Skull pain when sitting

Look, I'm not a huge Hip-Hop head but I've been hooked by this beef since Like That came out. Back then, when MMTBS was released my love to Hip-Hop got reignited after being left unimpressed by most other contemporary rap artists. I don't fuck with all that bling bling, booze and bitches talk but MMTBS threw me back to the time MBDTF came out (I was like 14 and bumping Kanye, Kid Cudi, Black Eyed Peas, Outkast) so I naturally became a Kdot fan (shame on me on me for not listening to his discography earlier).
I still believe he is the best rapper of our time. Great lyricist, great flow, very versatile. I believe he won the beef by proving he is a rapper better than Drake. But what did it cost?
I've seen Kdots win being called pyrrhic. After looking up the definition I can see why. Was it really necessary to destroy Drake in this fashion? People say he will be fine, keep a large fanbase, not face being cancelled big time but how I see it he got absolutely assasinated by Kdot saying Drake is a sick man with sick thoughts, a pedophile that should die. Euphoria is a perfect disstrack: full of wordplays, display of writing skills, symbolic but not too vague, direct but with a warning undertone saying "don't come closer". MTG is Kenny crashing out. It's a psychoanalytical portrait of Drakes family with very very wild accusations and a strong effect on ones emotions upon listening. Not Like Us is just Kdot dancing on Drakes grave.
What does Kenny actually know tho? I ask this because I won't rule out he only knows as much as we do: Hollywood gossip, Millie Bobby Brown, Bakas case...maybe some additional insider information of Drakes hook up behavior. But not much! I strongly assume tho he knows that 1) music is very powerful and can move mountains 2) - if not before already - after his last album he is seen as an honest soul, introspective, truth seeking with almost prophetic attributes 3) Art can allow itself to be stretching or even deceiving truth. Being a product of phantasy is somewhat arts nature as opposed to say a police protocol.
With these points in mind Kdot should have known shit will go down after releasing the tracks. He should have known lots of people take him serious and will believe him. He should have known we want paper for what he says because it's about children and justice. But how can we believe him if all we have is the 17yo fan, the Millie Bobby Brown story, blind items and a bunch of wild theories? I want to use this moment to call out everyone taking theories for granted and not thinking critically. It's our duty to never rule out the possibility of assumptions being wrong and a lot of people here don't seem to care. Trust me when I say I spent way too much time investigating and I've seen a lot. I can believe Drake luring girls over Tinder. I can believe he has shady companys. But not everything is connected and I will also say for me it's a big difference if he has consensual sex with teens that he lured by being this impressive famous rapper or if he literally abused prebuscent children (or dogs).
I'm trying to find the point here but I guess what I want to ask you guys is if you think Kdot knows more than we do or if he let his phantasy create the most damning and vile story about drake for the artistic goal of making the most impactful disstrack possible? Cuz if it's the second option...I don't know...you can't just call someone a children trafficking pedophile when you don't exactly know that AND also incorporate so much talk about speaking truth, following morals being always faithful. I say that because horrible things really happen to people that get abused and to use this fact to destroy someones reputation doesn't sit right with me.
Kdot will have to answer what he really knows at one point. Before that I'm somewhat disturbed in my positive perception of him. He doesn't play the social media game like Drake does but this mofo can't tell me he couldn't anticipate how everyone will try to find evidence for his claims.
Kendrick is not perfect he knows that and doesn't claim to be. But it would only be right to see Drakes facettes too. He is not the devil. I'm sure he is not a thoroughly evil person. He has regrets and pain too. You could probably hang with him at times. He might be awful at times but alright at other times. Like everyone. I study psychology so I try to be fair and critical and I gotta say Drakes alleged psychopath intuition and narcissism doesn't seem that much out of the ordinary. I've seen worse.
How you all feel?
Additional context: I know most theories so don't assume I just don't know enough. I just try to always apply critical thinking.

I posted a few days ago about my back pain- and it has significantly worsened. I can't bend over without feeling nauseous from how intense the pain is. Even resting, moving as little as humanly possible, it hurts so bad. I tried stretching and some PT stuff on my own in attempt to help my pain a little, but it got so much worse. Yesterday, it just hurt to bend down. Today? Physically cannot force myself to even try, I don't think I've ever had that happen. I just mentally cannot make myself. I could barely propel my wheelchair and my crutches were more excruciating than just walking 1 mm per second without them. I can only scoot while walking, if I lift up my legs more than going up a step would, it hurts horribly. I have had a horrendous depression room for awhile, so I've had to painstakingly pick up my stuff and move it over so I don't face plant trying to get in. I can't even sit on the floor. The floor has always been the most comfortable place for me. I can't get up off the floor. I knew this was probably going to happen, but it just happened so fast. I asked my parental to call the orthopedic doctor as soon as she can, but of course, "they're just gonna do xrays again and say you're fine" and "we need to wait for PT before the MRI" (she hasn't even attempted to call them) I'm just. If this doesn't get better with resting as much as I can, I think I might need to go to the ER. Something has to have slipped or ruptured somewhere. The ER can't do much, unfortunately, so it'd be an absolute last case scenario, but sitting here unable to take any pain meds (Mast cell issues) crying will do no better, and the ER tends to treat injuries better than chronic illness stuff. My cyst pain has been really bad too, but not really worsened, just still there. Only difference is that it's constant now. I just wanna go to the fucking doctor man. I don't wanna have to argue to not be neglected, I wish services fucking took this seriously when I was a kid because majority of my health issues only got this bad due to being unable to access medical care, by the choice of my gaurdians. I don't want more organ damage than I already have from this shit.

