My previous post covers some relationship history and issues we've been having
It's been a long time since I felt the need to look in her phone but I did this time she left it out.
I saw a recent image sent in chat on Snapchat she had sent someone of neck down cleavage at 8 pm a week before I found it. Taken during the day. Shirt and bra clearly adjusted to have her popping out way more than usual. Glass of wine. Clearly took some work and forethought. He saved the picture. He also saved a comment the next morning. It was a reply to a video she had sent where he said "best day ever of my life."
She had mentioned trying one of those "get the right size bra" things but said it was way too small of a cup and she was popping out of it. I didn't get to see it before it got returned but seemed like he got a picture.
Heart drops. Shaking hand. I'm in shock but I take a couple pictures with my phone and a video of their saved chat history, his username, start date (6 months ago). A bunch of cute but tame selfies with our kids. One more tame snap with one of our kids sent an hour before while I was getting the older one to bed. Checked a couple other places like texts, pictures, and Facebook quick to see if there was anything else recent. Nope. Put the phone back to avoid getting caught in the moment and retreated to the basement to calm down and process it.
I confronted her that night after she got into bed, recording audio with my phone. Mentioned how she should go bra and panty shopping and get some good stuff in person now that our youngest is getting older and she has her body back. That [snap username] would probably enjoy it. No reaction. I repeated it. "Huh?" "Who" I still remember the confused/expressionless face she held while I repeated the name again and she finally said "Oh. Him." Like damn right him. She denied doing anything inappropriate. I said well then you and I have vastly different definitions of inappropriate and showed her the picture of it and asked what other videos she had sent that night. She broke down a bit and said that the picture was a mistake but she hadn't sent anything else. I asked what the video was and she "didn't remember." I said I don't believe that for a second. It's only been a week and was sent right after a cleavage shot? I don't believe it for a second. She still "doesn't remember" as of today. Who is it? "My ex." I asked her how long it had been going on for. "Doesn't remember." I said stop lying. I don't believe you. And "I don't remember" just means I'm going to assume the worst and act that way so it's better if you tell me that truth. That my assumption is full nude/masturbating/etc and it she doesn't remember when it started because it never stopped. Her memory still wasn't working. I showed her the picture of when their friendship started 6 months ago and left the bedroom.
She came after me and it continued with more of the same until late in the night. Her saying that our marriage and kids mean everything to her and she sorry she fucked up and will do anything to make up for it. Apologized for the last few years of resentment fueled attacks and arguments. promised to make a change and that she would do whatever it takes to fix it. I told her that my trust was completely broken but that I wouldnt give up on our marriage and would give her another chance to fix it for the sake of our kids. I just don't know how to fix it and I need time to cope and think and process the shock. That we should see a therapist and I probably need one for myself too. Meanwhile she's not volunteering any more information that I hadn't already discovered myself. Just saying that they only talked about life stuff and she didn't care about him at all but she could vent to him about me. Again, "nothing inappropriate." Which I shut down hard again. That's still an emotional affair with someone you have a history with and if it hasn't been sexual the whole time it's definitely trending there now.
Ended up going to bed at the same time together, tired and emotionally drained. We had sex. It's been too long since we were intimate and I told her we can try to end the night on a positive.
I couldn't sleep.
Over the next days, I started reading whatever I could find about affair recovery. Found some therapist articles and videos. Found this sub and the other related ones. Followed some links. Went to work. Talked to her late into the night after the kids went to sleep. It kept bugging me that she didn't seem to be willing to be fully honest with me. She definitely made other changes and has been helping more around the house and being a lot nicer like when we were dating. Offering time for me to do things for myself and being receptive and showing empathy for my emotions. Still not willing to really share anything that didn't get discovered. Doesn't remember anything else. Says "nothing inappropriate happened." I tried to explain that I can try and move on and work to rebuild the relationship and that I appreciate it that she was making a good effort to make those changes, but that my trust was broken and continuing to lie about the content, extent, etc. would just tear all that work down when it came out. That I needed her to be totally honest and not put her guilt or shame or whatever ahead of the need to disclose everything and end the lies or I might never trust her again.
I asked her to let me go through her phone. She initially said yes. I also said I wasn't comfortable with her staying on Snapchat and I'd like her to delete it. She didn't share the phone right away and then later in the talk changed her mind saying she wasn't comfortable because she was feeling attacked. I said I don't like that answer because it seems selfish and she hasn't shown that she deserves privacy. And what happened to the "I'll do anything to fix it" promise because our marriage and kids are the most important thing to her? She still said she wasn't comfortable with it after I went behind her back to look at it. Typical cheater excuses and deflection, right? I told her she's on exceedingly thin ice and that she had better not delete anything. I allowed it, thinking internally it can serve as a test because I'm already checking out and losing faith that she'll do what it takes to reconcile or change. Also knowing she probably wouldn't think to clear out the trash and she'd do my work for me to smoke out anything she's hiding. I checked the next day and there were a bunch of pictures sent to trash that day. Oddly enough, nothing that bad from the quick peek I got. Mirror shot of her back but fully clothed was the closest thing to sexual. Didn't say anything yet, figuring I'd wait until the kids went to sleep and see if she'd give up the phone willingly and find them there in the trash. Before that though, I noticed on my phone that she disappeared off of Snapchat. Asked her if she deleted it already and she said "yeah, you asked me to." To which I said yeah, but that was when you agreed to show me first. When you prevented that, I told you not to delete anything and it seems like you just used that as an excuse to justify covering your tracks. Also, that deleted all of our saved snaps in chat of our relationship and our kids from both sides. I said I would have liked to back those up because she used it regularly to capture memories instead of her camera.
Whatever. Turns out Snapchat doesn't actually delete anything for 30 days and they come back if you download and log in, so nice try I guess?
She told me his name at one point but I'm bad with names and forgot it in the stress. I looked at her phone again in the middle of the night. Found a conversation between them on instagram from when she was ~7mo pregnant with our first. He initiated, asking to see her sexy belly and she was quick to comply. Went back and forth with compliments and pictures and he asked to video chat. She said she didn't want to because she looked big and exhausted. He said not now, but what about ever? She didn't respond. What do you know, a few days later he spontaneously decided to reinstall Snapchat and asked to add her, giving the same username as the one I saw but his real name was on instagram. Then that went silent. Theres a 3.5 yr gap from then to the latest add. He seems to delete and make new snapchat accounts often. I took a video of the chat history. Go to take an extra picture of the contact info. Fuck! Phone has flash on and she stirs. Oh well. I'm pissed and I don't really care if she catches me. I just don't say anything when she asks what I was doing, but I've got more evidence saved now and I'm
trying to figure out how to check the rest thoroughly before it's totally scrubbed or I'll never be able to confirm anything she says when the gaslighting comes.
He's been married for over 10 years. Has 3 kids. No wonder he has to delete Snapchat

No, really—I have a lot of shit to say. So I wrote it all down. I got my shit—got it all together—put it in a book, and conveyed that shit so clearly, even a capitalistic chump supporter 🙄 could have a moment of pure, intelligent self-reflection.
What’s it about? I’ll break it down:
Within a compelling collection of adult, non-fiction essays, my debut novel, “Excuse Me; I’ve Got Some Shit to Say”, describes the diabolical corruption instilled into the psyches of us, capital pawns. The lyrical lecture—lasting approximately 38,000 words—illuminates capitalism’s ideological issues, forcing audiences to face the fact that “[w]e have allowed our overt expression of excuses to alleviate our own faults, actually convincing ourselves that such utterances help to assuage the guilt or embarrassment associated with society’s false indenmemt of ‘imperfection’ ”. Living in America’s tyrannical system star-lighting corrupt, capitalistic constructs, we, as an unrecognized people, fail to recognize the disregard of humanity in both our politics and ourselves.
Escaping the outrage of such a system proves uneasy, as we face limiting options upon attempts to do so; whether this be through a series of desensitized self sabotage, suffocative loans, or a lack of capital altogether. Regardless of the reasoning, there always seems to be some sort of deeply interpellated happenstance holding us back from breaking the threshold of conformity instilled into this country. Perhaps the only interchangeable variable in this evilly calculated equation may be the excuses we exert in attempts to emotionally establish ourselves among the estates’ elites.
While humorously informing my audience, I, Marissa Marsella—a 26-year old Aquarian Humanitarian (insert dorky nerd snort laugh and glasses-push up smile here)—am also openly honest in exposing my own excuses in hopes of helping readers transcend to understand the bigger picture. Sharing my struggles battling bulimia, I ensure to advise such: in order to create actual change in this capitalistic society, we must first not forget to purge ourselves of our own faults.
While an inspiring anecdote, I make my own story less of a headline, to emphasize upon the point, however, that perhaps it is not only ourselves who suffer from this subconsciously constructed matrix.
Moral of my masterpiece: we should start moving in ways to deconstruct the diabolical mindsets behind which we’ve conformed to mask.
📖✨Check out the book on Amazon!!✨📖

PeakYourPerspective

Hi! I've never done this before, so sorry i start a bit random. I(14f) used to have a best friend(14f). Lets call her Mia. Since last summer Mia started ignoring me, when she wasn't, she would constantly talk about her new friends, or something else that had to do with her. Our friendship got really toxic, and in december after a big argument (It was a saturday, my parents weren't home and we had plans for her to come to my place since it had been months, but Mia ignored me the whole day. She told me she accidentally fell asleep. She did talk to my other friend, and later i found out she was awake, and was hanging out with her other new friends. It really hurt me, and we argued, and eventually i told her i didnt want to keep going on with her if i wasn't even important to her anyway, so, i blocked her.) And for the first few days it went fine. After about a week or two she randomly texted me on discord, and after a night of talking i blocked her again, realizing that i'd just fall in her trap again and i didnt need that. It went alright, until begin january somebody on snapchat added me. It was a new user (random letters, no snapscore or anything & immediatly on best friend list) who started telling me that at her exact school my number & snapchat was leaked everywhere. I didnt believe them, and since i was on holiday, i just blocked them. That person also texted exactly like she would, and didnt want to show their face. Which to me still is really weird. Over February- March, alot of random numbers started calling me. About 3 a day. It was really confusing, until somewhere in February a girl added me on whatsapp that i immediatly recognized as Mia's best friend. She started calling me pretty horrible things and i had to block her. In March somebody else added me, a guy. He told me my number also was on the walls, and tables of Mia's school. I was at this point honestly so tired already, but it wasnt even close to finishing. I thought Mia was finally done, but in April things got so much worse. Mia and her best friend somehow got my discord back, and they started being really mean to me. Calling me really bad things, and my girlfriend, being the sweetheart that she is texted the best friend telling her to stop contacting me. That only fueled Mia more, made her more angry i suppose.
After that we(me & my parents) started contacting her school multiple times. The school basically didnt care about the problem, and even though they did get rid of the number (we have evidence of it, though) They never did anything about Mia self. We had to go there exactly two times. The second time, i saw Mia for the first time since december. She looked embarrassed, and ran to the bathroom stalls which was about next to the administration. The door was open and we could hear her friends asking her whats wrong. She probably knew she messed up, and quickly went home after so the school couldnt force her to talk with us. The day after we got a letter, saying the school couldnt do anything about it. Why, you ask? Mia had made up a lie that she spread around the whole school. Apparently, i had photos of all the boys at her school. (I have before those two visits, never been there in my entire life. Me and my dad had to use google maps to even find out where it was.) And made them into stickers. Ofcourse her friends easily backed her up, so the school had to believe her. It was a really, really bad time for me. But i thought we were done, i atleast hoped so.
The numbers in the meantime since the school visits, almost stopped. Specific numbers (im guessing her friends) still called me, but i blocked all private & random numbers. So they wont be able to do so anymore.
Today was a pretty normal day, until in the evening. My dad asked me about some random person texting him on tiktok. He showed me the profile picture which i thought was funny. It was the emo logan paul picture. But he told me he was dead serious, because the person asked him if he lived in the exact street we lived in. I looked at the persons profile. I looked at followers, and then i understood. Ofcourse Mia was the only one of the three following him, and the other two were her friends. I didnt mind as much when she contacted me, because i felt like i didnt need to be scared for her to be able to be a threat to my family. But now it has all changed. I know its only on tiktok, but when she realized i texted her back cause i knew it was her.. it was horrible. The things she said just make me sick, and knowing she has my address makes me even more terrified.
My parents told me to just see it as a situation that should be funny, because it shows just how sad she is. But i cant think of it that way, what if she does more? What if she uses my own address against me? What if she turns into a actual threat for my family? The police cant do anything, cause shes not actually doing something "illegal". I really dont know what to do anymore. Im helpless & terrified. I know its stupid, but do any of you have any idea of what i could do about it?
I also want to know, would this count as a stalker? If not, is there some kind of name for it?
P.S thanks so much for reading, & i hope you have a really good day/night💞

I see a lot of people on this group being frustrated with the YouTube algorithm and blaming it for their lack of success because “they have fully optimized their SEO”. Then there is another group of people spreading false information claiming to be SEO experts who can boost your channel using SEO. When it comes to YouTube – SEO isn’t what people think it is.
Today I wanted to share with you what I’ve learned about SEO and how it applies to your YouTube channel. Hopefully it helps give you clarity on what SEO is and how to use it to your advantage and grow your channel. I also hope it helps you to avoid being misled by people who throw around the term SEO as it relates to YouTube specifically.
SEO stands for Search Engine Optimization – it is the process of improving your WEBSITE, to increase its visibility when people search for your products, services, and the information/topics which you have expertise/experience with. In other words, SEO is all about driving organic traffic from search engines to your WEBSITE.
At a basic level optimizing a WEBSITE using SEO is broken into 3 main categories: -

• Technical SEO – Optimizing the technical aspects of a website. (E.g. URL structure, navigation, internal linking.) Making it easy for search engines to discover and access all content on your pages.
• On-site SEO – Optimizing the content on a WEBSITE for users and search engines. (E.g. Relevant topics, appropriate keywords, up-to-date accurate information, well written and presented content.) Ensuring your content provides value for the audience and is relevant.
• Off-site SEO – Creating Brand Assets (E.g. Catch phrases, values, vision, slogans, colors, logos) Making it easy for you, your products, services, and content standout in a crowded marketplace.

