement in order to continue to break me: 


‚I hope you don’t mind if someone moves into my apartment tomorrow.‘ 


I had asked him if I could stay at his place for some nights in order to win the time to find some balance - but balance was something he obviously didn’t want me to have.


Some hours before he decided to kick me out, I stood in front of him in high heels during the last near-to normal conversation I remember to ever have had with my father. 


In that conversation, I told him that, no matter what he does to me, I will never hide again the way I did for years and years, wasting away on that island.


I disappeared from his horizon after he kicked me out of his place from one day to the next because I had a bad feeling about things.


It was clear to me that he had kicked me out on December the 18th, 2017 in order to make me go home for Christmas only days after that.


My father is a hardcore strategist who definitely calculated those dates together (December 18th and December 24th) because he wanted to be sure that he would not hurt me permanently with that move. 


He merely wanted to bruise me lightly and force me to come home into the reality I had fled from. A reality that I still disrespect more than words can say. 


As I know that my father will read this book, I hereby state that what he is doing to me is the exact same bullshit his father pulled off with the sister of my father in order to make her obey because she didn’t want to. 


History repeats itself sometimes. The only difference here? 


I won’t kill myself with drugs like she did, but I will tell you that you have to stop trying to control me - the police is starting to do so, too and you know that, daddy.


After I got kicked out of that apartment, I felt trapped in a labyrinth of lawyers, financial advisers and consultants of his because he was in control of my rights and my identity. My father acted as myself from 2008 until 2017 without my knowledge and without my consent.


I knew that my father also owned the apartment under the penthouse he kicked me out of, so I grabbed a key for that before he kicked me out because I always knew where all of his keys were. I was even managing his cleaning lady.

I was such a slave to the guy. Today I am embarrassed about my own behaviour back then and about how much I loved this criminal - my abuser, my father.


I closed the front door of that apartment under his penthouse and basically stopped speaking for about half a year or so after that.


My heart was too broken to talk. My bruises were killing me inside.



And so, I ended up spending my Christmas in 2017 in an empty apartment that nobody knew about, in hiding. 

In that apartment with no furniture, I only had two matrices because there was a children’s bunk bed inside of the apartment I was hiding in. 


Since I didn’t want to go outside and I had found some screwdrivers, I started to remove the bunk bed that was screwed against the one wall from that wall in order to turn it into a sofa or something, I didn’t really care. I just wanted to make something because I needed something to do. I was sleeping on a mattress.


Today, I still believe that I built one of the ugliest sofas the world has ever seen back then.

Later in my life someone tried to sit on that sofa and broke it. I freaked out.

Even ugly things can be loved very, very much.

I loved my sofa.


No shops were open during the Christmas Days, and so I decided not to eat throughout the Christmas days.

My pain was too much for my appetite anyway.


I managed to find a Kebab at a bad delivery service but I ended up not eating it because it was so disgusting.


No shops were open and there was nothing to buy.

I didn’t feel like seeing anyone.

No food. No love. No family. 


My vision carried me.


How I dealt with my pain in complete isolation:


First of all, I didn’t know how to deal with my pain, it was very hard to wake up every day but the most important thing is that I didn’t lie to myself about the circumstances I was in.


Some people at Stanford University had helped me very much as I was building those projects on the island that I had secluded myself on. These people had died but I could feel them protecting me as souls because I was doing something important. I still learn a lot from dead masters today.


I felt as though I was on the right track towards the regaining of control over my life.

I didn’t think too much about the steps I was taking.


I was like a person who, even in her apartment, had been controlled constantly for many years and who was suddenly able to live more calmly than before. It was not running away, it was not being afraid of things. It was being close to running away but being protected by things that I still don’t understand today. Things that kept me somewhat sane back then. I still pray for those people I lost today. 


My mother is a shrink per profession. She tried to declare me insane basically every time I spoke with her about the things I wanted to achieve - today I know that my mother was beaten up by the military police in Greece in the 1950s - they beat her up so that she'd tell the truth about where some people in her family were hiding - they beat her up in front of her parents to also make her parents talk. My mother was six years old back then and most people in her family were saved because nobody said a word of truth about the hiding persons.


I think this shaped her very much and it built the foundation for her longing to escape from her reality as a child in Greece. The Greek side of my family used to have almost nothing. 


She obviously also never wanted something like this to ever happen to her again. What she went through also explains why she lied a lot in order to protect the behaviour of my father. She still feels weaker than she is because she is deeply connected inside with the experience she had as a young girl, she felt weak because she was so small and later I believe that she felt as though she needed a strong man by her side, also because her father was a good and strong person with morals.


I pray that my mother sees the light she carries inside one day, even though she was very brutal to me. She had good sides and the main reason why she was torturing and hurting me was because I was born an honest child with a mouth that doesn’t like to lie.


I unfolded some truths as a child and I was open about them. 


My father was cheating, he wasn’t happy with my mother. 


She was screaming a lot. 


I noticed. 


I said something. 


I learned how and when to keep my mouth shut as a result of that in social and political systems.


The details of what was done to me are heavy and so I prefer to speak about my childhood in later chapters of this book a.) because I want to gather some feedback from readers and develop a relationship with them and  b.) because I prefer to explain details at this time that make it easier for you, the reader, to understand the near past of the creation of the Cloud Nation and the Cloud Law.


