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Last time I played it as Sweden, wrote no-neutrality cheat and started conquering neutral countries to get some industry and create an experienced light-panzer mobile divisions from scratch to allow for any major surrounding operations to win battles.
In HoI 3, as a minor nation its better to kinda develop only light tanks from the start and keep them up to date to not divert your research power into medium ones.. Although, in 1941 I had small amount of manpower avaible so I wasn't able to spam new divisions so I've built a licencsed Heavy Tank brigade from Germany because they had 5 speed so I've added some Cavalry and Rocket artillery and created a 5-speed division xD The heavy tank was King Tiger already lol.
I've joined Axis and went on the war with USSR because I messed the game a bit and Germany didnt do Barbarossa so I had to declare war on 1941 before USSR grows even more powerful.
Ofc despite surrounding a bunch of soviet armies with my high IQ operations at first, using a bunch of tricks and traps I thought I'd win the north front but no matter what I've done, they just redirected new and new divisions to fill the gaps and they also often escaped total surroundings, the AI is good in this one and knows when to retreat from the battle :o
Everything was going fine untill I literally ran out of man-power and the European front of my Axis allies froze into a WW-1 style battle.
I had to cheat a bit, first I've added half of Finnish, Norwegian and Estonian generals into my save file because I ran out of generals so I made them colaborate with me, it ended up with Mannerheim serving in a grand Swedish army xD
Also, the AI didnt react well to my conquering neutral countries, they only attacked Ireland XD The rest of them, I covered with a Militia brigade xD
It was fun save-scumming against the British fleet but finally, I ran into the problem - I was running out of resources and once the USA joined, their subs anihilitated my transports. I had to cheat add them but no matter what, it got low and low again.
To the point I knew I just have to cheat and replace them in huge numbers alongside escorts or I'll lose the tiny amount of resources I had from the abroad colonies.
Sooo, I had some issues with the game like naval transports being OP and unrealistic, IRL I heard once it took like a month and a major disorganisation to unload a big troops convoy through a tiny harbor or something like this, in this game you can yeeet your troops with naval transports left and right and do backdoor strikes in hours xD
I kinda wanted to start a new game, but this time just limit myself to conquering the Scandinavia and Baltics, join Axis and speed up to see what would happen xD
If not, I'd have to conquer the Africa first alpngside Italy to secure the resources cause as you saw, the war with USSR is an attrition warfare.
But I already know the vanilia experience, maybe I'll start the Black Ice mod? :P
Oh, I also remember another "realistic" cheat of mine. I've checked and Germany still had 1K manpower left... when I had like 20 left.. I removed some from them and added it into my pool and I saw it as "german voluunters going to the north to support the depleted scandinavian army", I've added like 50 at first but I ran out of them in some normal battles and I think I later had to add even more XD
I remember I also had to protect Germany from strategic bombings with my fighters.
As I remember, tactical bombing didnt do much in this game if you werent focused on its technologies when strategic bombardment destroyed some of the German cities so it was better for me to set my fighters on watch there lol. At least they were able to rebuild the industry and the AI got scared of my fighters or something cause it stopped attacking as much.
I also think I gotta add into the technology of Destroyers, Im not sure Im going to have colonies in this game but still... Last game, I didnt invest into any Destroyers but Cruisers + subs because hey, theyre powerful and can intercept enemy convoys and I think I had some Heavy Cruisers I built.
This time, naval-wise Im only going to research and produce Destroyers to see if modern up-to-date versions can intercept enemy submarines lol.
Europe ⚫️ Ice age and L = 🇺🇸 ⚫️ I wore the ice ice baby shirt when i was ☀️.. goats have climbed up and were put on the “run Way” for modelling.. they on their way to fall to 33rd degree Masonic death.. or try to get into the wombs of European to go back to “KamE”.. two different types of fallen angels. pardon true Moab.. the raisins. “Corinth” twice served.. Europe ⚫️ L = 🇺🇸 ⚫️ proof two night stand my brother had sex with the Nubian twice. No relationships. And 🌞 same for me. Twice is also sign of silver.. but We die on Silver.. this a fight for previous familles life. My brother He is my “bine” same I also take his hits financially (imbalance). Otherwise I’m good but he must stay under that curse or be in excessive. I never left because I am not free. I will soon be released from him pray for me.. my brother not evil, he’s good he just ignorant, low iq , and not steadfast to me but in the lie making my life straight hell. He literally Spiritually retarded .. nor understanding simply not spiritual and more simply a ish ⚪️ = a burden thats what a ish is to take him is pure stupidity.. Literally could cry why tf you want my ish a ish is nothing to want.. 😩😩 seriously.. this is not laban bs this is a God appointed yoke for duty. Who tf would want to claim someone’s bondage to overcome is even more stupid… I’m paired with him young so its all i know the bible speaks on this “better to take the yoke early” (anything done early is better especially if unpleasant) will include the verse. It was because an Israeli 🇮🇱 “Haim shalom” was dating and seeing a girl name “Aquila” before all this in secret. (Remember these names they will be important) After he couldn’t date me.. with one night stand with German ethnicity person and me never happened. The proof is Haim shalom his name means Life peace .. dove 🕊️ = principality .. we worked at 👁️ eye Chic. I was manager.. i never paid nobody manager as in open close the store and make sure i bring in the most money I didnt manage black women get real your not that blessed or fortune to say you served me.. or worked for me .. you never did shit for me .. I’m the asset! The delusion.. Their is no other encounters.. why is this important for me because I am ⚫️AE. And Uriel is symbolic of white crosses that i told you are “bronze” = these are the tall whites. Area 51 some who had fallen.. in a war between old empire (Orion) and the federation.. meaning killed and have been reincarnating over and over again. Til i am where i am now.. dying at peak. If i can finish my unfolding it will all make clear sense to everyone.. thou online I never got to finish from 3day hold. And the pink triangle is not about homosexuality the jews & no men understood. Its about a Female Shaman incarnation and “Uranians” Peace = principality (but Nubia spinx insures it is taken away) and that I can not rest. Its not Elijah i start off a boy or masculine powered so i show up strong and in wisdom for Saturn the opposite of Israel. As men are from Israel and women from Moab .