Reading the comments and posts it looks as though people seem to think optimizing their SEO on YouTube simply means tagging their videos with keywords and putting as many #keywords in their description as possible. This is not the case, the process of optimizing for SEO changes dramatically because YouTube IS a Search Engine. This is why you see a lot of people saying SEO is dead or SEO doesn’t work for YouTube videos. While this may be true is some instances. It doesn’t mean a content creators cannot use aspects of SEO, to optimize their videos for YouTube.
How to use SEO when creating content for YouTube:
1. Keyword Research – Your video title should match as closely as possible to the top searched keyword/phrase. Keyword research allows you to know what content people are looking for. IMO this is the first and most important step when optimizing your videos. Good research saves you valuable time and energy, by preventing you from making videos that no one wants to see. A common mistake people make is they think the video they want to make, is the video people want to watch. The goal is to be easily found; people will not find your videos if the keywords in your video title do not match the keywords they are searching for. It’s that simple.

2. Optimizing Video Descriptions

• Your video description needs to briefly describe what the video is about in the first two lines. (A viewer should be able to see the full description without having to click “more…”)
• Your video description should include any call to actions or links you want a person to do after the first two lines. (When/If a viewer decides to click “more…”)
• Your video description should have a brief statement about who you are, what value you provide to the market place and how people can get in contact with you.
• Include video chapters when possible.

3. Optimizing Channel Customization (Branding)

• Be sure to have a picture or a logo in the place of your picture if you don’t want to show your face.
• Have a well-designed and attractive Banner Image
• Add a video watermark – this can be your logo or a subscribe element.

4. Optimizing Content – When making content make sure it provides value to the viewer and delivers on the promise of the thumbnail & title. It doesn’t no to have extremely high/big budget production value, but it needs well written/designed and presented. Additionally, it should contain information relevant to the topic, and the language/words used should include the relevant keywords from the research stage.
5. Create Brand Assets

• Identify the value you provide and the vision you have for your channel/brand.
• Design a logo, colors, and fonts you want associated with your channel/brand to use in your videos.
• Develop slogans, and catch phrases you want to be known for and use them in your videos.

Always remember by definition SEO is not a process specific to YouTube. However, because YouTube is a Search Engine; content creators on YouTube can use SOME of the SEO techniques to “optimize” their videos, gain greater visibility, help others, and go viral.
Disclaimer – I am not an SEO expert and I do not want to send you a DM, but I am an expert in the Information Technology field, and I have a great understanding of using the internet and search to find relevant data and information.