It is a man, old and scraggy. He wears a jacket that lays over the red plaid button shirt and blue jeans. He wears an old baseball cap and a pair of glasses. He yelled something to Dad, holding his hands up like he was pleading, although we couldn’t hear it over the truck engine. They talked, but we couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Hey, what are they saying”, I asked, while petting Matt’s hair, calming him. The old man then put his hands down and came close to Dad in a cautious way. They seem to start having some kind of conversation.
“I don’t really know, hopefully, something good”, Mom answered. They talked for a little while, with daylight beginning to disappear, giving us a sense of dread, and making me more worried about what weird creature was going to show up. Eventually, the old man turned and pointed toward what I think is the northeast. They then shook hands and walked back to their respective vehicles. “What’s going on”, Mom asked as Dad got into the truck.
“Well, our new friend here invited us to dinner at his farm”, Dad replied.
“Does he have supplies?”
“Well, he says has supplies for us to make the journey.”
“Should we even trust him? We just met h-”
“Relax, he’s just an old man, living alone at his farm, feeding his cows. What could go wrong”, Dad countered. The old man then entered the truck that was running and drove slowly, expecting us to follow him.
“Alrighty then, but we have to be cautious”, Mom said, with her suspicions of the old man. We then followed the old truck along the dark, frozen road. It just feels like something is going to show up along the road, but nothing happened. Matt did eventually stop crying, but he is still upset about the Joe escape thing.
“Where are we going”, Matt lamented, with the prior series of events in mind.
“I guess somebody is offering us dinner”, I answered.
“Why can’t we just go home?”
“It’s only going to be a stop, like a hotel. After that, we go to our new home, I guess”, I said, taking another look at Matt and cradling to comfort him. “It’s going to be okay.” I stared out into the darkness. I looked to the sky from the window and I faintly saw something in the clear, dark sky, lit up by the waning moon. They were brilliant, green auroras that defy the bright moon, dancing across the sky like ribbons in the wind. The truck eventually took a right-hand turn into another road, with us following suit. I can see a bright, orange light emerging from a patch of tree. When we passed by, it seemed it was a house, at a farm, burning in a massive flame.
“I guess those people aren’t so, uh, lucky”, Dad said, taking a quick look at it before looking at the road. Passing by, we went on and continued to follow the old man’s truck. We passed onto another intersection until he turned into a driveway to what I believe to be his farm. Going into the driveway, I can see an old house, along with a dilapidated farm further away, barely visible by the headlights. The old man parked by the house, where there were a few other trucks there. We parked alongside the truck and we got out into the cold, near-silent night.
“Welcome to sanctuary, where all are welcome”, the old man bellowed. This is the first time I’ve heard his voice. Matt was the last to get out of the truck, slowly and clumsily climbing out of the truck.
“What’s your name”, my Mom politely asked the old man.
“Oh, I guess your husband didn’t tell ya. My name is Steven, but you can call me Steve”, the old man said, with some crackling in his voice. “I am very proud to host a dinner for you and your family”, he continued. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Oh, my name is Janice”, Mom replied, quite pleased at his politeness.
“Hello, Janice, and what are their names”, Steven asked, pointing to me and Matt.
“That’s my daughter Kate and my son Matt”, Dad said to Mom.
“Oh, what wonderful names for a couple of beautiful children you have”, Steve grinned. “Come, it is dangerous out here.” We followed him to the house, which looked like it had seen better days. He entered through the double-set door, the first a solid door and a screen door behind. Entering the house, it smelled like what you’d expect, old man. Looking onto the floor is made of glossy wood and walls with cracks, likely caused by the earthquake. It is dark in there, lit by candlelight from many candles, yet it’s fairly warm here. I don’t know why we went into the house, but Dad was right, Steve is just a lonely, old man. Matter of fact, there seems to be nothing wrong here, other than the cracks in the walls. “Sorry, the power went out. Had to resort to the candles. I knew my wife would come in handy”, Steve explained as he took his coat off. “Oh, supper will be ready right away. Had to use the fireplace to cook. Also, can you take your boots off?” We took our boots and set them aside. We went into what seemed to be a living room, with dusty old-style furniture.
“So, where do we sit”, Mom asked.