I wrote this memoir over 3 years ago, after weeks of insomnia and nightmares. I wrote in english, my second language, so my wife won't read it, as she doesn't speak or read english at all. I apologize for any grammar or spelling mishaps. The Molehill The death of the Kid affected us all. I don’t even remember his name, none of us did. The same happened to the Firestarter and to the Forgotten Girl. I think we chose to forget their names, hoping it will keep us somewhat isolated from the whole thing. It didn’t. We all changed. It split our time at the Molehill into two periods: Before the Kids’ Death and After the Kids’ Death. And some of those who came AKD were affected, changed too. But it did much worse things to us, to me and my classmates. It took me17 years to write it all down, hoping I could put the past to rest.
It all began in late February or early March, 1999, some weeks BKD. We were in sixth grade at the Molehill. The Kid and the Firestarter were in fifth. This was the year of the reform, and the last year I talked to the Forgotten Girl.
The Molehill is our own name for the school. Formally it was “Special School and Educational Center for the Blind and Visually Impaired”. In other words it was a boarding school for any handicapped kid that had any eyesight problem, at least back in 1990s. We’ve got bullies, problem kids, kids that needed more specialized help due to their mental problems and deficiencies, as long as they had any sight problem, so other schools would not have to deal with them. The Molehill had preschool, primary school, high school, and middle school too, after the reform, and AKD. Most of us started at preschool. Me, three of the four Kamils, Raphael Noodle. Not the Kid, nor the Firestarter. And not the Forgotten Girl. She joined us, if one can call it “joining” at the first grade. Lucas the White, Kamil Chive and Susan came at the beginning of the 3
rdgrade. And me? I’m the fatso, the nerd, the weakling. And I can’t recall any of their faces. Especially the Kid. We all did our best to forget him.
I still remember the day it all began, even though I don’t remember the exact date. It was cold as hell, and we all, the three classes and the teachers, were on the road trip to the Majdanek Concentration Camp, which is situated on the outskirts of Lublin, where I was born and raised, and where Molehill is. The Nazis built it back when they had their big tour around the Europe. They used it to imprison and murder mostlyJewish peoplefrom the region, but there were also some Ukrainians, Roma, Belarusians and Russians. Those prisoners worked the camp fields to grow beats, if I remember the tour lecture correctly, and when they couldn’t work anymore, they were murdered in gas chambers or shot, and their bodies burned in crematorium. The ashes were used as fertilizer for the fields.
My grandfather, when he was barely more than teenager, and bakers’ apprentice, often passed by the camp on his round delivering bread, buns and other pastries riding a horse cart. Few times he had thrown loafs of bread to the prisoners over the fence, but one day Nazi guards spotted him doing that and wanted to shoot him dead on the spot. My grandfather pissed himself, when they pointed their guns at him. They didn’t do it only because they had no idea, what to do with a horse and a cart full of bread. After that he never did anything like that again, and changed his route to be as far from the fence, as possible. He told this story to my father, who told me.
It’s hard to comprehend the monstrosity of it all when you’re reading it in history book or watching a show on Discovery Channel. But when you visit such a place, when you see it with your own eyes, it affects you sometimes. And sometimes it doesn’t. For some people it’s still a joke or a fiction. Or a boring road trip to a boring place.
As I mentioned, it was cold as hell, there were three classes, the 5
th, the 6
th, and the 7
th. And few teachers. Classes in Molehill are small, usually less than 10 kids. It takes much more effort to teach kids with poor eyesight, or no sight at all, or those that are also mentally deficient. What a nice term, “mentally deficient”, it can cover so many things, and yet not explain any to outsiders. There was Mathew in our class for a time, he was mentally deficient, he had an IQ of rotten turnip, was very aggressive, and our class teacher, an old bitch who panicked and left the class one time in 2
ndgrade when Duckman sneezed his glass eye out, didn’t know how to handle such “mentally deficient” student, so she taped him to the chair one day. After that he left Molehill for some place better suited for him. There was Michael, he was slow too, but not that slow. He became a gardener for the city. There was also Adrian, who had some neurological problems that caused surgeons to cut into his brain. Our math teacher once had shown us that because of this Adrian can’t walk and count aloud at the same time.
I’m wandering off the topic. I’m sorry. AKD we never talked about it, and even writing this down after so many years is hard. But it needs to be written down, just for the record, if nothing else. And there are so many related memories that I’m uncovering like some archaeologist of my own mind. Long forgotten fossils of some good times, and some bad times. Mostly bad times. You don’t know, how much even tiniest things affected you, until you examine them. For example after Duckman sneezed his glass eye out and our teacher ran out of the class, I decided to never replace my dead eye with glass one.