Not shared, nor my shade; but something to be weaved; just as the measure of disappointment became it's own solution. But I talked my way through things forbidden, just to find myself blind in bed with those who are dead. Clumsy, but altogether natural of course, because it's consciousness what you refer in the description, yet that's what we don't get a lot about. See your deeds the way you are seen, and then return to a restless place: and the question in-between sheets will be why. Well, I just can't motivate myself to work without hot bitches staring. And that's the truth. Sad but True
— Hearfelt comment for an instagram witch.
Del desprecio a ese descarte, no he visto muchas cosas. Así se pasa una más para las cuentas, y aquí otro más para los versos, por qué aquí no hemos sido vistos. Cuánto más querría uno, que sino lo cuentas ni mucho menos piensas: << lo de este pibe que cosa más horrible>>, haciendo eso lamentable, por qué en decirlo nadie ha mentido. ¡Es horrible! Que cara es entonces la cuenta de lo que le sale a uno vivir sin más complejos; mejor seria cobrarmelo, para así saber que de algo ha valido. Bloqueame.
— Heartfelt comment for a random supermodel-to-be.
The Spirit of Fire
Flames begone, flames in spite: their warmth I felt - so I closed my fist until I could feel the warmth of my blood in my hand. And in dreams Fire came up to me and said: who am I? And I said unto him: you are bound to my bidding, thus your name misery will be. But fire wretched as he was, got closer and asked: and who are you?
And I said unto him that the blood of David ran through my veins, as I was his heir; for the mother of God claim me from death as a son. So Fire tried me, and figured it out.
You are son of woman —said Fire unto me— but as Fire acknowledged the name, I extended my left hand, and took Fire by the neck throwing him into the gound. — You are going to lace yourself to the right hand of the beast, and you'll keep him steady, so I can cleanly take him down. And Fire stayed down, and with his forehead kissing the ground asked unto me —why would the heir of David do so to earthly man?
And I said unto Fire that the beast from the abyss had left no mother for God, so I was to leave none of his body left for his head; as I was going to make it bleed until the end of the end of times.
The Spirit of Earth
Shapeless and without body, but keen within her many numbers, Earth came up to me in dreams, and said: who am I? And posessed in spirit as I was, I said unto her, that God had made her maiden again, and that she shall become the coins that Judas never received, which were to become the due payment of man and women for the body of Christ. Then I extended my right hand, and grabbed Earth by her hair —which descended deep into the abysses of hell— and cut it short so the demons of Lilith would no longer had her gripped by her back.
You are now a woman, and I'm going to rise you from the grounds. You'll lace yourself to the left hand of the beast, and keep it steady so with one shot I can cleanly take him down.
The Spirit of Air
A dream shaped by written words, whispered down for years by the currents of this Montain, and it's requiem witnessed but by a few — the end of dreams. But from where I standed at the peak, I called upon the distant currents that went down, and asked them: who am I?
And Air came unto me as bird, which had thousands of letters for feathers, and in the tongue of dead men answered.
"Somebody who only a few will remember by strange deeds; as the burden on your back, is a past tainted by impossible dreams. You were a lunatic giving new names to folk, and folk never bothered to remember —so your name must be freak, as you died in a forgotten shack some short time ago."
And as Air said these things upon me, I called Misery —as I had dubbed Fire — and told him to get inside my shot. The burden as Air had said, became lesser as i took the shot from my quiver. And I said upon Misery; that he was to set ablaze this arrow, as I was taking down the bird of Britain, and that I would do so, so God would give the deeds of Earth some better names.
The Lord is making a bridge between the empire of strength, and the last empire of men. Now by God's grace, I'm making the tongue of free men, the tongue of Spain. You will be eventually bound to my bidding, and if not me, it will be to the one I'm preceding; for I'm giving you twenty years to attone your wrongdoing. Alas, now because of your wretchedness, my shot on earthly men won't be clean, for his left leg won't stay steady.
Your old name was apathy, now I'm calling you Cisma, which in the tongue of dead men means schism. So now by the will of God lay unto the ground and say the words you've been teached. And as the arrow blazed forward, it's bending motion pierced the veil hiding the secret ladder of men. The bird of Britain catched on Fire, and it's hollering resounded throught the ladders of the mountain until the depths of the abyss. A column of air turned into fire, then violenty erupted from the vowels of the bird, and the wild fire spread as a storm from west to east all throughout the five kingdoms of men away from its own fiery wings, with a gift of misery and a few words to say.
"The name of your woman or the name of your man, will no longer explain their purpose to a man, a woman, or God. Charred words written by thunder will now be the new ladder of men — but until then, darkness upon thee."
But the feathers of old words, layed on the ground, for common folk now knew by the light of the storm their meanings — and horrified, they waged war on each other, killing each other, and seeking revenge on each other. Thus the bird of Britain dragged further into the ground, screaming and flapping
The House of Water
I head into the coasts, and the beautiful beaches in-between, to find the stranger who burns images in the skin of men. He is the stranger, and has adopted the body of a monster, and he is one who cannot be understood, so he went on to only go out home in stunts, for the burdens in his heart have become too great to bear. Through terrible pains he has given all he once was for an identity, and as I pick up on his past, i found familiarity in the feelings of his heart. Oh dear friend how we found looking in sadness to ourselves, after doing same but with different means, carrying into our shoulders the loneliness of this world. As you have in-skin the garments of the strange doctrine that I preach — I shall congrate you, for you truly have fought the world entire, for my doctrine is the words of those who shall defeat the world entire.
I may not have your strangeness in-body, but I have it in these words, and in the true feelings of my heart. And I say in admiration that there's no higher form of art, philosophy or religion: than those who perform the highest thing they can give a name about.
Now even within solitude, and at odds with what old dead men call God, I see you and I found strength in you, as I can see you are within me, and in that, you are within everything as it should be - as is meant in everyone who does something that touches the heart of another man. I call this the kingdom of God. Yet blind men and women will wonder how can the kingdom of God possibly be within two outcasts such as you and me.
Upong giving my regards and waiting for response, I found my way into a bench. It was a warm afternoon, and the wind carried the water of the sea. The bird of Britain came about down from the wind of north, and layed on the bench were I was sitting.
The bird asked: why hast thou become this?
And I said back to bird, scorched he was and nearing death, that it was me someone who was supposed to give names, yet for years I couldn't figure out one for myself. Then on went to being given a name, Alas all the wrong ones. Did Adan gave himself a name? - I asked the bird back. And there was no response from bird. Then I continued.
A man has the essence of his soul retained by what he is seen doing. Yet I did things nobody saw, so my soul wasn't with God but with something just as ancient, and nonetheless unknown by men in its true nature — then Satan as the better known devil, came about and pushed me into a hole. It was my own doing. Yet the things I did, I thought were seen. But nonetheless what I did was without contemplation on a posible return. Just as somebody who prints an image on their own skin. It's permanent. This is the essence of a memory in the soul of the man who's seen by others. But in the familiarity of a man who picked every irreversible decision like the Alien, I find myself feeling sympathy, for the man is still not what he has been seen doing, he shall redeem himself by what he decides to turn himself into.
Is this a way of saying that you want to get yourself a tattoo? Get a new look? - the bird mockingly asked.
And I gave the scorched bird no answer.
Then the bird said unto me: what about your career as a prophet, uh? And the things you said about returning with substance? Do you actually think this is substance?
And i considered what the Bird said, then I negated with a movement of my own head. It is not i answered, but i find the memories of me not making sense unbearable. For those mean the memories of a fool, un pendejo, an insane person, or both. And I will always try to amend what I don't do well. But now I wish for only one thing, and it is to be remembered as someone who makes sense, and who out of that sense, made good upon the world. I don't expect anything in return for what I do now, as it is merely an outlet to keep me sane while I finish editing my work. It's clear I'm too incompetent to be a competent influencer. As for once, I don't care about influencing anyone into what I think; but to perform what I think it's important.
Then every proverbial student is free to take classes so as they see fit, and to interpret such classes as their comprehension gives them grasp of what it's said. In such regard, this is what I offer now, while I make the journey to Madrid. And the bird tilted it's head so as to observe me with his left eye, then after a long impasse, it made a loud and painful caw, and finally flew away. Soon after the bird flew, I looked upon the stars in the nascent night, and confessed to them, that it was the memories of who we were, what often stumps us into wrong beliefs of who we should be, maybe even wasting an entire lifetime retained by that which other people remembered us as being. But we are not the owners of our own names, the place we go, and our destiny. That's the biggest lie the western world of hollywood heros tell you, as in truth is collective agreement what determines what we look like doing and thus the meaning we should comfort to, recalling that names are practical mechanisms to remember the purpose of things, their meaning, and how their motion is described in the world.
But making the task of beating that collective belief, akin to the Nietzschean ideal of the camel turning into the lion, so as to transform it's spirit and become something else. But if it's the golden dragon of all the huamn values which judges you insane, will you be prepared to wrestle with the entire culture so as to have your way?
As I layed my eyes upon each star counting up to the number seventeen, I confessed of being scared of those beliefs, as revisiting the past, became a painful deed — and as I prepared to leave, I uttered one wish on the seventeenth point in the sky.
Lord please grant me strength, the way you have given my friend strenght.
2.
The night deepen, while the sea tide sang its own song of breathing. Some time passed, and then on the stranger showed himself approaching at the distance. I waved my hand at him, and after the instant, he found his way into my bench while I welcomed him with an extended fist which he casually bumped - after the short acknowledgement the dark alien looked at my face in between it's cover of dark, and looking at it undiscernable in its true features, with suspicion asked.
— What is it that you want?
I acknowledged him as a friend, then mentioned my brief research, as I had come to know him as man looking for a job, yet nobody would hire for things mundane due to his appearance. I listened closely to the news, and came to understand that this was a man looking for a second chance.Then I saw the intent behind his doing, and two words came to stick to my own thoughts. The first one was <> and the second one was <>. I was admired.
In analytical psychology I figured this man was the ESFP —the personality archetype related to the performer and the entertainer—, possessed in an abnormal way by the spirit by which a person submits to it's contrary nature, seeking to integrate and find fulfillment through the chase of what's perceived absent. If he was the ESFP then doing the flip by following the radial axis of each Jungian function in the stack towards their opposite resulted in the INTJ. The mastermind. The architect. The genius yet awfully complex individual. That was the elusive spirit he was chasing.
But a spirit and a character that at its most pronounced embodiment in a person, would experience life as an eternal foreigner hiding from the light of other men. Such made sense to me, for I myself was the INTJ, and had at spirit the ESFP. Him. So where as this man chased the spiritual fulfillment of being a complex and deep individual, I chased the fulfillment of becoming simpler, so I could demonstrate with action the deepest desires of my heart. One who was born plentiful in means to be liked, becomes complex, mysterious and uncomprehended, meeting one who will be seen trying to make sense becoming simpler. For Carl Jung portrayed the anima and animus of individuals, as the sense of what its absent, yet deeply cherished an valued. So I said these things to the alien, while he silently listened to me.
— All of that sounds like bullshit to me. -Said the alien after some contemplation .— Sorry but the things you say, don't mean anything to me.
And alas for I expected such response, as if one thing was true about this journey, was that explaining the journey in and of itself would become it's grimmest task. I affirmated what he just said with a slight nod of head.
— These things I say and how they relate to each other, in its excercise are similar to doing stecheometric balance with equations in the head, but simpler I'm afraid. - Then I paused, looked back into the sea, and continued. — That's high school chemistry, but I don't expect everybody to pick up on it, nor like it, nor understand it.
— Now i have called you a friend, and where I came from we dub with this title the people we share destiny with. As far as I'm concerned, we are chasing the same thing, which is the hardest posible thing. We both innately understand that we are not home, as we want our spirit to return to us, and that's not what a lot of people ever honestly try to attempt in a lifetime; as such is anyone's call to feel complete.
— And very few people ever reach true individuality, beyond the name they are imposed at birth.
Then I looked into the black alien, and in-between his foreign facial features, I interpreted something familiar. Disturbance. And I continued.
— We have given ourselves hell as we lived chasing something hard, so we can avoid the same hell later on when we are finally back to our own house. This is a christian precept, altought a rundimentary one. Does that makes sense to you?
And after listening such, the black alien calmly looked at the veil in my face in silence. Trying to discern what my face actually looked like, but the night was dark. Then turned his stare back to the reflection of the moon over the waters, giving some thought to what I just said. I opened up my backpack, and drawed two cans of beer from it. Offered one to him, and he silently refused with a gesture of hand. I popped my can and gave it a sip, while I myself stared at the tides coming in and out of the shore.
— If you wan't a tattoo, we can work that out. But this sounds annoyingly familiar, and my interest is not religious. Are you religious?
I nodded in affirmation, and complemented saying. — But my doctrine is something nobody has heard nor seen. For its aim, is doing as Christ said, in perfect means. Yet its true that the teaching fits you, as it's the teaching of the future man; and there's nothing in common between the current man and the future man, as they may very well be different species. This is the precept of evolution.
The alien seemed surprised.
— These two men don't know each other, for the current man doesn't know where the future man comes from, for he himself doesn't know where he is going. Yet in deep realization of your own artistic concept, I think you might want new ideas to meet with your appearance. So tell me, are you curious about what truly happens to a man after he dies? Do you want to learn how to read someone's mind? Do you want to blast with words of fire the hearts of an amazed crowd?