“Oh, well, follow me”, Steve commanded, leading us to the dining room, with a long, wooden table and six wooden chairs, along with their corresponding old-fashioned plates, glasses and cutlery, lit up in the candlelight. We noticed that everything on the table was covered in a thin veil of dust. “My apologies, the recent shocks dropped a bit of dust on the table”, he explained as he noticed us looking at the plates and moved into another room nearby. “Take your seats if you like.” We all settled onto the chairs, and blew off our plates of the dust settled there.
“When will we eat”, Matt impatiently said.
“Once Steve comes out with the food”, Mom answered. Matt sat there with a tired look on his face. Dad seemed to be in a better mood than before and it looked like he wanted to start a conversation.
“Hey, should we talk about something”, Dad asked. I then see Steve with a bowl and a silver plate.
“Here we go, may not be much, but at least it’ll fulfil the soul”, Steve said, smiling when he served us mashed potatoes and meatloaf. “So, shall we pray?” That came unexpectedly, as we are not too religious, but we were in his house and gave us shelter and food.
“Sure, we can do that”, Mom said and we all bowed our heads and put our hands together. Steve cleared his throat
“Thank you, Lord, for this good food to feed the soul in these hard times. I shall pray, in the name of the Lord and Jesus Christ, that these hard times shall be over, so we can get on with our lives. Amen.” We raised our heads and grabbed whatever food there was onto our plates. “Oh, there’s no gravy, so we have to deal with bare potaters and meatloaf.”
“Oh, not to worry. Thank you for the food”, Dad thanked Steve. We began to eat the food once we got it sorted.
“So, what brings you here”, Steve asked.
“Well, there is an evacuation order in effect for this area, so we had to go to Regina”, Dad explained, with Steve taking in every word. “So, we came from Strasbourg, we tried going south towards Regina, but we hit an obstacle in the way and we had to take another route, leading us here.”
“And we encountered a few odd things along the way”, Mom added.
“Huh, interesting. What do you guys think is going on”, Steve inquired.
“By the things we saw, we have no idea. Dinosaurs, devil dogs, hell pigs, the whole deal. I shouldn’t forget the earthquake. They told us a pipeline leak caused by the earthquake”, Dad clarified to Steve.
“Hmm… is that so”, Steve wondered. “Wonder what I think is happening? The Rapture is happening. Do you know how the Bible tells us of the end times? Good people sent to be with God and his kingdom, the rest here to suffer the Hell unleashed by Satan.” By this point, he was beginning to rant, but we couldn't stop it as we all began to feel tired and powerless. “So, the Devil will send his demons in the form of these illusions so that they can torment the sinners. It is happening, it is-” Steve manically continued as I drew towards blackness and his voice becoming less coherent. My vision is now all black.
I saw those same lights, but more rapidly than before. I then emerged onto the same clear sky, but something felt different. I can smell something in the air. I can smell what seems to be chemicals in the air. Looking down, I was terrified. Dark, grey rock in the shape of ropes and folds, similar to those I saw of lava flows on a volcano in pictures. This went on as far as the eye could see. I can see no tree this time, just the cooled lava everywhere. I then walked, feeling every bump and crag. I thought I walked forever until I heard a rumbling sound and woke up.
I am in total darkness. It is cold and it smells like cow manure. I tried to move my hand, but it seemed to be bonded behind my back by a rope. I tried to move my feet, but they were also bound by rope to the legs I tried to speak, only to realise my mouth was agape by a cloth in my mouth. I heard shuffling nearby but I could not see. It was then shone in light when Steve entered the door, holding a candle, revealing all of us in the same situation. I then can see what we are in. We are in that same wooden dilapidated barn we saw earlier and seems to be more damaged than the house, wood creaking can be heard.
“These sedatives are more effective than I thought. Maybe I should use them more often”, Steve smoothly explained, like he’s some kind of agent and began pacing. “Wonder why you are here? Well, I wondered the same thing to myself, why didn’t God take me to his heaven? When I first heard of the government telling us of those evacuation plans, I thought it was that, a leaking pipe. I began to notice things I couldn’t believe myself, at least at first. Earthquakes, weird creatures showing up, people disappearing, the whole spiel. I connected the dots. The Rapture is happening, for sure, but why me? Why was I the one left here on this Earth”, Steve calmly ranted, pacing around the barn, but it seemed to sound crazier and angrier the more he paced. “I thought I had lost my way. I’ve been unfaithful to God and his son. But, I realised that God always has a plan and he left me on this Earth to serve a purpose. I wondered what my purpose was until I had a moment.” He then stopped in place and calmed down. He turned to look at Mom with accusing yet crazed eyes.
“I’m supposed to keep the sinners here in line, to earn a place in God’s kingdom, or suffer in Hell. I know you are a sweet woman, Janice, but your treachery with Satan is over and I am going to do what’s right.” Mom then looked at all of us, with assuring eyes like that of an innocent yet caring mother we all know knew. I began crying and trying to speak through the cloth, but I was helpless to watch by. “Forgive me, Father, for what I am going to do.” He then pulled a knife from his pocket and plunged it into Mom’s neck with no mercy. I looked away once he did that, trembling, with tears pouring out and my vision glazed and I fell limp. I could see my brother tearing up, but he did not look away. I can hear Dad behind me, with his screams of agony and anger covered by the cloth. It felt like I was in slow motion, taking in every moment.