What made me wake up and find my papers


Shortly before I found my papers sitting on that island which was situated only 1000 meters from Turkey away in Greece, a 70year old farmer handed a piece of a cactus to me. 


He told me to go home, eat that thing and meditate.


The cactus was probably one of the worst tastes I’ve had in my life but I knew that it had mescaline inside, which apparently unlocks the door to heaven, and so I ate the whole thing. 


I needed some answers and I was hoping that I could find them this way since the farmer, one of my best friends on that island, had told me about the magical powers of this plant.


To give some context, I was running numerous projects on that island in order to build a bridge between refugees, tourists and locals through the honest and synergized production of things such as food, infrastructure and educational technology.


One project I had founded and that I was running had the name ’StartupBoat’.


This project sometimes got media attention but StartupBoat suffered very much under the pressure that my parents were putting on my shoulders because they wanted me to stop.


The last time I left the island in order to speak about StartupBoat for an event was for this thing called Tech Open Air in July 2017. I briefly dated a dude who worked at a luxury-sextoy company called Amorelie back then and since he had told me that he would go to Harvard in order to start studying product design, we essentially broke things off with each other and he left some new sex tools with me as presents. I took those to the island together with some carton.

I began to hack my body on the night that I ate the cactus but I would never have expected how deeply that night would influence me for life.


That  very same night,I saw my soul and it changed everything.


Reducing complexity


The house I lived in on the island between Greece and Turkey had two floors, two rooms. 


A bedroom and a kitchen.


My bedroom was on the first floor and the kitchen was on the ground floor.


This was the pool house of my parents’ mansion. 

They would only come to that 16house mansion they own once a year for around 2-3 weeks.


After I found my papers, my parents broke up, got divorced and my father began with building his mansion on a different island close to the one I was hiding on for years before I was forced to hide in Berlin. 


He initially built his mansion on the other island to demonstrate power towards my mother.

My parents’ relationship had the foundation of power. I want relationships that are based on love.


One reason why my family was also so upset about me is because I transformed the houses of their mansion on that island into a tech-academy sponsored by Cisco, Bayer and Google. 


My mother was trying to declare me insane so that I don’t find my papers and my truth. Apparently my work was ’the depiction of my inner psychosis’, so I went wild and turned their entire mansion around - with funding, with a team and without their consent. I had to hand in all the work I had done there to the assistant of my mother in order to stay out of trouble but the important thing to mention for this part of the story is that I had many people living with me throughout a number of years, people who wanted to help in the refugee crisis, people of different professions. 


I still have many people in my team from that time in my life.

One person who is like my older brother to me was adopted by a full-on military family in the United States. He has 13 brothers and sisters and he just didn’t want to go home.


Another person to mention here is Mike Zuckerman, he’s very close with the Burners Without Borders family of Burning Man. Mike is my ex-boyfriend and he came to visit me countless times on the island. Back then I never thanked him for that and  I would like to do so again here. Without Mike I would never have had all those tech-tools on the island, he built me up again in my sadness by showing me deserted and destroyed houses that he wanted to reconstruct again. Or at least we were thinking about possible concepts for their renewed usage.


We celebrated new year’s on the scrapyard of that island together - we went there a lot. I liked to walk in windmills that people had taken apart, we looked at generators (also to show them to my students) and I walked around the boats that had been swept to the shores of the island with dying people inside of them. I walked in that scrapyard in disbelief of the situation that was unfolding politically, economically and in society.


End of Part 1, Series 1.




In 2017 I found my papers. That’s when my new life began.


I developed the concept of multiple deaths in a lifetime on the day that I got my documents. Finding what I did that day was so hard for me that I needed to let the person go whom they, my abusers, had made out of me.

It was hard because they were also my parents.

I needed years to hack my own behavior to feel like a person who I like and who I want to be.


I didn’t want to die so I let many things inside of me pass away.

And so, my self-hacking journey began.

More details about the reasons for this will be explained throughout the next chapters.


I come from a rich background but my mother had basically sold her entire table of rights to my father and without me knowing so, they had transferred my rights onto him as well. He had a lot of money, she had nothing without him.


I was 18 when my rights were transferred. 


Throughout my life so far I was being hunted, which is why it’s so difficult to understand me as a person.


I don’t think that my father would have killed me because people would have noticed but so far he has tried almost everything else to hurt me and to make himself feel superior.


People do such things for irrational reasons.


If you are reading this book, I urge you to question your behaviour with this short story:


My grandfather was the last one to be freed from a prison in the second world war.

His name was Kurt, my father’s name is also Kurt as a result (they both have/had a big ego).


I don’t think that my father got a lot of love from his father, actually I even possess data to prove this by now. People do so many things for love, and so I strongly believe by now that my father did to me what he did in order to feel loved by his father. An eye for an eye makes the love of your daughter go blind for you, daddy.


In 2017, I was sitting on an island at the border between Greece and Turkey.

I had a shaved head and 50% of my teeth were missing because I had to throw up all the time due to all of the torture.

I found my papers online on a morning that changed everything in and about my life and my reality. Including my self-perception.


I had been living on that island on and off since 2012.


I had slowly withdrawn from my life in the center of Europe because of the abuse that was linked to my documents. I will describe how I got to that island in later chapters of this book.


When I left the island of Samos, days after I found my papers, my father began to hunt me down. 


From my father I learned that you can never fully trust anyone, not even your parents. 


End of Part 2.