But the black alien broke his calm contemplation of what I was saying, and slighty disturbed, aggressively rebuked after hearing such.
— But you mentioned 'Christ', so you must be christian. How can a christian even say anything interesting in this current time? Last time I asked, their sayings were dreaded by restriction - so why would anyone condemn themselves to a life of bore? Are you a christian?
And I nodded after the question, in silence. Admittedly, for I knew what the problem was with being what I was, and my new companion was bang on identifying it. Made a pause, then raised my sight to where it met with the sky and the stars in it, and I said back to him.
— I am, but not one of a type you have ever seen, for the Christ that comes, is a Christ of art.
2.
The riptide sang, in its secret dialect of earth and sea. I looked upon the coast, turned an eye blind, and saw the ocean as the scorpio, and the land as the taurus; as it was the struggle between two lovers, never meant to consume each other. Ideal love then - yet not to confuse with this partnership as it was whimsilcally tied by the means in which i arranged my current conversation; for my lady somewhere waited for me. Then i allowed my eyes to rest still.
The alien looked upon me, undiscernable in my intentions, and again figured for himself that my interest towards him wasn’t clear. In suspicion, and after the moment he collected his thoughts asked “In your weird words you dubbed me performer, so what is it exactly that you wan’t from me. To me it seems like you are gathering people for some form of religious clown show. When you forced this meeting upon me, was this a proposal you thought i would find amusement in?”. And after the statement my own stare wandered in my conversation partner. While as he had his say, i returned to my can of beer, and finished it with a long gulp. Tempered in an unwillingness to fall to my new found friend irritation, i said within my own thoughts: “The alien looks easy going, but he is barbed in wit”.
Then i opened the can of beer that the stranger rejected; the loud pop resounded in the relative silence, interrupting for a moment the steady chorus of the sea. Gave it a long sip, and said.
– Theres no proposal in place yet. But im certain of something, and that is that both of us are messed individuals which reached the bottom doing the same thing - but the way my understandment of the human soul goes: two people can act by mere interaction as reactives to each other, creating a new chemical compound after the fact.
– This new psychology is very much like chemistry. But it is not my intention to draw you into something, but to pull myself out of this «something» by doing right on another person and maybe that person reflecting the good back on me. I just need a conversation partner, thats all. And i will do this with you, and with many people more. Presidents included.
The alien reflected on it, and after the hiatus of a long standing position of suspicion he finally gave in, and eased up with a slight smile. A strange smile of relief. But the smile, was all too familiar for me, as i realized the man was a tortured individual: a person in long standing pain. I smiled back the way he did, and continued.
– Our pain has a common name, and is a name that can be written with words unfortunately. It’s the devilish mother of all spiritual ills and its foundation, rests at the concept of a past that wasnt solved. It’s called «inadequeacy», and for people like you and me, understanding one day that such inadecuacy had to be solved by our own means, lead us into an act where our name changed as the changes in our cover up act to solve our inadequacy did.
– We never honored the past or the present in our pursuit, as we desired in passion to find solution to the present, by matching it into the idealization of some future without ever realizing that the old or present essence of ones being would be crushed into non existance by said future.
– Then we found the realization of that new name, only to understand that its demands became a tyranny on the other faces of our soul: as our soul is not something that can be undestood in unity, but something that conceives in the beginning in multiple things which try to give shape to one thing. Theres many people in a village, and our minds, are no exception.
— But happiness is only achieved by those who have their soul entire - or those who are the same person regardless of the context and scenario. And we gave to much to somebody that wasn't us, as our spirit took possession and lead us down.
– This is this the essence by which someone goes to hell, only to do one thing over again, getting an ever lasting pain for all the things that were given up chasing that which was absent. The more someone is forced into being shaped by the thing that was concevied in lust, the more the individual misses the place they used to call home, for that is no longer within ones reach. Does this makes sense to you?
The alien left me with no answer, and as he contemplated the sea, a tear travelled through his strange face.
– In this state of anguish, affliction rarely ever feels company, as the very individual condition that was pursued, became a full suit and persona to be forced upon and wear. Hell, is one lonely place man because we only learn to speak a language, that only makes sense to ourselves. But i think we can find a way out of it. This is why I'm here.
“Look, what you’ve done, it’s not something i can see the way you can see my own doing on me.” The alien replied. “Besides the way in which i canno’t see your face in this night, you seem ordinary — but what you talk and the way you say it, evokes in every word regret. What is it that you’ve done that has you regret like this?”
As the alien finished speaking, I emptied the can of beer, layed my eyes on the irregular grooves that my feet had left on the sand, and then replied back to him, after making a recap of the story i had repeatedly told myself after falling down.
“My story, is the fairy tale of a guy who makes way for the new coming of a new man; a better man for the world, while he casts disarray upon the earth: much to his dismay, at the expense of his own soul as the people who become victims of disasters, were ones who this man deemed unfair; cruel, evil, despicable in past. That was at the beginning."
"Theres a pile of corpses behind that character — even in covid time, people as close as the local priest of the small town he lived in, would break their neck after falling in the shower, as he had the slightest suspicion of their secret deeds. All clean deads for that matter. Untraceable to nothing but sheer randomness. Magic as it seeems. But were this folk truly evil people or even guilty of anything? You may ask - the man never knew it for sure, as he never had faculties such as godly omniscience to actually know it; which has taken a toll on him, as the burden of justice is an unberable one for anything but a god."
"Which leads to another point: spontaneously picturing random numbers in the head, associating them with psychological compounds by angular momentum, and actually being bang on the suspicion. Truth friend, in its stochastic presentation: it's unberable.”
“Consequential of such attempts to rationalize his own story in the eyes of people such as close family, my dude became clinically diagnosed with referenced thinking. Which are fancy words for schizophrenia. Nobody believed the story as it was uttered."
"Yet the consequences are there for everyone to see, altought not visible in their cause and effect by anybody but this guy, which lead him first into regret over ever starting his quest as a reformer; and then repent.”
“Now before he realized of this lets call it «curse», he preached for years over the internet as the disasters started to slowly creep up. He preached in a fashion parallel to Niestzches Zarathustra; Zarathustra meaning a famous philosophical device artificied by the philosopher Niestzche, who’s aim was to portray the best posible man, as something he dubbed the <<Übermensch>> ”.
“Such concept being the seemingly more elegant brand of a humanist ideal for a not so distant future: today - albeit a wrong one, for this guy was not dyonisian himself. The backbone of his framework, is analytical psycholgy becoming a chariot for a true understandment of human nature: and ultimately a facilitator for love within light: not within ignorance; not within darkness. Most philosophers today though would mock anything analytical in it's aim."
"Then on the guy preached and dwelved further into the relative hole of his own doctrine: and became imprisoned by what he didn’t got right at first attempt, making him in the process the character that Nietzsche from the comfort of his own writers seat, never attempted to actually embody within realistic means: eventually figuring out within himself the ultimate Nietzschean aristocrat: a magic pen granted by being capetian by mother: from judah by father."
"But Alas, you have no idea how common suicide is within philosophers after they finish their best work. As language, becomes the ultimate barrier for understandment, and then to ones capacity to feel love. Difference — true saliency in ones individual destiny— leads to the gravest posible pain. Ironic isn’t it?”
“Besides technical work with a new form of psychology inspired by analytical chemistry, as that drawed from his efforts during the light of day, five years ago, once he felt the urge to try to reach out to the world from a position of what he deemed was greater understandment: he primitively preached during night his new set of ideas for people to behave beyond the limitations of manipulative psychology, albeit a harsh doctrine meant to clear the way for a better product: Christ himself."
"This is not a doctrine a human being can actually perform, as such its christianity at its highest capacity to bear fruit. It’s an impossible doctrine, yet solves the oldest problem posed in the bible. All which sounds very sci-fi bullshit-y but actual problems started for the protagonist in this tale, when the preaching matched with terrible consequences. Not figurative, but within tangible reality.”
“So just as we talk, theres a small legion of hackers pretending to be doing internet social experiments while talking in an artsy matter: much in my own style, entertaining the exact same concepts - a legion of dangerous monkeys, i have no control over."
"One of the many unexpected consequences being this, yet prompted by something evil; ancient: essentially replicating what my protagonist developed and then preached over the years, while these "hacktivists" lay their attention on things and people, as they select them and enforce upon them strict surveillance, to behave properly. Then to destroy them, as they did in 2020 with many corporations and institutions.A bizarre combination of theater actors to my own liking, and then cyber-security demigods: omniscient in their claims to surveill, and they are - derivative such of another device of what I've done; which is to build a theater so people can make-believe that they are infact performing within themselves something greater - but that's matter for another story."
“Most of the corpses piling up flat out dead, have no relation to him whatsoever; they became victims as my protagonist took measures to fight back the monster he found at the foundation of the known world. This is not an elaborate analogy for one's own unseen capacity for evil, as i mean this: a monster as literally as it can be. For these things friend, im doomed as in true strenght, i have nothing but the pen i use to write down what i think albeit always at danger of it’s eventual inversion. I have no real friends left. Not one who can understand, or help bear the pain: as friendship and love are all gated by understandment."
"The full story has many more vertients, but i think i’ve done it enough justice. This is the predicament of an insane man chased by his own shadow as he builds a better man: one who delivers heavenly things, and then a shadow stringed to deliver tyranny as the very strings behind him make the better man stumble while he tries to keep a grasp of his own spirit, and then of his own soul."
"That monster behind, is wicked smart — and cannot be outwitted nor overpowered but anything but divine smite."
“I’m heading now to a new country, to try to get friends from the only institution in the world who knows and adresses the current times being, and who by extension, might believe me. And to clarify, these being the end of times; but not the end of the world. Yet now i myself have a damocles sword pending over my own head, and i need to do something about it before it falls.”
And as i said these things, i reached out to my backpack drawing a third can of beer from it — besides my own super laptop, thats what my backpack had: an infinite supply of beer. Corona, Indio, Victoria, Dos Equis, Heineken; you name it. I popped the can, and gave it a long and definite sip as i emptied it complete.
The alien didn't try to show that he understood, but stood still in silence, with his sight in the sand below and pressing lips, knowing by my demeanor; that these things as I've said them was something that I needed to do. Then he said: "I don't follow man. You say you preach and then disasters occur. Like a prophet from the bible?"
"Yes. Then I preached to get rid of the things that are actually making the world worse, and something awoke soon after, and since then; everything I do is subject to being misinterpreted due to the diffamatory action of this thing. Now everytime I do something, it can be twisted and turned against my original intent. Right now the hackers are my worst problem: I may have a degree in computers but I have no fucking idea whatsoever of hacking. I earn my living as an A.I engineer.".
The alien raised his sight to meet with mine, and after doing some contemplation on the fact, quite simply said: "You are insane". Then lowered his own sight, and raised it again to meet with the sea and continued. "If you want a tattoo, we can work that out. But either way and whatever parts of your story are true and even worse; the ones you may be lying about: you sound dangerous in a delusional kind of sense, and my life is hard enough as is."
I pressed my fists, knowing then the old same thing had happened again. For I had never forced anything upon anybody, and I was willing to respect that until the bitter end. Then I released the build up of frustration with a loud sigh, and after this amend, I replied back.
"I understand and respect it. But let me just propose you that if you ever want to figure what is beyond life as it's lived by person who has never seen what is like to be someone you write a great story about; you can pin me, and I'll show you what's beyond that door. Give it some thought."
The alien; The Black Alien Project stayed there sitting, spechless but calm, almost expecting something else to be convinced about. But pointless, for i knew that nobody can be forced into anything without bringing a transgression into play – and i wasn’t one to taint myself in sin if it could be avoided. Not anymore.
3.
I made the distance at steady pace walking along the shore, until i found a small group of pines in-between the liminal space of the beach and the land. I sat with one of the pines trunk behind my back, and drawed the Schizo Pills from my eternal supply of traveller goodies.
Quetiapine 100 mg, and Olanzapine 10 mg, i made a smaller fragment from the olanzapine pill, and swallowed both complete. As their side effects were concerned, they would soon knock me out of conscience, as this little ritual was my own way of calling the day complete – then i layed there, vigilant, waiting for my own drowsiness to claim me into sleep - but the Bird of Britan came flying from above, and stood besides me.
\Chirp, Chirp, Chirp**
I watched the bird, annoyed, as its presence had become an omen for contempt. For me and the death people of my past. I frowned upon the little shit, and said nothing. The bird made a little nod, while tilting its head in excentricity the way birds do, and replied. — Hey Andrew!, do you remember when you tried to penetrate your own computer to make a universe grow inside of it? I just wan’t to know something: did your computer moan? Did it finally learnt how to scream your name?
\Chirp Chirp**
Ignoring the bird, i closed my eyes and stayed like that for a long moment, hoping to make the bird think i was asleep. Maybe that would make him leave.
— Can’t bullshit me like that Sweetheart. So please tell me something; why don’t you command one of your supermodels; these muses, to come here and warm the bed for you. It's a cold night and you seem lonely brah
. \Chirp Chirp**
I opened my eyes, and irritated, pointed menacingly at the bird turning my left hand into an imaginary gun. I had already failed at something today, and wasn’t convinced i needed the memory of the things i failed at before. Not now.