I then heard the chair, screeching as Steve dragged the chair containing Mom’s lifeless body towards the door, leaving behind a trail of blood. I couldn’t bear to see my mother like this. I shut my eyes very hard and hoped it would go away. The door then shut, leaving us alone with a candle, fearing what would come next. I stared at the candle, seeing it dance in the flames like a woman dancing in the darkness. Is this how it’ll end, I thought. End up dying to this sick man? My Mom was killed in front of me. I sobbed with that thought, then I began to think about the inevitable death of me. I hope there’s something after I die. Maybe I’ll see Mom again.
It was silent for a while, nearly no sound other than our moans. Dad seems to be fidgeting at the back of his chair, rocking it slowly. Looking past him, I shuddered at the glistening pool of blood, where Mom was last alive, could be my fate. I then see Dad release his arms from the back of the chair and remove the cloth from his mouth. He silently stood up and bent down to untie his legs from the chair legs. He then went to me and removed my cloth.
“H-h-how did you do that”, I silently wept, fearing that Steve would show up at the door and kill us all.
“My binding is loose. The old man probably took a liking to me”, Dad whispered. “I should remove your binds.” He untied them, releasing me, doing the same for Matt. “Now, we need to be quiet.” We then walked, quietly, along the painfully creaking wood in the near dark, following the blood trail, glistening in the candlelight. We cringed and dreaded each sound we made and watched the door in case it began to creak open. A few silent steps later, we made it to the door and we slowly opened it so as not to make any noise. What was revealed to us is nothing new, other than the blood trail continuing in the snow directing towards the back of the barn. “Okay, Kate, Matt, you guys run to the truck.”
“What about you”, I sobbed.
“Don’t worry about me”, Dad responded, giving me his keys and forcing them into my hand. “If I’m not back in a few minutes, leave. Don’t look back, take care of your brother, okay? I love you, no matter what happens.” He then kissed me on the head and ran to follow the blood trail. We quickly walked towards the black truck, stranded there for maybe hours. Getting closer, freedom is getting closer. When we got to a fair distance to the truck, I heard footsteps behind me and, the next thing I knew, I was knocked over to the ground into the hard snow on my face. A hand turned me over to give me a glimpse of a crazed Steve, his eyes wilder than before.
“Oh, yes, trying to escape”, he bragged. I looked at him, frozen in fear, like a deer in headlights and he caressed my face with his bloodied blade. “You do have a pretty face, but I’m afraid you are just one of Satan's creations, made to pull me to lust.” He then raised his knife in the air when a familiar side emerged, out of the blue.
Joe came and bit him in the arm that was holding the knife. Steve screamed in agony the moment he realised what happened. He shook Joe off and stood up to stand his ground. I stood up as Joe hissed and walked around the crazed being he wounded, not in fear but in aggressiveness. “Is this one of your pets, demon”, Steve screamed as Joe came in for another attack, but Steve countered that with a slash to the snout. Joe then ran away, whining, into the darkness. This sequence of events gave me the chance to enter the truck on the driver’s side. I had some trouble starting it, besides this is my first time driving a truck.
Steve menacelily walked towards the when Dad came barreling and tackled him to the ground. Dad was on top when he went limp. I finally put the keys in the engine turned it on and backed out, with memory serving me the instructions on such a vehicle. Steve pushed Dad’s body and stood up, but by that time, we left the farm.
“Turn back, we have to get Dad”, Matt cried, but I was very emotional, accepting what happened. I felt that, without my parents, I feel… useless.
“Dad’s dead”, I screamed at Matt and he began gagging uncontrollably in tears. I began to feel sorry for him. “Sorry, I, I don’t know.”
“It’s okay”, Matt sniffled. “I guess Mom and Dad are dead anyways.” It was silence for a few more minutes, tears welling in our eyes.
“Hey, our parents are in a better place”, I said, trying to make the situation positive.
“But we are stuck here, without them? Don’t we deserve to go to a better place?”
“Don’t say that”, I huffed and I paused for a bit. “I know we are in the, uh, right place now. Let me tell you something, once we get to Regina, I will take care of you, no matter what life throws at us.”
“What about Joe”, Matt asked.
“He’ll be fine. He probably found his girlfriend already.”
“Hey, don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“I, uh, I don’t have one. That I know of”, I spoke, bringing me back to Sam, remembering that she’s the only friend that I ever knew, and I left her. Without her, I felt alone, no one would ever relate. I began to tear up. “I don’t have any friends. I am alone,” I sobbed.
“What do you mean? I’m your brother!” I looked at Matt, and smiled, happy that he acknowledged that we were in this together.