The Duckman was one of the four Kamils, he was our blind classmate. The other one, KB, was almost as nerdy as I, but he had better looks and better personality. And better sight. KW was in the 7
thgrade, he was dormitory roommate of Chive, Lucas the White, The Kid and The Firestarter. He also was blind. Raphael Noodle was the kid who bullied me, but after the reform, when instead of 7
thgrade we all went to the middle school, he moved to different one, where he snapped and beat up some kid so bad, he ended up in juvie. Lucas did whatever Raphael did, so until Raphael left us, we didn’t talked much. Chive was friends with Lucas, but he did nothing. No one talked to me, except for Duckman. No one wanted to hang out with a blind kid, nor with the almost blind one, so we became friends. And I was always his guide on trips. Susan didn’t like me, but she didn’t dislike me either, as the only girl in the class she was by herself for the most time. I don’t count The Forgotten Girl, because she wasn’t really part of our class, but she and I shared a connection from the summer of 1993, where we both were on the same camp for two weeks. As for Michael and Adrian, everyone avoided them due to their unpredictable natures.
So, again, it was a cold day. Overcast, and it was gently snowing. We drove to the Majdanek area on the bus, then had to walk few hundred meters to reach the concentration camp. Anyone could enter the site, but the guided tour with visits to the barracks, museum and crematorium were paid. Because back then both the school and most of kids’ parents didn’t have much money, we were going to look around only, check the monument, the mausoleum and see the buildings from the outside. Fortunately for us there was a tour in progress, so we joined them and pretended to be the part of the group. This way we were able to visit the crematorium building. First was the room where prisoners under supervision of guards stripped the bodies. The guide explained that if a prisoner was killed after arrival, one of the Nazis removed all jewelry that person had, carefully checking the clothing. Then he checked the mouth for golden teeth or crowns, which he subsequently removed with a pair of pliers. Clothes were washed and packed. After this short lecture we entered the furnace room.
The room was dark and gloomy. I don’t remember much, but the atmosphere of that place. It gave me the creeps, like no other place ever before. Back then I didn’t know, why, but now I’m glad we didn’t go to the other buildings. There was a row of brick ovens, reinforced with iron or steel bars between each one and on the corners. The doors were open, and they still held both ashes and metal stretchers that were used to put bodies inside. There was another furnace, a black metal drum, that was fueled with Diesel fuel. Late addition, if I remember correctly. We spent there only few minutes. I felt relieved once we left the building. That’s when the guide discovered we weren’t part of his tour.
We went to look at the mausoleum. It’s a big bowl under a bigger roof. It holds the ashes and remains of the inmates, these were recovered after the camp was liberated and taken over by the Soviets. While walking toward it, we ate our lunches. I’ve got spam between two pieces of bread, with not enough butter. Each of those, who were staying in dormitories, got a tangerine, pack of biscuits and a carton of juice. I ate my dry spam sandwiches before we reached the mausoleum. Our whole group spread around it, some looked inside at the mound of ashes and bones. I did my best to describe it to the Duckman, but didn’t want to linger there. The place was almost as bad as crematorium.
And that’s when The Dead Kid did, what he did, and Firestarter played his part too. But we didn’t know that, not yet.
Raphael Noodle saw it, and he told the teachers. Completely out of character for him, but I think the atmosphere of the place got to him as bad as to me. Me and Lucas the White were nearest, so we both looked into the bowl. There, on the side of the mound were laying a tangerine peel and foil biscuit wrapper. Raphael pointed at The Dead Kid, and said:
“He threw them in, I saw.”.
One of the teachers looked into the bowl, and simply asked TDK:
“Did you?”
“Yes”, he said. “And so what?”
“We’ll talk back in the school, you and me, and the principal.” She looked around. “We can’t let anyone see this.”
“We can get it out” said Lucas. Quickly we organized into three groups. Lucas, Raphael and Chive were at the bowl. Me, Duckman and KW formed a shield for them. Rest of the kids clustered around us. Lucas was skinny and tall for his age, so he went over the bowl edge, Chive and Raphael held his legs, while he grabbed the peel and the wrapper. He told me later that he had to wipe the ashes against the side of the bowl, because he didn’t want to touch them at all, and he held his breath the whole time. I was expecting Raphael to make a prank by loosening his grip, but he didn’t. Again, out of character. After that we moved away quickly. Someone laughed. Much later Lucas told me, who and why. Chive told him, and he learned it the day he became a hero.
We returned to the school without any further incident, I went home, and we all forgot about this incident. Until March 24
th, 1999. The day The Dead Kid died. Or was it 25
th? It was at night after all, night of the first quarter moon. I learned about the events of that night much later. But there were other things that happened AKD, and I’ll tell this story the way I experienced it.
From that day until Easter school was closed. Chive, KW and Lucas the White were under investigation by the police. The Firestarter was not at school for that week because he got sick when he visited his parents for the weekend. The police provided the school with a counselor to help us deal with the death of the Kid, but I think her purpose was to learn more about the Kid, and to find out if anyone of us knows, who might’ve killed him. But they found nothing. No forensic evidences, no traces on KW, Chive, nor Lucas, not counting the blood and ash, of course. Eventually they wrote it down as suicide. Yeah, suicide with particular cruelty. But that I found out later.
By the end of April we all were acting as if nothing happened. Some of us got psychological help, new counselor replaced the police spy, a PTSD specialist. For few years Lucas and Chive couldn’t sleep. KW fared much better, as he saw nothing, a perk of being blind. But he heard it. He heard it all. No one noticed however that the Firestarter was slowly and quietly going nuts.