• Hol’ up cowboy ! you wan’t to bang my bird ass when you should be banging a bitch ass. What happened with Tyrone huckleberry? Did you managed to make him as impotent as you are right now? —I held steady my hand; and tired, the tempation to pull again the trigger on the bird was growing larger. I saw red roses in my own sight, making a terrible omen for a migraine forthcoming. Said nothing.

— The glowniggers are out there brah. You may not be a hacker – and its true, but i took notice of your last words: so now the glowies are going to instead dreambooth* people into every posible kind of scenario of extorsion, while they surveil like a motherfucker. Like you dream boothed yourself for your little ahem "art project". Then we will use Suno*, then Sora* when it open sources. Are you going to protect your hoes?
Said nothing.

• Alright cowboy, i will give meaning to that revelations verse. What was it? Ah yes. Revelations 9:6. Every single person with an internet history will be as paranoid as you were in 2020. Everyone will be diffamated into acts of political terrorism! Aren’t you am-

And as i pulled the imaginary trigger from the imaginary pistol, an imaginary arrow in the sky descended with a blaze of not so imaginary flames on the Bird of Britain, engulfing the little shit in heat, and making it’s body explode into a gore of scorched viscera. As if the bird was in a microwave oven. I inmediately gasped as the explosion was too close from where i was sitting - after the conmotion, stared at the red and burned stain in the floor, and left my sight rest there, as sleep finally found its way into my restless thoughts.
"No longer care for love unless it's between good friends”. Said to myself. There was certainly a migraine coming, but maybe my dreams would help convince it otherwise. And as far as the hoes were concerned, Furious Angels would be there for them. Like the Rob Dougan song.
4.
Found my own mind after the slumber – asleep, then awake. I realized several hours passed - at least enough to wake up and witness the sun rise above the sea. But as for dreams, the light veil of their memories wasn't something to rely upon. But i did remember something, and it was some overtone in dread; an atmosphere of fear – and a kind of dread sustained in it’s inevitability by the urgency that builds upon dearth.
Now what exactly was it though? I couldn’t remember from my dreams, but ever since i falled to my own death i had always present in mind the future succesion of events that would follow when things started to go very wrong. Iran, the U.S, Israel - now whatever was it in the news; the outcome would be the same. A thousand more cuts to an already languishing economy. Make that corpse bleed, and then fall off a cliff.
As such things would be cooked, just as the bird of britain. The bird was still there though: just in pieces and roasted like the contents of a dropped KFC bucket would. But the little shit would return - as it always did. The economy? Not so much.
Yet i digress. None of the world circumstances mattered as far i was concerned – i had built a small and portable solar system to power my laptop, and my beer supply was well, infinite - i made myself sure that i had my needs covered whatever happened around me. Not tied to even a house for that matter. I incorporated myself and gave my back a stretch. The morning breeze coming from the sea evocated in my memories some time that had long passed – late childhood. I rejected those memories as they beared with them things i didnt wan’t to remember - then wen’t on as usual in my morning routine scrolling through my instagram feed, figuring if there were any new hoes to maybe motivate me into doing my God imposed labour.
Labour which was to either write, or to finish the House of Water — then after scrolling i did in fact saw a new hoe; i dropped a Faux Pas comment. Maybe she would play along, maybe not. Whatever. Sometimes I would put in a lot of effort to do a rhyme. But the effort depended on the insta-hoe in question. I know. Not the best of habits, but back in elementary school i was the kind of kid that would only get motivation when the girls in the classroom were present in physEd. And then i would run faster: whole lotta faster. Run Forrest! Run! Women love used to fuel me; and the habit sticked — and at the moment, i was kinda done with the idea of female trascendence. Would rely on their love, but not on their validation. Not like a simp. Fuck that.
Furthermore, what results did i demonstrably mustered after pursuing true egalitarianism and sharing it? Exactly. A bitch gonna do what a bitch gonna do, and so does the human female. After publishing the comment, I locked my phone and walked towards the highway, as i was planning to pay a visit to somebody long forgotten - I had kind of a schedule that i was going to follow, before taking the plane to Madrid and become hispanic Jon Snow from the walgreens Nightwatch.

Not extremely long relationship. She told me after a long talk (around 3hours ) that she wants to break up. She tryed to accuse me of things to make it easier for her , she wanted to end it with "hate" but I managed to calm her a bit and made her speak her mind normally . We politely talked and both of us ended the communication in a mature way. I asked her if this means : " no more sending pics,no more sending videos,no more texts from now on, right ? " She said "yes, cause that way it will be best for both of us " . I said "Okey, than that's how it will be. One more thing . If there is a very severy problem and you don't have anyone to talk to , don't hesitate , call me . " She knew I felt kinda hurt, that I loved her a lot and I will not be probably able to sleep that night and before the last goodbyes , she asked me for a picture to see me and she also sent one. I have sent a picture of my sad face and she sent a picture of her eyes being kinda red and puffy (probably she cryed before sending it or just wanted to make me think she did) .
Fast forward less than 48 hours. I was outside with my friends . Walking and talking ,trying to think about anything else than what happened less than 48 hours before. SMS pops up on my phone. (We never talked via SMS Messages - Using different apps to talk ) .
Message : "What is up with you? 🥺 You don't give any signs of life" (translated from another language)
This happened yesterday. I did not replied.
If we said that we will not talk,not send messages and not send pics then why now after less than 2 days this message popped up ?

My partner and I moved into a condo in late February, paying around $2,000 a month. We have encountered several issues with our landlord and feel that legal action may soon be necessary. Here are some of the problems we have faced:

1. **Thumbtacks in Carpets**: We found thumbtacks all over the carpets. My partner has picked up about 50 of them from the two bedrooms and has stepped on a few.
   
2. **Appliances Installation**: Our appliances were not installed until two weeks after move-in. During installation, the baseboards were removed and never reinstalled despite my requests to fix this.
   
3. **Hood Ventilation System**: The hood ventilation system above the stove was never fully installed. The landlord claims it doesn’t matter if it works properly since it "only blows hot air." As a chef, this is a major issue for me because I can't cook without worrying about setting off the smoke alarm.
   
4. **Power Outlets**: Half of the power outlets in the kitchen don't work. The landlord blames it on us using too many appliances, even though we only have an air fryer and an electric kettle plugged in. The outlets never worked properly from the beginning, even before we used these small appliances. The only other appliances in the kitchen are the ones he installed.
   
5. **Dishwasher Leak**: The automatic dishwasher leaks water into the garage, causing a large puddle whenever we use it.
   
6. **Air Conditioning Units**: The air conditioning units in each of the four rooms leak water if turned on for more than an hour. This is particularly problematic as the weather is getting hotter, and it also invites roaches and other critters.
   