“Thank you”, I thanked him. I slowly stopped on the road, just to hug Matt hard, crying my eyes out. We then heard what sounded like an elephant in front of us. We looked up to see a walking snow-covered brown fur wall with four pillar-like legs in front of us. Its curved tusks gleaned in the light and the eyes reflected in the light. The furry trunk waved around like a searching snake from a tree. We both knew what it was.
“Hey, look at that, a woolly mammoth”, Matt said, excitement running through him. At this point, we weren’t surprised.
“Yep, that is a woolly mammoth”, I added. The mammoth turned to us on the road, seemingly confused about where it was. It looked at our truck and seemed to growl, like an elephant. We are starting to realise this thing is becoming aggressive.
“Uh, should we move”, Matt asked. I remembered hearing something about standing your ground in case of an encounter with an elephant. I hoped it would work for a bigger, furrier version of one.
“No, we have to stand our ground.”
“But, it’ll attack u-”
“Trust me!” I then honked my horn and it backed up. It then rushed, then stopped, a mock charge. Eventually, it moved out of the road, disappearing into the darkness. We sighed in relief.
“That was close”, Matt sighed. I then continued to drive in the night, headlights leading the way. The road is bumpy, as noticed by every ditch and peak we hit, but surprisingly, Matt was fast asleep. I began to get comfortable driving and used to the road by that point. It was silent for a while until we hit a smaller intersection. That is when the truck shut down, completely and stopped. I tried the gas many times but with no effect. There is no light, nothing. It is near-darkness here, shone only by the moonlight.
“Shit”, I yelled, desperate to turn the truck on without much success. Matt woke up, confused.
“What happened”, he yawned.
“The truck turned itself off. I can’t get it back on”, I fretted and at that moment, Matt was just as panicked as I am.
“Why?”
“I-I don’t know. One moment, we were driving, another it just-”, I quavered, when I heard something rustle in the distance. We stood still, hoping whatever it was didn’t find us. I looked around, hoping to see something in the moonlight. I then see a long, walking animal. It looked like some sort of alligator at first, except for a dinosaur-like head. Once I strained my eyes to the darkness, my fear levels rose as I could see it walk on its hind limbs, with its forelimbs dangling nearly touching the ground.
It was wandering around on the road when I heard a near-crocodilian growl at Matt’s side of the truck. Another of those creatures appeared, seemingly looking into the window like a hungry bear, giving us a chance to see its scaly head. Its exposed alligator teeth gleaned in the light like knives, but more terrifying was the eye. Its serpentine pupil shone brilliantly in the light like eyes in the dark. It then ducked down, gave a hiss, and moved towards the other one. A few more showed up and formed a group.
“What should we do”, Matt asked. “Should we stay?” I looked around, hoping for another way to escape them without them noticing. I further strained my eyes and mentally mapped out the area. There is a cemetery on my right-hand side, a grain bin storage yard on my left and a series of trailers on the other side of the highway, which is ahead of us, from the storage area. There, I see a series of white, storage buildings, something we can go to and wait it out inside.
“Okay, so slowly open the door”, I instructed Matt. The click of the doors opening cringed us. We looked at the group, but there was no response from them. We then, as slowly as we could, opened the door and stepped out. Still no response. Matt then quietly ran to the other side, towards me. “Okay, we are going into the storage yard and go to the other entrance”, I said, pointing to the other right-hand corner. I wanted to get as far away from these things as possible before making a safe crossing. “Then, we cross the highway on the other side, run into the buildings and stay there for the night. Are you ready?”
“I guess”, he whispered, looking at me in fearful doubt.
“We are going to do this”, I whispered back. We then silently ran over, having to rely on our night-adapted eyes, to the corner, walking past the bins. We made it and nothing behind us so far. “We’re good so far.” We then crossed the road and noticed nothing. We noticed a tanker truck, leaking some sort of fluid across the road. I easily recognized it as fuel, based on its distinctive, sickly smell. I wouldn’t be worried about it if it weren’t for a collapsed light pole that is somehow still flickering with electricity near the area where the fuel would be flowing. We quickly avoided the fluid when I froze to see the group of the walking alligators, running towards us. “Run!” Matt tried to run, but one of those things appeared and clamped its jaws at the back of his neck. He yelped in pain and it took him down to the ground. “Matt”, I yelled, helplessly watching as the creature tore into him.
Matt reached out his arm before the others came to him, then a flash of fire came. At this point, I knew what happened, but I couldn’t even think before it exploded. It blew me towards the building, far away. I was knocked out for a few seconds before I regained consciousness, groaning in pain on the ice. I noticed something especially painful just below my chest. I reached towards the area with my hand. I pressed on it, more painful than ever and raised my hand, only to see blood, brightened by the fire. I realised I was wounded, maybe by shrapnel made by the explosion.
I looked toward where the truck was and all I saw was a blaze. Those things weren’t there, at least. I also noticed something else, too, there’s no Matt. I tried to look around for something, some sort of sign of my brother within the fire, but I saw none. I then wept, realising I had failed. I have failed to keep him safe. I have failed to give him a better life. I failed him as a sister. I could’ve done better. The thoughts poured in as tears glazed my eyes. At that moment, I failed to look around me.