That April, May and June we barely did any learning, but the teachers didn’t push us. The teachers who were on call that night at the dormitory wing, went on a leave, some until September, some for over a year, and one forever, she retired from teaching. So there were some substitutes just after Easter in the dorm wing. In early June Firestarter started his first fire, outside the cafeteria. He collected some dry branches and leaves from the school grounds, and made quite a bonfire. Fire department had to put it out, because there were no rains for two weeks, and everything was dry. They even had to spray water on the roof of the cafeteria and on nearby trees. Quite a show for us, kids. No one knew, who started the fire, and why. Even Firestarter didn’t know.
June 25
thwas the end of the school year, it was also the last time I talked to the Forgotten Girl. She had cerebral palsy, and because of that she had limited motor function from her waist down. In short she was on wheelchair. Fortunately for her and her mom she wasn’t mentally deficient. Far from it. I’ll always remember her as that shy, timid girl, who spoke with soft, quiet voice. I remember her long, brown hair, slightly rounded cheeks and narrow, pointy chin. I don’t remember much more, with my sight faces are hard to remember. I recognize people by their voices, body shape, clothing and hair. Things that others can see from far. Forgotten Girl was skinny, despite being confined to the wheelchair. None of my classmates remembers her, because none of them really knew her. We spent a summer camp for blind and visually impaired, in the resort hotel named “Blackbird”. It was a three-sided pyramid of concrete in the mountains. There I learned how to move about with white cane, not my idea. There I spent time talking with the Forgotten Girl. We were too young to have really deep or meaningful conversations, but we shared something. Even at that age we both understood, at some level, that we will never be normal, and will never have normal lives. And we could either do our best, or just stop trying and die of despair. That’s why I learned the art of white cane, even though I never used it since. And that’s why she kept herself in shape later and decided to quit our school after sixth grade. She didn’t return for the middle school, nor for the high school. She was home-schooled anyway, but after that year she asked her mom to find a school where she could be in class, even on a wheelchair.
The graduation of 6
thgrade took place at gym, because it was the year of the reform, and we were going to be the first year that would go to the middle school. For most of us it meant staying right where we were. After the ceremony I sat on the bench in the corridor that joined the school wing with the dormitory wing (where also were the preschool, cafeteria and administration). She rolled up to me on her hand-powered wheelchair. She had a white blouse, dark blue skirt, white tights and black shoes. She also put on her finger-less gloves. She had painted nails. She stopped in front of me and just asked:
“Are you holding on, Paul?”
I knew she didn’t ask about the graduation.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I didn’t know him much. You should ask Chives or Lucas.”
“I don’t care about them. I care about you.”
That was a surprise. I didn’t know she even remembered me. I felt guilty, because I didn’t.
“I’m fine. Really. I just have this absurd thought that he died because of tangerine peel.”
“Tell me” she said, so I told her. Then she told me she was not returning to our school because there was no entrance ramp and no elevator between first and second floor, and she really wanted to be in the class, to have real friends, or at least other people her age around.
“So this is the goodbye” I said.
“Paul, we can keep in touch, you know?”
“Like we did since that summer. It won’t happen, not with my parents. And I’m not very good at keeping in touch. Besides you will be moving to another city. And no one can read my handwriting, even I.”
That’s true. I developed good memory because I was unable to read my own notes. So I memorized them instead. She grabbed my hand in between hers.
“Promise me you won’t forget me.”
“I won’t”, but I did anyway, at least for some time. She released my hand and turned toward the school wing. Her mom was coming, with my dad and Duckmans’ dad too, to help with the wheelchair.
“And Paul?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re right about the tangerine peel. And you should trust your hunches more.” Parents reached us. She rolled down to the exit, turned towards the door, and looked at me.
“Good bye, Paul.”
“Good bye” I said. And that was that. I forgot her almost completely. I even forgot her name. I might ask Duckman, he has good memory for names, but I think I like to remember her as the Forgotten Girl. So those few memories of her that I have be like a dream from long time ago.
Next school year started almost normally. New school books, few new classes, few new classmates. But it was AKD. Some of us were regular visitors at counselors’ office. My mother got into her head that soon I will be blind, so she forced me to take course in Braille reading and writing. Look, Ma’, 22 years later and I’m still going without Braille! I learned it in six months, even reading with my fingertips, and six months later I forgot almost everything. Nothing really happened until November, when Chive became a school hero.
The reform caused Molehill to get more money to buy some specialized equipment, like electric Braille typewriters, book magnifiers (a CRT monitor on a stand with movable table underneath, there were some lights and camera in the monitor base, it could magnify anything on the table twenty or more times), some exercise equipment for kids that needed their motor skills and balance improved, and even a giant wooden table with hidden speakers inside for acoustic stimulation of whole body. That one I tried once, with some low frequency sounds. It was quite pleasant and relaxing experience. Anyway they needed place for that equipment, so they moved some administrative functions around, knocked a wall down and made a room for it in the dorm wing. The walls were covered with white plastic panels with wood grain texture. And my Braille teacher, who also did all the rehab work with the kids, hung some dry mistletoe and other plants on the walls. She got them from her house, just to add some more color and texture to the white walls.