These issues have made living in the condo extremely difficult and uncomfortable.
I wish i could post pictures on this thread, if someone knows how please let me know. I'm looking for any legal help possible

For the past few weeks I've been trying to move my uBPD mom into a senior living apartment about an hour away from me. Long story short (and summarizing a few other posts I've posted on here), her and my dad are 110% not compatible for a variety of reasons, which on top of recent medical issues she's had caused stress and sent her into a medical emergency that almost killed her. It was the kick in the rear she needed to finally want to move out of the house, and I've been trying to do what I can to support her and move things forward.
I got in touch with an organization that helps find senior living. I found a potential apartment in a good area. I took half a day off work to go down and tour the place for myself. I acted as the "middle man" and filled her in on all the details and options, to which she agreed to and said it sounded great. I put down a $350 deposit to reserve the place for 60 days while she did the application. I filled out most of the application for her because she has a hand tremor - all she had to do was fill in her income details.
Every step along the way has been met with complaints - she can't remember the password to log in to her computer to print the application, which I'm apparently supposed to figure out for her. She has to go get the thing notarized and mail it back up, which annoys her. She has to provide proof of income, which is inconvenient. All along the way I've tried to support her, reassuring her that this is just part of the process and she'll be in a new place soon and will have the chance for a fresh start.
Everything came to a head today. She doesn't understand why the apartment needs to know her sources of income - I try to tell her that it's because they want to know she can pay rent, and I've had to do it for all the apartments I've lived in. She then creates a narrative in her head that she feels like they're going to screw her over, charging her more rent than other tenants because she has a pretty nice sized inheritance she received from her dad. She then spins it further saying that I picked a low income "ghetto" apartment for her, and the reviews she read all say the place is crap.
Not sure where she got that from or what complex she looked up, because the reviews I saw averaged 4.5 stars and the place has received awards from the county for being a great place to live. Not to mention I actually went down and SAW the place myself, including the EXACT apartment she'd be staying in.
She went from excited and eager to backtracking, claiming that I'm gullible and just take everything at face value and that it actually looks sketchy. Yes, I'm gullible, but I've lived in this area for 12 years and know what low-income apartments look like. Plus I FREAKING WENT AND LOOKED AT THE PLACE, gave her all the details I had on the amenities, sent pictures/videos, etc.
I talked on the phone with her earlier today and flat out told her she was misconstruing things. I finally got tired of spinning my wheels and told her I couldn't talk about this anymore, then hung up. She then proceeded to text me that she now has evidence it was low income because the $1775/month standard package she's applying for only includes XYZ, while the premium package includes ABCDEFGXYZ. I told her that we had already discussed premium vs. standard, and she had said in those conversations the standard sounded just fine for her needs.
She simply replied back "It's my life."
To which I told her that yes, it's her life, but if she backs out of this she's on her own finding a place. That I'm trying to help her but feel like she doesn't trust my judgment. I've spent so much time and energy to try to help her, all while juggling work and parenting and her complaints, with little to no appreciation. In fact, she had the nerve last week to say that SHE was doing all the work and I wasn't doing anything.
I told her that I didn't have the energy to deal with this right now and that I was turning the phone off, to which she said "Oh poor you."
I've since blocked her - not sure for how long yet, but as someone who is a chronic people pleaser and de-escalator who always folded under her it felt DAMN good to not cave to her delusions.

I (42F) moved out 2 months ago and divorce is on the table with my husband (44M), married 16 years. Some red flags in the first 7 years, but mostly positive. After kids and a bad job situation he was awful. Afraid to leave him awful. Raging at me and the kids, physically intimidating (but not touching), smashing and throwing things, getting drunk all the time, zero accountability, no concern for the damage he was wrecking and had victim mentality that everything was my fault, his job’s fault, the kids fault.
Three years ago I told him to leave, he begged and made promises to change, we went to counseling. He stopped throwing things and yelling, but his anger was still there. If he didn’t get his way, if I didn’t agree with him on something, if the kids were cranky, he would snap at us and sit on the couch and get drunk for days and ignore everyone. Every couple months over stupid things.
In between he would bounce back to normal or be extra nice, getting up early to do the dishes, buying flowers, showering me with compliments, being patient and involved with the kids, being super dad. Meanwhile, I am struggling to get over the last fight, waiting for the next explosion, trying to prevent an issue by not saying things that might cause a negative reaction, trying to buffer the kids so they don’t set him off.
We got into an argument about something stupid six months ago, and he screamed in my face and kicked in a door. I told him I can’t do it anymore. I want divorce.
He love bombed hard for months, “I’m so sorry, I’m going to change, I’m going to counseling, I love you. I failed you.” That didn’t bring me back so it switched to “everything is your fault, you didn’t communicate, I was trying so hard, you didn’t reciprocate, you didn’t praise me, I was confused and had no idea there was an issue”. Then it turned hateful. “You’re evil, you’re poisoning the kids against me, you’re mentally ill, disassociating, and a f-ing psycho bitch.”
We tried shared parenting for the last couple months and he kicked our son (9) out of the house dramatically 4 times. He kicked me out of his (still our) house and threatened to call the police on me after inviting me there, he came to my new place and was screaming and swearing at me in front of our kids, I did call the police. He’s harassed and cut me emotionally and spit venom at every opportunity since I left.
And now he’s sorry and he was just hurting so much and didn’t mean it, he loves me. In the last couple weeks of his newfound clarity and calm we talked and cried, and I was considering going back. He wanted to go to counseling and I said I don’t know if it’ll help, you’ll be more mad in a few months saying I wasted your time if it doesn’t.
He heard that as a rejection again, flipped out, stormed out, started sending me hurtful texts, pictures of my kid crying saying this is what you’re doing to them, sending me pics of all the girls he’s dating to replace me, telling me how he hopes I suffer and cry every day.
Then again,.. “I’m sorry, you broke me, you made me act like that, I’m willing to do anything and I’ll get help.” Followed up with “You’re mentally ill, you changed, it’s your fault, I’m a good man, I go to church and volunteer, how can I be the problem, you’re grumpy, you have unrealistic expectations, you turned into your mother, this is normal and you’re just giving up..”
Why do I still love this person? Why can’t I just walk away? Why am I wavering? Why am I mourning the end so hard? Is it about him at all or am I just afraid of being alone? What if he really is sorry and will change and I’ll miss out on the life and love I wanted? Am I the problem and drove him to this? Am I making too big of a deal of the last 3 years of silencing and silent treatments instead of focusing on the positive? Did I not do enough? Try enough?
I know this is not okay. Part of me is afraid to leave him, I think staying would be less hurtful for the kids and I. Which says how bad this is. He’s really laying the blame and gaslighting on thick right now to where I almost believe him. I feel crazy. I’m not right?!?

I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home we pass, a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. It reminds us that we are still living. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all.
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same abandoned house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and look up to see the front door of the house swing wide. Light pours out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries. The one who has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there, standing in touching distance from her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always left me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years since the last time I've seen her. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I begin to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three was the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more surprising, I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
A writhing anger fills me at this thought. I don't want to think of that day. The day the sun stopped shining. The day my life was uprooted and tossed carelessly in the trash. I try my best to tune that cursed melody out of my mind, but it fights me tooth and nail at every turn. It refuses to depart like a troublesome guest unwilling to take a hint. Even still, I find my feet moving towards the sound.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I know on the other side of the door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. A feeling of unease bubbles to the surface, bringing with it a queasy gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I feel my lunch begin to squirm its way back up, burning my throat and causing a tingling sensation deep in my nasal cavity.
I know all my efforts are fruitless. The memories will come back. The dam I built to hold them at bay has already begun to crack. It will crumble soon. I know enough to know that I don't want to know, yet the details of that day are fuzzy. With each step closer to the door they come into focus. And as my hand reaches for the gilded doorknob, all goes black.
I’m back.
Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide, and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. I take it all in. My brain makes the connections. Rage, white-hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hanging on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes, but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch as his brain matter leaks out to the floor.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart, and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she says, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?
johnwestrick.com

I know this isnt nextdoor but i’m so confused and dont know where to even address this. I was near 6th ave N and 9th st N for a job interview today. The interview went fantastic, and one of the workers mentioned a really good food truck around the corner. Its called Blu Hen Lagoon and it was really good!! Yall should check it out.
When I got in the car with my food, i needed to turn around in order to go the way i was supposed to. So i turned into 7th ave N which was a dead end and i did a 3 point turn to get out. When i was driving out, about to make my turn, a lady was standing across the street staring at me with her phone out taking pictures of me. I didnt want to assume it was of me, but once she realized i was looking, she made a face. And when i drove past, she took a picture of my license plate???
I dont know wtf i did, It’s not like i rear ended a car or tried to run her over. i specifically remember not breaking any traffic laws, or even inconveniencing any cars on the road because literally no one else was on the road.
wtf did i do wrong????? why did that lady take a photo of my car??? could i get a call from the police if she makes a report for whatever reason??? if the lady is in the subreddit, could we have a civilized discussion on what the hell i did wrong? im just a young person trying to do things right and having that happen today kinda made me spiral. i hope yall dont bully me for being so stressed about this.

Hey everyone,
I'm conducting a personal survey to help me, and others, cut through the noise and get a clear picture of the current state of the generative AI ecosystem. Your insights will be super helpful to me and others to shed some light on the tools, workflows and challenges faced by those building AI-powered applications.
The survey is super short (shouldn't take longer than 5 minutes) but I'm confident it'll give me enough to be able to draw some conclusions out of it.
You can find it here: https://form.typeform.com/to/GFvhGMZ5
P.S. The first question is asking for your e-mail which is not required but I'll use it to send you the report, some time mid-June!

My husband's grandmother is such a bitch. I was looking at pictures of my son and was smiling and she asked why i was smiling so i told her i was just thinking about my son. Her reply was "oh you never used to act that way about him". I could have punched her in the face because who tf says that to someone. My son is constantly on my mind even if i dont talk about it all the time.
Some info about her: She was an absent mother who rarely told her children she loved them. When her eldest was in highschool she fucked all of her friends on top of buying her 12 yr old liquor and cigarettes. She was also letting her 12yr old take her car to go wherever she wanted.
Her son has two Children that he never talks about and he hasnt seen them in yrs... if he seen them in public he wouldnt even recognize them.
It just baffles me that she thinks she can say something like that to me. When she was never a good mother.

Hey everyone,
I'm conducting a personal survey to help me, and others, cut through the noise and get a clear picture of the current state of the generative AI ecosystem. Your insights will be super helpful to me and others to shed some light on the tools, workflows and challenges faced by those building AI-powered applications.
The survey is super short (shouldn't take longer than 5 minutes) but I'm confident it'll give me enough to be able to draw some conclusions out of it.
You can find it here: https://form.typeform.com/to/GFvhGMZ5
P.S. The first question is asking for your e-mail which is not required but I'll use it to send you the report, some time mid-June!