I noticed a dark thing beside the blaze. I thought it was Matt, preparing to greet him back, even though I knew he couldn’t survive the explosion. The image became clearer and clearer as I noticed it was one of the walking crocs that, glazed by the fire, was coming towards me.
“Just kill me”, I screamed, preparing to painfully die to meet my maker. The creature was about to attack me when something large, silent as the wind, came charging and clamped down its massive jaws, filled with conical teeth on the hapless creature and raised it. The crocodile struggled before going limp with a crunch within its strong jaws. The big, dark and scaly monster that it is towered over me and is as long as a bus, possibly longer. Its large legs are a contradiction to its small arms that hide beneath its scarred, bulky body.
It turned to look at me with an oddly bird-like expression, revealing in the firelight numerous scars from battles I could never know and looked at me with its beady bird-like eyes, breathing out wisps from its nostrils like a dragon in the cool air. I recognized it as a creature I know too well, a T. Rex. I breathed heavily and sickly, looking at the thing, nearly expecting me to drop the body and go after me. Instead, it simply walked away, carrying its bloody prize with it, and steadily retreated into the darkness.
I then lay down in agonizing exhaustion on my back, thinking of the next step of action like I'm on a suicide mission I would never come back from. I looked in the direction of the graveyard and had one thought. I guess I am dying. a graveyard will do. I struggled to stand up, noticing my blood-soaked clothes and felt a broken left leg. I grasped my wound, limping step by step and enduring the sharp pain while shaking in the cold. Every step I took, I remembered all the memories, good or bad, that I had with my parents. My brother. My friends. My family. I eventually reached the cemetery and slouched at a tree.
“Guess I’m joining you, guys”, I said, speaking to the snow-covered gravestones, only to hear something. A familiar sound of chirping emerged and, lit by the blaze, it was a sight I can hope for. “Joe, what are you doing here”, I depressingly cheered as Joe went to me and curled up in my lap as if he were a cat. I noticed the new-found scar he had on his little snout, but I paid no mind as I petted him. “I guess you came back. Thank you so much for what you did”, I thanked him, not expecting such a loyal creature would be with me, comforting me, to the end, like what my mother used to do when I was a newborn. I heard another noise, this time a deep rumble.
I thought it was another earthquake coming, but it got louder the closer it got to me, becoming more animalistic only felt small vibrations I barely felt. Joe stayed put, oddly enough, as T. Rex, different from the first one, came. It walked towards us until it stopped short of us. It began to produce a low-pitched, bird-like purring, attracting Joe. I realised something, that this T. Rex is Joe’s parent. He joined the rest like him, whom they showed up and all chirped around.
The grown Rex then brought its snout closer to me, not to kill me, but to look at me. It did not reveal its teeth and was still purring. I put my hand out and its nose came close to it. It rubbed it against my hand and started to pet its cold, scaly skin as it breathed through its nose and put it on my chest. I rested my head on it before it pulled away. It gave out a hiss, but I knew it wasn’t that of a threat, but more of a thank you for bringing its small, sometimes immature, child home.
That gave me relief, as it felt like I at least did something for once. They walked away, along with Joe, towards the darkness amongst the gravestones in the cemetery. I glimpsed one last desperate look at Joe before walking beside his parent. I looked up at the sky and I could see all the stars, twinkling, and the dancing green auroras. I began to feel limp and felt the cold embrace of death coming over me, tears pouring out of my eyes. The sky then grew brighter and brighter, the stars faded into the light and I could see my family welcoming me to a new home. It then slowly went black, darker than a cave.
You would think this is the end of me. It wasn’t, or else I wouldn’t be writing this right now. I eventually woke up in a hospital in Regina. I was told I was rescued by a team that transported me while I was in a coma. The doctors said I was very lucky to be alive, as the shrapnel narrowly avoided my vital organs. After that, I was adopted into a new family, but I was only with them for a couple of years before finding a new job and moving out.
As for Sam, I don’t know what happened to her. I would like to think she is safe, somewhere else. As for my family, I think of them all the time. I was in a depressive period right after that. Eventually, over the years, I accepted that they were gone and went to a better place. For Joe, I would like to think he is all grown up, like his parents, and becoming the king of the jungle. I hope we meet again.
As for the evacuated area, it wasn’t some pipeline rupture that caused an evaluation, but an anomaly, with the exact reason not known. There are excuses for the claims of weird stuff going on in there, from disease to chemicals, to eventually a previously unknown geological event, but I saw through it all.
You may ask how, it's because I've been there. Take it or leave it, this is the story I have. As the decade came by, cover-ups were made to hide it, even walls were put around it. Since the incident, the exclusion zone grew from a mere 80 kilometers in diameter to 460 kilometers in diameter, emptying entire cities of the likes of Regina and Saskatoon. I had to move to North Battleford, by the recommendation from the same government covering it up, making me think that time will tell before the floodgates of truth open.
The anomaly didn’t have a name initially, however, over the years, everyone agreed on one name in particular: The Saskatchewan Anomaly.