One afternoon in late November, it was after classes, Chive and Firestarter were there, doing their homework, or something. Usually the kids that stayed for the week in dorms did their homework either in their rooms or in classrooms after classes. But that day Chive and Firestarter were in the most expensive room in the entire building. Next day Chive told us, what happened and how he became a hero.
“So he finished his homework first. He pulled out a lighter and started playing with it. I asked him “What the hell are you doing?!”, and he just went to that dry mistletoe and flowers thing that hung on the far wall by the window, and said “Check this out.”, and he just flicked his lighter. Just like that. And it went in flames in a second. Just “whoosh” and half of the wall was in flames. I ran toward it, yelling for help. I pushed him aside, grabbed the whole thing with my left hand and went to the nearest window. Opened it and threw it out. I wasn’t thinking, I just did it. Then Mrs. Aldona burst into the room and asked why I was yelling for help. I just told her that he ignited the mistletoe, and I pointed it with my left hand. I was still holding the window with the right one, you know. And then I saw my hand was burned.” He showed us his burned hand, wrapped in gauze and bandage.
Chive was embarrassed by the whole “hero” thing. He said he did what anyone would do. The room was saved, part of the wall had paneling to be replaced and ceiling painted over, but that\s that. The equipment inside was worth a hundred thousand zlotys, or more. Back then it was a serious amount of money.
That night Chive asked Firestarter about that fire. He was asked by teachers and principal too, but he told them he didn’t know why he did what he did. But he told Chive. He told him that ever since The Kid died he can’t stop thinking about fire and ashes. He told him that he started that fire by the cafeteria, and that he started a fire near his home, burning down someones’ meadow. Lighter helped him, a tiny flame to hold in a hand, but that day he just couldn’t control himself, he wanted that mistletoe burning. He told Chive about the road trip, that when we were moving away form mausoleum, after Lucas got that tangerine peel and wrapper out of the ash mound, The Dead Kid spat into the bowl, and that’s why Firestarter laughed. He also told Chive that he was finished in Molehill, the principal told him so, and called his parents. By the end of the week Firestarter was expelled from school.
Three months later he got into his fathers’ car, with a five-liter canister of gasoline. He locked himself in, poured the gasoline all around and over himself and played with his lighter. Suicide with particular cruelty.
Nothing important happened for some time. Then, in March 2001 Evelyn, the girl who joined us at the beginning of middle school, died from undiagnosed diabetes. One day she just collapsed in cafeteria. She was taken to the Children's’ Hospital in Lublin, but she died there after 3 days. She was buried on Majdanek cemetery. We all went to her funeral. Her death really hit me because I had a crush on her.
The middle school time ended with The Test. In theory better scores on it would open doors to better schools, including elite high schools. In practice the test was too easy, at least from my perspective. And we cheated as soon as the observer from Board of Education left the gym to check on Duckman, who took his tests separate from us, so his mechanical Braille typewriter won’t distract us. Nowadays I think the cheating was stupid, but there was pressure on us to perform, as someone heard from somewhere that the budget for schools in the following years will be based on test results. That turned out to be a lie. So the observer left the gym, one of the teachers stood at the door listening for her return, the other two went between our desks and gave us hints. From time to time someone would ask someone else for an answer. I was asked twice by one of the classmates that joined us at the beginning of middle school, I don’t remember his name. Twice I gave him the right answer. I didn’t need to cheat, but I didn’t mind helping others. Besides, the whole scoring system was pointless, pardon the pun, as elite high schools ignored the test results, and checked the grades instead, some even did their own testing.
Most of us stayed at Molehill anyway. Lucas the White had a chance to go to the high school with “arts” profile. That guy had a talent to paint and draw. Unfortunately he decided to stay with what he knew. Chive stayed too, as did KB and Duckman. Duckman had his troubles by then. He could get to elite high school, but that would probably kill him. I stayed in Molehill too, I was sure I couldn’t do normal high school, and elite one would be even harder. I was lazy too, so sue me. Some of us went to trade school for the blind and visually impaired, on Racing street. We got few new students, Eve the Bitch, Vicky, Marlene of thousand wet dreams, and Stan.
Me and Stan didn’t get along very much, at first. It changed when I snapped. I was the fat one, the nerd, the weakling. But one day, when we watched some movie with substitute teacher, Stan provoked me to a fight I knew I’d loose. Which, of course, I did.
I was sitting at desk in front row, Stan was sitting on top of his behind me. And he was kicking back of my chair with his feet. After few minutes of this I turned my head and said:
“Stop it!”
He did, for five seconds. I turned my head again and just glared as hard as one can, when being near-sighted, and with one eye dead and shrunken in the socket. He just kicked my chair again, this time harder. And I snapped. I just had enough of him, of the school, of my parents, of everything and everyone that pissed me off for the past few years. I just stood up, my chair crashing to the floor, and I attacked him. 5 seconds later I was bent over, Stan holding my right hand, arm bent at my back and substitute yelling at us both. I lost the fight, but for the first time in my life I won respect of the class. Or at least of those who cared about such things.
Few weeks later Stan asked me if I’ll be coming to the school dance. These were organized almost every week on Fridays. I didn’t attend them because I can’t really dance, and no girl would even ask me to one. Especially after Eve the Bitch started telling things about me, that’s what I thought at first. I told that to Stan, but he convinced me that I should come anyway.