Warning this is a long one. If anyone has seen Gilmore Girls, please picture my grandma as Emily Gilmore because I seriously don't know how they were able to capture my grandma so accurately.
This morning, I (22f) had what feels like a huge blow out with my grandma (74f) over text this morning. For a big background, I am my grandmas only living descendant. My birth mother died when I was 3 in a car accident, and she was my grandmas only child. My mother struggled with bipolar disorder and was in an abusive marriage with my father. After she died my grandparents attempted to get full custody of me and the result was visitation under grandparent rights. The court petition is available online and can be found by searching my full name, which is so great for me. Obviously, there was bad blood between my grandparents and my father. I grew up in the middle, scared to show that I loved my grandparents but also slightly distrusting of them because the stories they would tell me were different than what my father would.
I have tried to set boundaries with my grandma in the past. She calls me by my dead moms name occasionally. I ask her not to, she still slips up and does. She's inviting me to go to my moms grave, I don't feel comfortable doing that. She makes me feel guilty about no one putting flowers on their graves when they die. She's convinced I'm bi-polar despite me having been tested 3 times and being diagnosed as not bipolar. She will make passive aggressive comments about not only my but my boyfriend (23M) of 4 years weight and stretch marks. I've told her that we both struggle with eating disorders. After graduating I went from being 120lbs at 5'7 (underweight) to being 190lbs (overweight) in 4 years, some of the weight gain was healthy then the past year and a half I've put on the majority of it, becoming unhealthy. The past year and a half I have also had severe mental health struggles. I have ADHD, depression, and anxiety. I struggle to do a lot of basic things. I was seeing a therapist but then my insurance changed so I am trying to find someone new. I am on medication. I am actively getting help.
My grandma will call me 20 times in a day regularly. She'll text me more than that. When I haven't answered she has called my boyfriend at his job. She will harass my boyfriend and demand to know what I do every hour of everyday, despite him being at work apparently he's my babysitter. It is negatively impacting our relationship because he feels he's being forced into a parent role. She ruined a job interview for me one time because she wouldn't stop calling during it. I am terrified for her to show up unannounced. Luckily we live 4 hours away from each other, so I think I have a safe enough buffer. However, every weekend for the past month she has been trying to come and stay for the weekend.
Now on to the main confrontation/issue. My grandmas mom, my great grandma, offered to give me 1k a month so I could focus on finishing my degree (after this semester I have a semester & then a class left.) My only condition was that I focused on school. This morning my boyfriend sent me a text that said I needed to talk to my grandma as they were withdrawing their financial support. He sent me screenshots of their texts, I am going to transcribe them best I can without making this post too long. I feel like its getting long already lol.
GM to BF: We'll pay for her therapy. She needs talk & medicine. Her psychiatrist should do both. But the monthly 1k, so she doesn't have to work while she's getting the rest under control hasn't helped her. I'm afraid it has given her too much time alone, which is bad for her. I've worried that helping her not to have to work was a bad idea. She does much better with interaction. Maybe encourage her to come over, or take a trip with me during the next 3 weeks (my summer classes start). She needs interaction. She was much better in high school because she was so involved.
BF to GM: Will do, she has been looking at getting a summer job.
GM: Doing the monthly may be hurting more than helping. She wasn't even successful with her classes, even without the outside job. I THINK she would do things if she was here. Crafts, cards, all the extended family. Right now we're just paying her to stay home and read. I don't think the 1k will continue. It was for her to do her classes without having to work through December.
BF: I'd text her and mention that. You should talk to her SPECIFCALLY about losing the 1k.
GM: But it didn't work so why would we still do it? Classes were supposed to be her job. She completed 10 of 18 hours. She didn't do her weekly progress reports and didn't send us her finals. Never once. If that was her "job" paying her weekly, and anyone else as her boss, would she still have that job?
BF: I don't have that answer. I can't speak for her on those things.
GM: You know the answer is no. This is not helping her. This is a face to face conversation. Her story is not what I know to be the truth as I related to you.
GM: I know she lost her scholarship and just isn't telling us. I'm sure she's not proud of it. I told you earlier, that I knew she was in a bad place. That was when I needed to help her. Not after it was too late. She just said there was a cap on the amount of scholarship and she's used it. She's getting a student loan to finish. I'm proud of her for doing that instead of asking us. BUT, what I've pieced together is what I said earlier. And her loan is because she has to pay back the scholarship and tuition going forwards. Right now is the best time for her to transfer(to a college where she lives.) I knew we were in trouble when she sent me a photo of a stack of books she checked out from the library. I had zero time to read books when I was a college student, and I didn't have a job in addition.
BF: While that may be true, you also were in different classes. It's good for her to have time to do things she likes when she's not in class.
GM: I had a social life with other people. I did not stay isolated. She does well with others. Alone drags her down. Just like her mom. A powerhouse when she's involved. Depressed and anxious when she's alone. She's become totally reliant on you. She's lost her independence and drive. I know its flattering you want to be her savior, but for different reasons, its crippling for both of you.
BF: I don't want to be her savior. I really don't.
GM: Rescuer
BF: I really want more than anything for her to be self reliant so we can both lean on each other. I just know at the end of the day I will always support my girl.
GM: That's best but she has to let go & stand up. Develop a broader network to build strength, You are her core! Like a center pole in a tent. Now she needs the other stakes to have the support.
I took 14 credit hours this semester and I only dropped 1 class that was 2 credit hours because I could take it in the summer and lighten my load. I passed all my other ones with As & Bs. I misspoke to my grandma about my scholarship. I told her it was 5k and then I was out but in actuality it was 20k, 5k per semester not total. I've used 4700 so far. That still doesn't explain why she thought I had lost it but ya know. I see my friends at minimum once a week. I have 6 close friends I regularly see. I text with them daily. I grab dinner with them. I game online with them. I attend class 2 times a week. I only see my boyfriend 2 nights a week and on Sundays, and we LIVE together.
My grades conveniently became available online at the same time this conversation was sent to me. So I took a screenshot of my grades and sent them to my grandma.
OP to GM: Here are my grades. I also sent them to grandpa. Thanks so much for believing in me, not. You are the last person I want to see or talk to right now. BF showed me everything. When I am read to talk I'll let you know.
GM to BF: I cannot believe you did this. Now she is furious with me & won't talk to me. I told you that in confidence. You need to fix this. That's not good things for her to know out of context.
OP to GM: Actions have consequences. The consequence of your action is that I am not speaking to you. If you continue to message BF, I will be blocking you on his phone. Not only today, but previously, has been highly inappropriate. I am NOT a child. I do NOT need babysitting. I do NOT need rescuing by you. You are NOT my savior. Stop trying to be.
GM: *Long message trying to re-explain how the messages were worded.* I told BF you're smart and a powerhouse! I just want to see your independent spirit and get you there again. I am your biggest supporter. You're misinterpreting this.
OP: BF screenshotted everything and sent it to me before I ever said anything to you. I don't know how reading exactly what you have been saying about me is misinterpreting things. Please stop messaging me.
When I was in high school I was awake from 6:00am-2:00am. I was in 10 clubs/sports, all honors classes, I was starving myself, I slept less than 4 hours on average. I was a walking zombie that was living off a strange energy that being starving & sleep deprived creates. I was miserable. I was depressed. I was anxious. I only had time for friends in school. If you didn't have a class or lunch with me, you never talked to me. I struggled with school work at home because my adhd. I was not a powerhouse, I was fighting to survive everyday and I feel like I used up every piece of energy I'll ever have then.
This is where we left off. I feel guilty confronting my grandma about it, and feel like I should apologize. But like I said to my BF after he got upset with me for him being in the middle:
Its an incredibly overwhelming relationship that has baggage older than I am which has been put on me my entire life. It has been like this my whole life, except that until I was 18, I was the middle. I know it's a lot, but this is how she is. She is an intrusive controlling and manipulative person, while it may from from a place of care, she still is those things. Herr loving me and being kind to us does not take away the hurt and pain that she causes me. It is not care and love when there are stipulations to that care and love. She's constantly weaponizing my dead mom's mental illness against me. She wants to send me money so I don't have to work and can focus on school but when that actually helps me then I'm not nearly busy enough for her liking. She's also creating a hostile environment where I can't express if I am struggling because then it'll be "I told you so" and then I'll have to drop out of school because they'll stop providing financial support.
So reddit, AITA for confronting my grandma about her texts to my boyfriend?

I've been using coconut oil for years now. I even used to use it on my face all the time everyday at some point. Then stopped and started using things like Cerave.
I would use coconut oil to cook with, to do oil pulls. I use it in my hair and other parts of my skin. But for some reason under my eyebrows and my mustache area it ends up breaking out into a rash.
I suffer from undiagnosed autoimmune conditions and deal with candida. So often in those areas I typically would break out in dandruff. So I'm guessing maybe because the coconut oil moisturizes so well, it can't break out in the typical dandruff. And instead it turns into a full blown rash.
It sucks because it seems like it's going well for my hair. And it seems to be improving other sorts of skin slowly. But that rash is really irritating and if I was cleanly shaved, it would be extremely visible. So I just stopped using on my face altogether and it calmed down.

Before you read any further, check out our Unit Culture Primer to see what we’re all about.
NATO JOINT SPECIAL OPERATIONS COMMAND
US CENTCOM
OPERATION AGAMEMNON
3D COMBINED JOINT TASK FORCE “ROUGH RIDERS”
The 3rd Combined Joint Task Force, colloquially known as the Rough Riders, is a special purpose task force created by NATO JSOC with the intent of deterring CSAT influence in the Mediterranean and abroad. Falling under US Central Command, the Rough Riders are a unit hand picked from volunteers across all NATO/ANZUS operating forces. Typically, the Rough Riders are attached to conventional NATO forces to serve as force multipliers. They specialize in Direct Action, Counter-Insurgency, Special Reconnaissance, and forward observation for NATO fire support assets.
What we do:
The year is 2029, and the world stands poised for great change. With rising tensions in the Middle East and the Pacific, a new world power has emerged: the Canton protocol Strategic Alliance (CSAT). Premiered by China and Iran, this new treaty organization stands poised to threaten NATO's long-reigning global military hegemony. A new Cold War has begun.
In the face of this new threat, NATO Joint Special Operations Command has authorized the formation of a special purpose unit to directly intervene against CSAT’s growing sphere of influence. As a member of the Rough Riders, you will witness firsthand the years leading up to ArmA 3’s “The East Wind” campaign and the vibrant political climate of 2035. Your actions and the actions of your brothers in arms will tell the story of NATO defiance in the face of CSATs rise to power. You’ll have epic tales to tell, comrades to mourn, and more than enough action.
In the Rough Riders, we put storytelling and fun at the forefront. With a wonderful team of Game Masters and Writers, we aim to give you those “movie moments” and incredible stories of heroism, intense combat, and even hilarity when ArmA decides to ArmA somebody (or all of us).
What can I expect from the Rough Riders?

• A welcoming, friendly environment.
• Training without the boredom! If this is your first time ever playing ArmA that’s perfectly fine!
• Work Hard, Play Harder Mentality
• Leadership and promotion opportunities.
• Your feedback to be valued, regardless of how new you are.
• The freedom to switch between roles without a stuffy MOS system.
• Roleplay.

What do the Rough Riders expect from me?

• Willingness to learn, follow orders, and contribute to the success of the team.
• To respect your fellow Rough Riders.
• A working microphone.
• A sense of humor.

What does “Accessible Milsim” mean?
In the Rough Riders, we've built our community around making the junior enlisted experience as drama-free as possible. We believe that solid milsim operations can still work without suffocating our enlisted with constricting MOS systems and countless hours of basic training. The idea is that new members can join the unit, download the mods and jump right into the action.
This is made possible by increasingly serious levels of milsim orientation the further up the chain of command you go. Your average player can jump right into fun and challenging operations if their Fireteam and Squad Leaders have the adequate training and mentality. By volunteering to try for a leadership position, you increase your commitment and seriousness level.
Accessible milsim means that you choose the level of dedication and milsim seriousness that you want. From casually showing up to be boots on the ground blowing stuff up, to managing training and combat leadership, all the way to the paperwork simulator that comes with an officer commission.
You get out what you put in.
Training:
You don't need to be a grizzled ArmA veteran to join the Rough Riders. Our simple training program is intended to bring even brand new players up to speed without killing them with boredom. You can expect to learn the following:
- TFAR Setup
- Rough Riders Intro (who we are, what we do, expectations-both ways)
- Intro to Unit Life (who you are, what you'll be doing as a new member, chain of command)
- Role Interest Declaration (helps us shape and personalize your training)
- ArmA Basics
- ACE Basics
- TFAR Basic Training
- Common Sense Combat/Fireteam Training
- CQB Basic Training
Between deployments, we do a garrison rotation that is focused on catching any new members up to speed and helping veteran members and NCOs grow and improve. The Hebontes schedule is a several week process. This allows for the writing/zeusing team to have time to create a quality deployment with all the necessary lore bits and planning considerations, while giving the unit time to relax and make mistakes in a controlled and learning-focused environment.
Opportunities:
Rough Riders members fill a multitude of roles, and are allowed to switch between them for different missions so long as they have passed the appropriate training. Roles available to Rough Riders are:
-**Rifleman/Designated Marksman
-AT/AA Specialist
- Automatic Rifleman
-Grenadier
-Radio Operator
-Combat Medic/ MEDEVAC Medic
-Combat Engineer
-Artilleryman/Fire Direction Officer
-Rotary-wing Aircraft Crew/Pilot
-Fixed-wing Aircraft Pilot
-IFV/APC Crew/Commander
-Media ReporteJournalist
-Zeus
Leadership opportunities are made available to interested members who are noted to possess technical competency and the ability to communicate effectively. Through a program we call the Warrior Leaders Course, NCO candidates are put to the test via a series of written and field exams. We have systems in place for leadership development too- so if you’re not ready to lead now (but want to), we can teach you how to be a leader.
Community members may join our writing/zeusing team and contribute to the development of our world in-game. It is expected that these individuals be team players overall, and be able to understand and support the bigger picture as determined by the administration team. At the end of the day it's about making sure the players had fun, and telling a memorable story/giving them opportunities to have stories about the operation- not about how cool you are as a Zeus.
**Designated Marksman/Sniper School is open to Rough Riders with a score of 38+ (Expert) on their Rifle Qual, who have achieved the rank of Lance Corporal. Members are eligible for promotion to Lance Corporal after one (1) full deployment with the unit.
Operations:
We operate Monday/Friday/Saturday starting at ~7pm-~8pm EST. Tuesday/Thursday are off days(and members typically play other games like ESO, Hearts of Iron, Star Citizen, Stellaris, and Rising Storm 2 together), and Sunday is reserved for training as Squad Leaders see fit.
There is no mandatory attendance expectation- we want to see you around, but everyone understands that real life comes first.
We operate on a deployment system, meaning that we spend prolonged periods of time in various regions of the world participating in roughly 1-2 month long persistent environments. Between these deployments we dedicate a few weeks to retraining the unit, catching new players up on anything they haven't already figured out during their deployment, and testing NCO candidates while our Zeus/Writer team works on the next deployment.
Information:
Founded September 2018, Rough Riders is actively seeking new members to help increase our core of dedicated players. We operate with a reinforced platoon that includes infantry and a myriad of support elements also manned by our members.
The Rough Riders consists of primarily North American (NA) members, and so most things are scheduled with that in mind. We do however have an international community with wonderful members from places like Australia, Laos, Russia, and elsewhere. Anybody and everybody is welcome in the Rough Riders- we just ask that you are able to speak, read, and understand English.
To join, simply join our discord and introduce yourself! No application necessary, and no sitting through hours of tedious basic training just to blow things up.
Check out some badass screenshots!: https://imgur.com/a/MEvB9by
Our discord server: https://discord.gg/KEKeawr
Our Official Arma 3 Unit page: https://units.arma3.com/unit/3djtf