A Silence Abroad
It was on my first night in Japan that I forgot I was alone. Tokyo’s Shinjuku district greeted me with bright neon lights illuminating flocks of tourists walking shops, arcades, and food stands. And somehow, I was a very small part of it, all by myself on the other side of the world. (Maybe with the occasional tout trying to follow me around.)
Solitude is a vulnerable state, and consequently, a compromise. You seize the moment for yourself, and the space is only yours to fill, but intrusive thoughts will covertly slip through and permeate like a disease. Underneath all the lights, humanity surrounded me, enjoying a drink with friends or snapshotting a moment with family. All these people congregated here from around the world, and in spite of their differences, companionship was what they all shared together. The streets filled with the sounds of their life.
But when you feel alone, the mind tricks you into believing that you are not part of it. And you become a silent spectator, watching the phenomenon that is humanity being orchestrated in front of you. It’s a hollow feeling.
And after not speaking and hearing the sound of your own voice for a while, it becomes replaced by a solemn tone whispering empty thoughts. I tried not to listen.
Nevertheless, Tokyo was beautiful (Senso-ji temple was stunning and my favorite Japanese dessert is now age manju). One night, I even went to a Japanese hip-hop show in Shibuya and it was a wonderful experience. Getting to watch such extremely talented artists so passionate about their craft inspired me and pulled me away from ruminating loneliness for some time. I met one of the performing artists after the show and told him how much I loved his verse (despite not understanding it) and we hugged and he cried. He thanked me over and over until he started apologizing for thanking me so much. It was a special moment and I will always remember his humility. (His band is KOMOREBI - check them out!).
I also went out with some other travelers that night, trying okonomiyaki in Setagaya for the first time (it was mouthful bliss) and then went out to a punk rock concert, and a night club. I wasn’t a huge fan of the clubbing, but the company was refreshing. And like all good things, it was fleeting, and I bid my farewell to everyone that night.
I packed my things, and took a bullet train to my next stop, Kyoto. I was anticipating it, as the train zoomed south with Mount Fuji in surreal, passing view. Looking out the window, seeing my own transparent reflection, I took a breath. The train was moving at around 300 km/hour, but everything felt still and quiet. Even the parts of me that wanted to cry.
Kyoto was rich with temples and vestiges of a long, cherished history. I visited the Kyoto National Museum where I saw sculptured deities with venerable auras, parables scripted in decayed scrolls, and art that embodied Buddhist principles. I saw elevated temples monumental and grand, and others more modest and reserved. But they all stood resolutely, bearing the resilience of time and constant revival. They have felt nature’s desecration during arson and natural disasters, but throughout history, the Japanese have rebuilt and renovated them. And somehow, after enduring all this, as long as time has persisted, here they stood before me, as a testament to strength and preservation.
The long-lasting principles of Buddhism and the culture that were so deeply rooted in this country’s history must continue to live on through the structures that stood before me. Purpose is enough to withstand the cruelty of time’s passage. And the cycle of destruction and restoration that traced centuries was felt in the emanating silence only occupied by the sounds of water trickling down a rill or the occasional soft, swaying of trees. I like to think that ancient silence had touched my existence in those moments and advised me to listen.
Solitude is painful because the empty space that comes with it is congregated by the deeper parts of ourselves that seek to dwell on the purpose of our existence. It is when we are alone and quiet that obtrusive questions confront us, invoking us to listen and contemplate. And when we fail to answer gracefully, that is when the loudest and most self-destructive parts of ourselves will answer for us. The parts that are so keen in stripping our humanity from us.
After my last day in Kyoto, I packed all my things once again, and went over to my final destination, Osaka. I had only one night there. And it was an abrupt return to bustling crowds in the metropolitan. Existential silences were replaced with the sounds of humanity again. But as I walked through Dotonbori on a Friday night eating lots of warm, delicious takoyaki and skewers of Kobe beef, that feeling still returned. I knew I was unwell. And trivialities started to begrudge me and I could tell that it was time. And there would be no escaping it.
I took a taxi back to my hotel and I laid in my bed earlier than expected that night. And everything finally spilled. I cried and I cried and I cried. I was finally listening and it hurt doing so.
This solo trip was supposed to help me escape my problems, but it didn’t. When I brought myself here, I brought everything, and that included problems I wish I could have left behind. And amidst my issues, I questioned myself and my place in the world, even my very reasons for existing during times I felt like I had nobody. And albeit having wonderful moments with people throughout my trip, even strangers who treated me with grace and hospitality, that feeling still lingered and it was revealing a deeper issue. An issue not with whether I was in Japan or back home. Or whether I had people around me or I was alone. It was a deeper issue with myself.
But the silence that comes after the storm is just as serene as the silence that precedes. The older I get, the more I begin to have a respect for emotions and their function. They must be felt and I don’t think they are there to harm or sabotage us, although it might seem like it. It is a need to be heard not by others, but by ourselves. Listening to our own cries for help is scary and uncomfortable, but the silence that follows is like an aged temple still standing after centuries of cyclical adversity. Like the calm flow of water down a rill. Like the soft swaying of trees.