I did, and boy, what an evening it was. Turned out there was at least one girl, who didn’t mind my bulk, beige shirt, even my awkwardness in social situations. Her name was Carolyn, she was from the third grade of high school, but her grade was under old system, from before reform, so she was a bit over a year older than me. She was my height, with triangular face, long, dark hair, small breasts and nice butt. After few dances some fast, one or two slow and almost intimate, she asked me to go to her dorm room, while her roommates were dancing with their boyfriends. So we sneaked out from the gym that was the dance hall, past the teacher that was keeping an eye on us, into the dorm wing, two flights of stairs up to the Girls’ Floor and into her room, at the far end of the corridor, by the second staircase that was added, when they did the rehab room. We kept lights off, so no one from the gym would see them. I was nervous, my heart pounding, my hands and forehead sweating like crazy. This was it, my first sexual experience with a female, whose name didn’t end with .jpg. I was ready, I was expecting something special. What I got was 10 seconds of awkward silence. And then Lucas the White started laughing and taunting us from the corridor. I don’t remember, what he said, but it made me really, really angry. I unlocked the door, opened it, saw Lucas and Chive. Chive was at least embarrassed, tugging White’s sleeve and saying:
“Let’s go, Lucas. Don’t be an asshole. Let’s go back.”
I grabbed my left wrist with right hand, and used my forearm like a ram. I hit Lucas\s throat, he shielded it with his hands, but I pushed him back towards the opposite wall. I kept one step away and just let most of my considerable mass push at his hands and throat. For him it was like bench pressing 80 kilograms of angry, horny and fat teenager. Lucas saw something in my eye, and he didn’t like it. He wheezed:
“I’m sorry, Paul. I’m sorry. I can’t breathe. I’m sorry.”
Chive tugged at my sleeve this time.
“Let him go, Paul. I’ll take him away. He’s sorry. Let him go.”
After few more seconds I let him go. I just stepped back, dropping my hands. They left us in a hurry. I went back to the room. I couldn’t see her face, but I heard it in her voice.
“I think you should leave too, Paul.”
“I understand.” And I did, she was afraid of me. “Thank you, Eve, you bitch” I thought.
“I’m sorry” Carolyn said.
I just nodded and left the room. I heard voices from the main staircase. A teacher caught Chive and Lucas, and she was coming up with them. I went to the second staircase. I went down to the Boys’ Floor. I exited there and went towards the main staircase, knowing the teacher won’t be there. I went by the room where the Kid died, and I felt it. Felt it bad. My spine turned into icicle, heart pounded, not with desire or adrenaline, but in pure fear. I reached the staircase, and it subsided. But I knew it won’t leave me. I went down, replaced my school sneakers with boots, got my jacket and I left for home.
That night I barely slept, haunted by nightmares full of blood and gore. It was first of many sleepless nights. As for Carolyn, we never talked about that evening, we never again got together or anything. Neither she, nor Chive or Lucas talked about that evening to anyone. And I avoided school dances and parties until the Half-Way Party, that was in the middle of second high school grade. Because high school was shortened to three grades from four, the half-way point was at the end of first term of second grade, instead of summer between second and third grade. Our class teacher asked us one day, if we want to have a party to celebrate it, and we said “yes”. That night we had The Talk.
I got a bottle of vodka for the party. Not for me, I don’t drink strong alcohols. I wanted to talk to Lucas and Chive, because ever since the Carolyn incident things were awkward between us, and it nagged at me. After two or three hours of the party, after the meal that was prepared for us and anyone we invited from other classes, I grabbed Lucas and Chive, and got them to the corridor that connected school wing with dorm wing. There were the big closets where we kept jackets and boots when in school. I also grabbed a bottle of Fanta from the conference room that was converted to a dinning room for us. I pulled the bottle of “Bitter Gastric” (that’s its name, really) and showed it to them.
“Let’s go somewhere and talk” I said.
“Our room” said Lucas.
“No!” I said sharply. “Anywhere but there.”
They stared at me and then Chive suggested:
“Maybe Mrs. Cobs’ classroom?”
We went to the school wing, onto second floor and toward far end. That classroom was next to the Chemistry/physics classroom, which was always locked. Mrs. Cob taught “Religion”. It might seem weird but here religion is in schools. It’s of course catholic religion and no one bothers to ask students their opinion on the matter. We kept lights off, there was plenty of light from the streetlamps and reflected from the snow. We pulled two chairs to the teachers’ desk and sat around it, I took the teachers’ chair. I placed both bottles on the desk, turned towards Lucas and said:
“I’m sorry for choking you, back then.”
“I deserved it, Paul” he said. “I was an asshole.”
“That you were” I nodded.
Lucas opened the vodka, took a swig and passed it to me. I took one too and passed it to Chive. Lucas opened the soda and drank a bit, then I drank a bit more. Last was Chive, again. He asked:
“Did you and Carolyn… Did you do it?”
“Nope” I sighed, “She was scared of me. Eve the Bitch probably talked with her. She is avoiding me.” I took another swig. Alcohol was starting to get to me.
“So what’s with Eve and you?” asked Chive.
“It was at the end of September, first grade. Duckman was in hospital, after his breakdown, and you were sick too. I was passing between Eve and a desk, and I accidentally rubbed against her. She yelled that I was harassing her sexually, again.”
“Were you?”
“No, Lucas! And I told her that I’d rather harass KB than her. And ever since Eve is pissed at me and tells every girl in school that I’m a perv. That’s why all the girls, even those that never talked with me, are avoiding me.”
We all took a swig of “Bitter Gastric”, and then few swigs of Fanta.