Part 1
Chicago, 2016. Flinn Gerald is doing his best to make it in the city. Born in Selma, Alabama, he has spent his entire life trying to escape the ever tightening grasp of his small town. But alas, he made it out and is adapting to life in the big city. With a big fancy corporate job, an endless supply of friends, an apartment with a stunning view of the lake, and great distance from his family, what more could he need? Well, there is a lot more (or less) that he needs, but of course that is a story for later.
On a typical Tuesday night at a bar, the regulars crowd in. Flinn is late, as usual, as he stayed late at work (again), but on his arrival, the cheers and hugs from all the friends make everyone forget of the regular inconvenience. Conversation ensued, starting with all the boring finance jargon, but as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation, moving away from work and more into life. This is what everyone preferred.
“Another round, anyone?” asked Raheem, enthusiastically. After a murmur of concurrence, he stood up to make his way up to the bar. “Flinn, care to lend a hand?”
Raheem Bartlett was Flinn’s college roommate and the first person he met outside of his hometown. The pair hit it off instantly despite having wildly different backgrounds. Even in their freshman year, the engineer and the finance major would get into all sorts of trouble together, but eventually they leveled out. Six years later, they still have each other’s backs just like day one.
The pair made their way up to the bar and waited to get the bartender's attention. “What's up with you, bro?” asked Raheem. “You’ve been seeming a bit off.”
“Oh, ya know. Work, life, everything kinda happens so fast. Work has been busy as of late, and the hours long.”
Seeming displeased by this answer, Raheem stared back in concern.
“Really, I’m fine… just long hours.”
“Back in school you’d pull back to back all-nighters and then still make it to a morning class. I find it hard to believe that the mighty Flinn would be so setback by ‘long hours’.”
Flinn took a moment to ponder, staring down at the bar covered in various stamps and postcards beneath the epoxy surface. “I guess, ya know, it's not all it was cracked up to be. I guess I had expected more.” Flinn had mostly dropped his accent, but occasionally it would still slip out.
Despite coming from a long line of mill workers (mostly paper) and farm hands who never ventured further than the Dallas county line, Flinn yearned to leave his small town and conquer the world from a young age. Coming from the poorest county in Alabama, his family always squashed his dreams, labeling them as impossible. But Flinn knew better. Or, at least he knew he could do better. Graduating top of his class a year early and winning a full-ride scholarship to Northwestern University, he had proved everyone wrong and set his own path. The path he was told was impossible became his reality.
“More what?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, what more is there? This is what I always wanted, right? The stable job in the city, never having to worry about money. It’s great, and I couldn’t be more grateful, but… something is missing. Doing the same thing day after day staring at a screen, moving clients money around. I… just hoped it would be more fulfilling, especially after all it took to get here.”
Before he could finish his thought, the bartender came up to take their order: another round for the table, plus a round of shots, plus two more shots.
“What am I saying, really?” added Flinn. “I shouldn’t be complaining. Look at where I am now compared to six years ago. So much has changed. My home, friends, even my diet. I just feel a bit off. Like I need something more to do..
“I get it, bro. Adjusting to your new life can be rough. Enjoy it for a minute or two.” Raheem slides a shot in front of Flinn. “Here, take this.”
Tuesday had become fairly consistent to this point for this group of misfits: Raheem and his girlfriend Amy; Jack; Jasper, from Flinn’s firm, and his wife Max; and of course, Flinn. For nearly two years, these six have been meeting at O’Malley’s every Tuesday night for drinks and trivia. Some nights are more wild than others, but Tuesday has become the staple of the week among them.
Drinks flowed pretty regularly and heavy over the next few hours as the clock approached the end of day. Still going round for round on alternating tabs, the useless debates began to heat up.
“You can’t seriously think Wicker Park is the best neighborhood outside the Loop. Y’all need to get out more,” said Flinn.
“Bro it’s obviously Wicker Park,” argued Raheem.” Right on the blue line, getting to O’Hare is insanely easy, plus you can’t find better music in the city. Besides, Wicker Park has Davenport’s.”
“No one ever says Wicker Park,” adds Jack. “Have you ever heard someone say Wicker Park before?”
“Dude, but you can obviously get to O’Hare from anywhere in the city,” said Flinn
“Sure, but beats walking through that dumb Block 37 Center transfer like you and your red line. No transfer is the way to go, plus the blue line gets you right to the center of the loop.”
“So does every other L line as long as ya don’t mind walking a few blocks!”
“You’re both wrong,” adds Max. “Neither matters because Midway is better anyways.”
“Woah!” the whole table murmurs, sharing shocked looks as if she just confessed to a crime. Flinn rolled his eyes at this notion.
“Who flies out of Midway?” asks Raheem.
“What? Less people, cheaper flights, and more space. Why wouldn’t I fly out of Midway?” said Max.
“Wait, wait, that aside,” interrupts Raheem, “can we go back to the fact that Jasper thinks Sheffield is the best neighborhood? I feel like we moved past that too quickly.”
The debate rages on for many more minutes, until Flinn, seemingly out of nowhere, had enough.
“Can y’all just shut the fuck up! Why does it even matter?” Everyone’s glance quickly shot over to Flinn as a deafening silence overtook the table. Everyone pondered how to respond, and couldn’t seem to find an answer. This behavior from Flinn was unexpected, nay, unheard of. Flinn was the most level headed amongst them by far. Not even Raheem, his best friend of six years, had ever seen him get angry, let alone over an inconsequential friendly argument. “I…” Not even Flinn knew what to say next. “I’m going to go home. Long day tomorrow.” Already on his feet, he quickly walked away from the table and out the door.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk home was fairly brisk, but Flinn had grown fond of the cold. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and hunched his shoulders forward, only looking down at the pavement ignoring the mostly asleep but still wide awake city surrounding him. His thoughts ran wild and near out of control. Of course, his intoxication did not help with clarity, but the inner dialogue was deafening. Not even he knew what was bothering him, but he was obviously bothered, deeply. He made a fool of himself in a way he never had before, and right now he felt he did not recognize himself. Surely some sleep will help, right?
He slowly made his way down the steps to the platform, carefully watching each step as to not fall, to wait for his train. He posted up against a pillar and stared off onto the dark, empty tracks. What has gotten into me? He did his best to calm his racing, wasted mind searching for some legibility amongst his thoughts.
Once he finally got home, he slumped down on the couch and scarfed down some week-old sushi he found in the fridge. He turned on some old documentary and was asleep before he knew it.
Suddenly, he was woken up by his phone ringing. It usually does not ring this time of night and was less than thrilled to be woken, so he let it keep ringing. It stopped after a couple of seconds, and he glanced down at the screen:
Mama
(2) missed calls
Dad
(1) missed call
Now concerned, he calls his mom back in a hurry. “Hello?”
“Flinn? Your grandfather, he’s dead.”
Part 2
The wet air engulfed Flinn’s face as he stepped out the airport doors into a warm February day. Six years had passed since he smelled the Alabama air. Even after all this time, it still smells just as he had remembered as if not even a day had passed. The drive to Selma was another ninety minutes, and despite having five days to mentally prepare himself for his arrival, it was not nearly enough time. He had not seen or spoken to anyone from his town, not even family, since he left early that August morning all those years ago. He left everything behind to start his new life. The life so many told him to not start, that he needed to stay. He left anyway and never looked back.
That was, until now. He had little choice in this regard. He knew he would have to make his return someday, but he knew not when nor for what. But today was that day. Flinn and his grandfather (Pops) had always been close. If anyone had been supportive of him, it’d have been Pops, but he was a man of little words. Even when he could talk, he hardly chose to. He was a great listener, and not just because he could not speak. He showed he was engaged and listening no matter what Flinn had to say. At times, he felt Pops was the only one who understood him as if he had been just like him before, but no one would ever talk about his past. All Flinn knew is Pops lost his tongue after a failed lynching.
The familiarity of the scenery zipping past was bittersweet. He had not realized how much he missed the rolling hills and thick forests beneath the unforgiving southern sky. He kept his head pressed against the cool glass of the car window even through the constant bumps in the road. He couldn’t look away. So many memories happened here, and the closer he got, the more plentiful the memories became, and the more potent they were, and the more painful they’d become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the dust settled behind him, he stood on the driveway staring at his childhood home still unsure how to process his emotions. It was all so overwhelming. He was thinking everything at once. He took a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and swallowed. He reached for the door handle, hesitating slightly, and took a step in. One foot, and then the next.
“Martin!” Flinn smiled as his old friend and childhood dog rushed towards him without hesitation. He knelt down and embraced him as Martin excitedly rustled through his arms seemingly showing more energy than he had in years.
He walked down the hall and around the corner into the living room. There, both drawn to the large television like moths to a flame, he saw his parents sitting beside one another on the couch watching some daytime program with their backs to him. They seemed to pay no notice to the commotion at the front door nor the loud creaking footsteps he took along the old wooden floors. They knew he was there; they just chose to ignore him. He walked into view to greet them. "Mama, dad." His father smiled slightly but caught himself and refrained.
Mama kept a straight face, but seemed to be fighting tears."Howard, help Flinn with his bags, dear."
“No, it's alright, I know where to take them,” said Flinn. “How are y’all?”
“Service is tomorrow at eleven down at the ole First Baptist Church. Make sure to wear something nice.”
“Alright, mama. I’ll... I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Whole family is coming tonight. Dinner is served at...”
“At seven, I got it, just as always.”
“It’s good to see you, kid.” said his dad. “Let me know if you need anything”
He did not expect things to go like that, not that he knew what to expect. He had hoped time would have been more forgiving. Perhaps leaving unannounced in the middle of the night was not the best plan, but at the time he felt as if he had no other choice. Everyone knew he was leaving. That was no secret and had not been for years before any plan had actually been set into motion. No one knew the date or time, except for Pops, of course, but he’d never tell. Of course he wanted everyone to know. He wanted everyone to be proud of him, but it was too big of a risk and commendations were too much to expect. Besides, Mama always had her schemes, and had she known, she would have found a way to stop him.
Not much had changed since he’d been here last. The old wood paneling still lined nearly all the walls, crack in some spots, replaced in others, but all coated by decades of cigarette soot. On the walls were a combination of family portraits from over the years and cheap artwork found at the flea market. Old green furniture, too many house plants to count, and a tacky themed kitchen, it was all still the same.
His childhood bedroom, however, was much different. Hardly even recognizable, what was once his bedroom was now a storage room filled with endless shelves and boxes. He set his things on the lonely cot in the corner, sat down, and took it all in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not realizing he had drifted off, Flinn awoke and looked at the clock. 6:55. Convenient. He sat up and brushed his hair down with his hand as he suspected it was sticking up in the usual way. He rubbed his eyes and made his way to the dining room. The whole family was there, probably about twenty people or so, all scattered about throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room engaged in various conversations. His nana, aunt, and Mama were cooking away putting the final touches on the large meal.
“Well if it isn’t this fucker…” said a familiar voice to his left, laughing. Flinn looked over to see his cousin who’s just a year younger than him.
“DeAndre, how are you?”
“Never thought I’d see you again, even since you left. Thought maybe you ‘ood be dead.”
“Nah,” Flinn laughed. “Still very much alive.”
“I can see dat. Wearin’ your fancy suit and all.”
“Yeah I’ve been doing pretty well. Work has been… good. I have a great job at a finance firm in Chicago. Everything has been… Good. Yeah, good. How about you?”
“Now you ain’t goin’ city on us, are you?”
Flinn laughed. “I think I might already be.”
Just as dinner was finishing up, a line started to form and people found a seat wherever they could, be it at the table, on the couch, near the counter, or outside.
“Flinn!” his dad called out. “I saved ya a seat here at the table, kid.”
Flinn took his seat right next to his dad which positioned him right across from Mama. The table could sit eight, and the seats filled in pretty quickly so he was lucky to get one. Besides his sister, all of the oldest family members took the other four chairs.
The dinner itself was mostly uneventful, except for the food of course which was extraordinary. Flinn had not eaten Mama’s cooking, or anything like it in six years. The southern food in Chicago was alright, but nothing like what you can get down here, and no restaurant is going to have the same quality and taste as a home-cooked meal. By God, he had not realized how much he needed this. It was almost healing, like a part of his soul had been lost and he found it once again. The last week had been incredibly overwhelming, and last Saturday he never foresaw being here now, but he was glad he was, regardless of the looming tension. All the stress from work and life back home in Chicago was now all gone. All he had to worry about was… oh yeah, the family drama. The dreaded interactions, what he had suppressed for so long, that had kept him up at night for years. All those long nights doing homework or anything else beside sleeping. They had not been by choice but rather necessity. He would have slept more if he could, and some of those nights he really needed to, but instead was kept motivated by the pain. The pain of knowing no matter what he did, no matter how successful in life he became, he would never be good enough for his family, good enough for Mama, because he left them.
If there ever was a time to clear his conscience and get everything out of the way, it would be today, or at least over the next couple of days. When else would he have the chance? Not that any of this had been planned, and his therapist would probably advise against it. She did not even know he was here. What would she have to say? Avoiding conflict has always been his choice. He has always been quiet, never been at the center of drama, but some things need to be said. Just, maybe not by him. If he waited long enough, perhaps they would come up on their own. So he decided to wait, but he knew time was limited and he could not wait forever.
“Mama, could you pass the butter?”
Mama just stared back at him. “Get ya own damn buttah, since ya can do everything else on ya own.”
Flinn stands up and reaches for the butter. “I can do everything myself, and I have. I hope you’re proud, Mama.”
“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe my job, my degree, everything I have been able to do to build a good life for myself.”
“I don hear anything worthy of praise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mama.”
“Oh, so now you’re sorry? You could’ve fooled me. Is that how you felt when you left? Unbelievable.”
“I left because I had no other choice.”
“Oh don go lyin’ to me now. You did have a choice. You had a choice and you chose to leave us. You didn’t say goodbye, and you were just gone in the mornin’.”
“If I had not just left, you would’ve stopped me.”
“Cause you ain’t got no reason to go nowhere.”
“I had plenty of reasons to want to leave, and not because of you. I’ve always had dreams, Mama, ya know that. I’ve always been bigger than just this town.”
“Oh, so now you’re too good for us, city boy? Huh? I don wanna hear no more of it.”
“It wasn’t about that, Mama. Look at all I’ve been able to do.”
“I ain’t see nothin’. You never call and you never visit. How am I supposed to know what you been doin’?”
“I thought you didn’t want me coming around any more?”
“Well, you’ve got that right. Glad to see you still have some brains left.”
“Well excuse me. Maybe it's best if I leave again. Sorry I ain’t make you proud, Mama.” Flinn got up and left the table.
Part 3
Just as the early light began to peak through the blinds, Flinn was woken up by a firm knock at his door. “Flinn, may I come in? It's Uncle Terrence.”
Flinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yep, come in.”
“How are you this morning, kid? Ya know, she’ll never admit it, but ya Mama missed ya.”
“I find it hard to believe.” Deep down Flinn knew it was true, but she was hard as a rock, and arrogant. She would always find a way to be right, even when she knew she was wrong, and she would never let you know she knew she was wrong.
“Well, we’re all proud of you, kid.” Flinn hated when Terrence and everyone called him kid. “Just wish yoo’d come around and see us every once in a while. I know ya busy with all the big city stuff and all.”
“I thought no one wanted anything to do with me any more?”
“At first, maybe, but I miss ya, kid. Ya know who missed ya most of all?”
“Pops?”
“Yes, of course. He always wanted to know about ya, every time I’d come round. He couldn’t call, but always wanted me to.”
“I should have called.”
“I think everyone wanted to call, but as time went on, it became harder and harder to push that button. It was already so hard at first, and only got harder.”
“I thought about everyone a lot, especially at first. Leaving was really hard, and I almost didn’t, but I always wanted more. I didn’t want to spend my whole life in this town, and if I had not left when I did I probably never would have. But it was still hard. I wanted to go home so many times, but I convinced myself no one wanted me here no more or that y’all would’ve said ‘I told ya so’ or sum bullshit. No one wanted me around any more and I had left, so I was stuck on the path I chose. And I’m happy, and I’ve done so much, but it’s never been easy.”
“Pops was a lot like you when he was your age. Set on leaving as quickly as he could. Things were different back then, not that they are any better now, but Hank... my brother… Pops, was just like you.”
“What changed?”
“Well, he never did. Just no one talks about it anymore. After what happened on that day, they blamed his behavior. Said he should’ve played it safe and he’d still have his tongue.”
“No one has ever told me the story.”
“And they won’t. It changed the whole family.”
“But you’ll tell me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell. I don need an earful from ya Mama.”
“I promise.”
“Hank couldn’t be confined to Selma, just like you. He joined the army right out of high school, and after he was done in Lebanon, he didn’t go straight home.”
“Where did he go?”
“Everywhere but here. He used the small amount of money he got from the army and went anywhere that would let him in. Across Europe, parts of Asia, Northern Africa, even parts of South America. Of course, a young black man traveling by himself at the time was challenging, but Hank could hold his own pretty well. He still ran into all sorts of trouble. He spent more nights in jail than he would have liked, but he would have done it all again if he could.”
“What happened when he got back?”
“He was much different, but for the better. He couldn’t wait to get back out there again. He had confidence like I had never seen before. That’s what got him in trouble not too long after.”
“How’d he lose his tongue? I’m guessing that is what changed everything.”
“When he got back, he got involved with a girl, I think her name was Susan. She was the mayor’s daughter. They snuck around for a while. Their relationship was not acceptable, especially to her father. If he found out, Hank would be in a lot of trouble, and of course eventually he did find out. He spent about a month in jail in just awful conditions even for the time. They didn’t have anything to hold him on so eventually they had to let him go. About a week after he got out, he was walking downtown and some guys grabbed him. He took him out to a field and tried to lynch him. Luckily, they failed and he survived, but they took his tongue as a warning. He was never the same after that. All of his confidence was gone, and of course he couldn’t speak no more.”
Flinn did not know how to respond. It all made sense now: why the family so desperately wanted him to stay, why they were so hurt by him leaving, and why they’d feared who he was becoming. They were all traumatized and wanted to protect him. They did not want him to suffer the same fate as Pops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The funeral itself was fairly uneventful and went nearly as perfectly as expected. The church filled in with hardly any empty seats, tears were shed, and speeches were given. Pops touched the lives of almost everyone he met, and they came to show it. After the service was the reception, and yet again, the food was spectacular. Everyone got along just fine today and there was no more residual drama, at least for now. Today was Pops’ day.
After the reception, the family gathered back at Mama’s house for the reading of the will. Pops did not have many possessions, at least not of monetary value, but what he did have was meaningful in other ways. He was very clear on who he wanted to give off, and handpicked what would be most substantial to each person.
Everyone gathered around much as they did at dinner, and the lawyer began his reading:
I, Hank Gerald, a resident in the City of Selma, County of Dallas, State of Alabama, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament, and hereby absolutely revoke any and all other wills and amendments previously made by me.
The reading went on for some time as there were many beneficiaries. Flinn began to daydream about what could be left for him. Flinn was not a very sentimental person, so trinkets and heirlooms paid him little interest. Perhaps his car, or maybe money. Something that will be useful to him.
To my dear brother, Terrence, I leave my 1964 Pontiac GTO and all tools and parts associated and necessary with/for the running and upkeep of the vehicle.
The further down the list he went, less was given, but this is to be expected. As the end of the list neared, Flinn began to wonder what would be left for him if anything at all. The will had been in order of age, to this point, so he should be up soon.
To my Granddaughter, Nia,...
Nia? She's younger than me… Flinn thought.
I leave her my grandmother’s locket containing a picture of my Grandfather before he left for the Great War. She looked at it everyday to keep the memory of him alive until he eventually returned to her alive.
How could he skip me? Perhaps I should have called, or never left. Flinn got lost in his own thoughts and barely paid attention to the rest of the will. He and Pops were so close, and he never imagined he would be taken out of the will. But that is my own fault, afterall. I left, and I never even care to call. He died, and I never even said goodbye.
Just as Flinn began to accept the consequences of his actions, they got to the last beneficiary listed in the will:
Finally, to my oldest Grandson, Flinn, who is more and more like me than I ever could have wished to have been, I leave my journal. I hope whenever you need the motivation, you read it to find the meaning you are looking for in life.
Part 4
Flinn sat at his desk unable to focus. It was fairly slow for a Friday, but he still had work to do. After a chaotic weekend back home in Alabama, he was ready to settle back into his monotonous routine. The experience had been healing in some regards, but still left a lot unanswered. What did he mean by finding the meaning in life? Flinn wondered as he flipped through the endless pages of Pops’ journal, all filled with endless recounts, drawings, symbols, and pictures from his travels, just as he had since Monday. The journal consumed his whole attention, and nothing else seemed important enough to focus on. He had even ditched his friends all week which he never does.
He is supposed to meet Raheem for drinks tonight, but now he is wondering if he even wants to go. There is just too much in his head right now. He just wants to be alone. 12:37. The clock is moving too slowly. Flinn clears his calendar for the rest of the day and decides to go home.
At home, he still finds himself flipping through the pages of the journal, not even reading them but just looking at them. Again and again, he flips through until he has enough. He drops the journal on his lap and stares off into the distance at the gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. The endless city and skyline take up most of the horizon until it just stops, cut off by the endless ocean-like lake. He stares at it for quite a while until something catches his eye. He has seen this before. Well, of course he has. He lives here and this is his view everyday. But he knows he has seen it somewhere else.
He picks the journal back up and flips through in a hurry. There it is. He holds the journal up to the window to show a matching two-page drawing of this exact view. Well, not exact. It is a slightly different angle, but it was close enough. Pops was here. He would have loved visiting. I should have invited him. This made Flinn sad, and he threw the journal down on the table in frustration.
Just then, that is when he noticed it. There was a page sticking out from the journal, but it was not like the rest. The page was white and pristine, aside from a few wrinkles, as if it was new, whereas the rest of the journal showed its age. He rushed over to grab it. He opened it to find a letter, addressed to him:
Grandson, When you left, I knew that you would accomplish everything you set out to do. I also knew, however, you would find yourself lost someday, returning home for answers. I was hoping I’d be able to give you those answers myself, but as time goes on that seems less likely. I too found myself lost, and I knew not why. I had gone and seen the world, and it changed me, but I was still not fulfilled. I came home still looking for the answers, and it took a while, but eventually I did find them.
Through this journal, I hope to share my findings so that you too, when you are lost, find the answers you seek. Whenever you are ready, follow my journey and the clues I have left for you. Go out and see the world, just as I did. You will find that what you want from life is less than what you expect.
I hope the experiences you have are less harsh than my own, but still be careful. The world has changed a lot, but still not enough. But don’t skip ahead for the meaning may be lost. Take only one step at a time, and when it comes time to take the next step, it will reveal itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven o’clock rolls around and Flinn walks into the bar to meet Raheem. He hasn’t seen Raheem, or anyone else from the group, since last Tuesday when he had his outburst. He begins by telling the story of the events of this last weekend, but leaves out the parts about Pops’ past.
"Pops left me a hidden letter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raheem.
“Like in his journal, I found a hidden letter. It was addressed to me.”
“What did it say, bro?”
“He says he was a lot like me when he was my age. He wants me to go where he went and learn what he did.”
“In Alabama?”
“No, everywhere but there. He wants me to start in Western Europe and follow his clues around the world.”
“He traveled?”
“A lot, apparently. I never knew. He was in the army, and after he got out, he traveled… everywhere, basically.”
“Why did no one tell you?”
“They wanted to keep me safe, I guess.
"They wanted to keep the whole family safe after what happened to him.”
“What do you mean, bro. What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it, but it doesn’t matter now anyways. I’m living a different life now.” Flinn never shared much about his past or his family with anyone, not even Raheem. It has always been a mystery. This was the most he had ever shared with him.
“Well, are you going to go?”
“No, I can’t. I have work. It took too much to get here. I can’t just give it away.”
“It’ll still be here when you get back, bro.”
“If only it was that simple.”
“It can be. You have money saved up. Chicago isn’t going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. Plus, you’ve always talked about traveling more. Why don’t you take some time to do it.”
“I suppose, but I like my life here.”
“If you don’t do it now, when will you? You’ve taken a leap before, why not take another one. You’re smart, you’ll land on your feet, bro. Besides, your grandfather thought it was important enough to not only give you his journal, but hide you a letter for you to find when you needed it most. Maybe now is when you needed it most. You’re way too stressed at work anyways, and I can tell you’ve been off for a while now. Perhaps some change could give you what you need.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, when Flinn gets to work, he walked straight to his boss's office. He turned in his letter of resignation.
Two weeks later, he took the red line to the blue line to O’Hare. Journal in hand, he boarded a flight to Dublin.

I had a consult with an orthodontist this morning about my TMJ issues after seeing on here that an ortho appointment is typically the way to start the process of jaw surgery if that's what's needed. They did x-rays and pictures but only did an x-ray from the front in which they said both my jaw joints look normal. He said it could be possible that my TMJ joint does have issues that aren't captured by a front facing x-ray, but that there was basically nothing they could offer other than a mouthguard which may not help. I assumed the orthodontist wouldn't be able to do much but was hoping they would refer me to a maxillofacial surgeon or someone who would be able to help if I did need a different treatment.
However, instead of referring me to maxillofacial surgeon he gave me a referral to a myofunctional therapist which he referred to as a "TMJ specialist". Would it be a waste of time to go with this approach? I can visually see in the mirror and feel with my tongue that my upper jaw is uneven so I'm not sure how physical therapy would help. Or do I just go to another orthodontist for a different consult? My teeth and bite are normal because I had braces as a child, and that's what the orthodontist seemed most concerned about. Since my bite and teeth were normal and there wasn't much they could do they didn't seem interested in the jaw issue. Has anyone on here been to a myofunctional therapist?