“Well” Lucas said, “Vicky doesn’t think you’re a perv. And on one occasion she told Eve to shut the fuck up. Marlene thinks you are, but that’s because you are staring at her whenever she runs.”
“I can’t not stare at her when she runs. It’s like trying to hold a sneeze. One could get blind trying.”
We all laughed at that. Marlene was tall, athletic girl, a blonde with almost white skin, and the most perfect pair of boobies any of us have ever seen. And she loved to run, which had almost hypnotic effect on every male who could see it. And on few females too.
I had another hunch. This was the moment to ask the big question. They would tell me. I also knew that this was my only chance. I took another swig, for the courage, and asked:
“What happened that night, when the Kid died?”
Lucas looked at me.
“You really wanna know?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“When I left Carolyn, I went to your floor by the second staircase. When I was passing by the door to your room, I suddenly felt so scared, so terrified, I still have nightmares. That’s why. I just need to know.”
Lucas took a big swig. Half of glass worth of vodka. Chive said:
“I saw nothing. I hid my head under the pillow and tried not to hear it either. So it’s Lucas’ tale. He saw it all.”
“You won’t believe me, Paul, but this is the honest truth.”
Chive got up, went toward the back of the classroom, he knelt by the bookcase with cabinets, where Mrs. Cob kept all the heavy, Braille books, maps and other stuff. He pushed his hand between it and the wall. There was small space hidden by the radiator and window sill. He pulled a small backpack from there. And from the backpack he pulled another bottle, this one unmarked.
“Holy water, from home” he said and laughed nervously. “We will need it.”
We all took a swig, emptying my bottle and then Lucas began.
“I don’t know, what woke us. I think it was his wheezing. The room was so cold that for a moment I thought the windows were open. But no. The Kid was just hanging in the air above his bed. Levitating, you know. He was belly down, and something was falling from his mouth. That’s when Kamil dived under the pillow, and KW asked, what’s going on and why it’s so cold. Then I saw a small mound of the stuff on the bed. It was ash. Like those ashes at the camp. Then something threw him against the ceiling. He was stuck there for a few seconds, then flew across the room, and hit the wall above KWs’ bed, legs first. They broke, like twigs. Then we started screaming, and he flew again, this time hitting wall above his bed, face first. Then he hit his bed, still puking ash, but his face was all bloody and messed up. Then he flew toward the closet, but his neck caught on one of the arms of the ceiling lamp, and he fell to the ground with the lamp. Then it all stopped and teachers came in. And we were still screaming.”
We opened the second bottle, turned out that Holy Water means a nice moonshine. Lucas continued.
“Teachers had flashlights, you know, to check on us at night. They saw the Kid on the floor, covered in blood and ash, one of them just fainted, the other looked at us and told us to stop screaming. Someone called for the ambulance and they came in, checked him out, and then the police came and they arrested us.”
“At first they thought that we killed him, but there was no evidence on us. And we told them what happened. KW and Chive only heard it, and that’s what they said. They didn’t believe us. After that they thought it was some kind of disorder that forces you to eat stuff that’s inedible.”
“Pica” I said.
“Yes, that. But we told them he never did anything line that and he hadn’t left the school ever since that road trip to Majdanek. And none of us would give him ash. Why would we? Finally they closed the case.”
“My parents have a friend in police” added Chive. “They asked him about this, when we were released. Few days later he told them that some ash disappeared from the mound at the mausoleum that night. They thought some occult or neonazi nuts did it. But the ash from our room matched the mound. And the Kid was full of it. Stomach, guts, lungs.”
“Your parents told you that?”
“No, Paul. I was eavesdropping on their conversation. That scared me more than that night.”
We drank some more. I felt seriously drunk. And I had another hunch. I told them, and we did it. We took another bottle of Chibes’ family moonshine from the stash, we went to their room, and we burned it down to the bare concrete. I still don’t know how the entire building didn’t caught on fire.Someone noticed the fire and used extinguisher on the door, containing it inside, until fire brigade came and put it out from the
outside.No one discovered it was us. We just poured the alcohol all over the floor and furniture, dropped a burning match, locked the door and went back to the party, where we promptly fell asleep by the wall, completely wasted. They had to carry us out, when fire alarm was tripped.
When I visited that room after it was renovated, I felt nothing, absolutely nothing. Even the most epic hangover ever and the wrath of my mother were worth it.I don’t know, why I felt what I felt near that room and at the Majdanek concentration camp. I think, however, that when the Kid died, something of him stayed behind. His pain and suffering was imprinted on the room. And why he died? I believe he was too disrespectful to the dead at the camp. We didn’t want to visit that place, and for most of us it was a boring field trip. And when he did what he did, we were more concerned with not getting caught, than with the respect for the dead. Especially considering how many of them were murdered at that place.
I still have those hunches and really bad dreams. I think I’m just sensitive to this stuff.And there were few more times when I felt something, and sometimes I tried to act. Neither Lucas, Chive, KW, nor any of their roommates felt anything particular in that room. It was just me. And maybe the Forgotten Girlwould have felt something there, too.I think she also had hunches.
I look back on life and realize how bad I was as a person because I was either too neurodivergent to understand how things work and/or didn't have much empathy probably due to it declining from being picked on so much growing up. I probably still am a bad person in some ways.
I'd be unintentionally holding somebody back from her dreams. If I actually could be with somebody I think she'd be more comfortable or at least I'd be more comfortable if I had the stability to give her a good life.
It's probably wrong for me to even try to date. She'd probably be embarrassed to be seen with me. Doesn't help that I'm ugly.
Perhaps one day, far in the future, a person can transplant their consciousness into a new synthetically grown body. If that existed then I could become tall and incredibly handsome.
One day there won't be neurological impairments. Scientists will find what causes it and free people from it. Far, far in the future.
Idk if there is a God or not but I let him down because I know he absolutely hates the shit out of me. And he's right for it. I wish with all my heart that he would strike me in the head with a lightning bolt, but I guess I'm not even worth that.
But that's life for you. Your destiny is entirely dependent on the cards you are dealt at birth.
For example: super smart kids get scholarships, grants, etc. Then move onto get high paying jobs.
But those born with a lower IQ are doomed to work dead-end soul crushing jobs like retail or factories. (My end of the bargain.)
Maybe they'll learn a trade and do okay, but it's no guarantee.
Beautiful people get the advantage of the halo effect, get to party, etc.
Ugly folk like myself end up getting cast away to the shadows.
Those born into a first world country might make it past 50.
Kids born in the Gaza strip well... you know.
But someday, I believe that the cards we are dealt at birth don't have to dictate a person's life. I don't know how exactly this would be possible, but far in the future I think it will be possible.
Perhaps one day, a person's entire brain can be analyzed and a computer will tell that person exactly what the problem is.
I was born to early. That is the problem with me. That was the card I was dealt. To be born in the later dark ages where the technology to make things right doesn't exist yet.
How long until this technology exists? I'll probably be long dead. An unrecorded blip in Earth's history, no more significance than a bug on the ground that was eaten by a passing crow. Perhaps that's the fate of most of us one day, just another grain of sand in the soul dunes of hell.
The people defending Drake have to be European or ultra far left weirdos.
Of course texting a minor is weird. If you don’t see anything wrong with an adult hanging out with a minor, you aren’t aware of social taboos or lack social iq. Our society is designed so that certain people hang out with certain people
In middle school , kids from different grades know not to talk to eachother. In highschool you learn to only date kids in your grade.
Also, people say bro the age of consent is 17. See this is really concerning. If you’re a man and aren’t verifying the ages of girls you talk to online there is something wrong with you. That’s not even something that has to be said. How do you live in America and not intuitively know this?. Plus , kissing random people to begin with is weird. And Drake bro if you aren’t 100 percent sure that a fan is 18 why risk kissing them??? People are making loop hole arguments and the consequences of this is a race to the bottom. In your world, people can have countdowns to a girl turning 16 and say “hey it’s legal”. The age of consent should be a minimum standard . If you happen to like someone and they happen to be younger than you that’s one thing. But going out of your way to hang out with younger people is weird .
Maybe this is a generational thing.. Previous generations it was ok for huge age gaps but I’m pretty sure we’re evolved on that as a society . Obviously power imbalance plays a role .and on top of that we have tinder where you can verify ages so huge age gaps are even less of an excuse
These arguments I’m seeing are just wild and creepy bro.
Nakakadisappoint pala kapag yong iniexpect mong babati ng birthday mo ay hindi ka binati on your special day. This is the second time he never greeted me despite giving hints that today is my fucking day kahit nothing special about my day naman and in hopes he will somehow make it special by sending “happy birthday, bitch!” haha. Expected ko naman na he don’t care about such special days even for himself.
Punyetang fling thing to! tanginang pagmamahal to! hahahaha birthday na birthday umiiyak sa maliit na bagay. Imbis tamod ang pinapahid, luhang ang kapalit. At least give me a fucking reason as to why you don’t do simple things to someone you care to make them feel special? Or so I thought that you cared? So you lied just to pass time when you needed to.
Happy birthday sa mga kapwa ko nanunuwag na birthday din ngayon! Mabuhay tayo hangga’t gusto natin. Sa inyo na lang ako manlilimos ng pagmamahal at atensyon. haha
Edit: Thank you sa lahat ng mga bumati! I am beyond flattered sa mga greetings! I enjoyed my day naman bcoz of you guys! and to those who said “fling lang” yep i know my boundaries and good for you na concrete ang walls niyo not to get hurt but yea I will consider all of your advices for my own good. I don’t dwell with it but rather I completely understand the line between us. It is beyond fling and not a one time thing. We already talked the cycle between us and both agreed. May mga personal issues lang na need kami isettle most importantly him being a breadwinner, achieving his dreams, and climbing the academic ladder for advancement. And on my part, I am also doing my part to go farther sa life before magkajowa. It will make the rant longer lol and too complex to tell. I hope you all do understand what I am trying to say. However, I am not yet sure if after achieving those, typical tanong “ako pa rin kaya?” something like that. Something we aren’t sure in the foreseeable future but we hope. Coz I already decided to end up with him if ako iyong nakikita at the end of that tunnel (shet). My only problem with him ay ang mababang EQ niya at nasobrahan siya sa IQ kaya siguro ganon. I already communicated and told to him about his EQ pero nasa sa kanya na iyon kung paano niya aayusin, ayoko siyang kontrolin. I hope hindi niya mabasa ito pero I doubt dahil naka join siya dito haha. Acknowledged that it was my fault for not communicating this to him but what’s the point of his greetings if coerced. I was just expecting na he knew my bday since we have been dating for almost 2 years. Pero yeah sige. Don’t assume unless otherwise stated ika nga.
Well, anyway, I’m all good and MARAMING SALAMAT SA MGA BUMATI AT BABATI PA! <3