My 10-day solo trip was coming to an end. It was coming time to go home. I spent my last day in Tokyo walking Yoyogi Park. The sky was a clear melancholy overhead scattered, naked trees around the park. I saw couples sitting together, friends circled on picnic blankets, and some reading a book by themselves. Humanity felt beautiful that day and I was grateful to be a part of it, one last time. I packed my things once more before taking my flight back home the next day.
I love Japan and I am grateful it carved a space for me to experience all that I did. This trip will forever hold a special place in my heart. But it was not an epiphany, as much as I wished it was. I did not return home as an entirely new person with newfound happiness or certainty. I returned with the same issues I left with, the same, flawed self that was proof of what it meant to be human this whole time. Only with new experiences. And I don’t think that will change.
My humanity lives in my constant struggle of self-preservation, as I continue to unravel and understand myself as I experience, feel, and change. And perhaps that is enough purpose for my own existence, to strive for those moments of silence, where I will continue to stand resolutely in my own imperfection, alone or not.

I lost my little princess on April 1st this year, just 2 days away from her birthday. I had adopted her on April 3rd, 2021, and ever since she has been my best friend. Every night, she’d fall asleep either in my arms or right next to me, and every morning when i’d wake up she’d be a few inches from my face watching me. Every morning before school, she’d chase me down the steps and follow me out the door when I had to leave, and she’d come running to me when I came home. I ate every meal with her, and every time I would go to the bathroom, I’d open the door to see her sitting right outside waiting for me. Its been a little over a month now, but I am still in so so much pain and I feel like a part of me died with her. I have lost pets before, but I have never had a bond with someone like this, person or pet. She was geniunely my soulmate. I know I need to keep moving on with life but I just feel so empty and alone. I just keep hoping that one day I will be reunited with her.

21F 135lbs 5'10 non smoker not on any medication and no other health problems. I have had hip pain that comes and goes on both sides for the past couple years. it's only ever one side at a time. it gets worse if i stand up after sitting down for a long time, with my legs giving out entirely on occasion. i get intense shots of pain when i sneeze or cough, occasionally feeling a "pop", and when i sit on the toilet i can feel something isn't moving properly. some nights i'm unable to sleep because the pain is so intense. i'm quite flexible, so my theory has been that the muscles just aren't strong enough to keep my joints in the correct position, but it isn't a constant issue. i can go for months at a time without issue and then all of a sudden the pain is back. ive been to chiro, physical therapy, and been getting massages, as well as doing stretching and exercises for it as much as i can (sometimes too painful), but it doesn't seem to be improving. i work as an esthetician in a spa so maybe it's just something to do with the way im sitting or performing services but i really have no idea. any help or suggestions would be appreciated, i don't even really know where to start with getting it sorted out.

Hi, I’m writing this to say I don’t want to continue living like this. I know it’s weak and I know it’ll get better but right now and for the last four years it just hasn’t been better if anything its getting worse I try to pretend it’s not but I can’t continue anymore. I don’t want to continue living anymore, today for the first time ever, I looked up how to have a quick painless death and unfortunately my search did nothing. Apparently it cost a lot to fucking die peacefully too……. before they assisted on how to unalive myself there were a lot of ……before the Internet attempted to assist me on how to unalive myself I saw a lot of posts/ads from suicide hotlines. Last time I called that hotline in high school the person on the phone hung up on me and it made me feel even worse & back then I wasn’t even going through the pain that I am now, so if I were to call today and have another rude person answer the phone and hang up on me. I don’t know what I would do, I don’t want to be here anymore. No one truly cares about me. Everyone talks to each other but no one ever truly talks to me. The most I get out of people is them telling me about themselves, their problems, their concerns etc and not even asking anything about myself AT ALL. Or them quickly changing the subject once I interject and want to talk more about myself, emotions and feelings. Everyone is also quick to snap at me and I don’t know why I’m sick and tired of the abuse! I don’t know how to be approachable enough for ppl. I wish I was more nicer or had a beautiful face so people could at least try to be nice to me. When I attempt to open up even just a little I just come off as a nuisance. Anyway the solutions to unalive myself wasn’t what I wanted. A lot of them said that you could end in failure and could cause me to suffer even more and I don’t like pain and I don’t want to suffer I just wanna go peacefully. I don’t have anyone to reach out to because every time I try I get the same response and it’s not what I want. Also, the people that I know I’ve known for decades and they don’t know this side of me because it is fairly recent. I’m not the same person that I was back when I was a child/teenager. I was very happy, very playful life of the party-type, but not anymore I’m not actually the opposite and I have my reasons why but I’m not comfortable sharing yet. I don’t know what I want. I want the same response I see given to others who are struggling and I don’t want people to look down on me but that’s what I get…. anyway it’s 11:47 AM on Monday morning I just got out of work I’m sitting in the back of my jeep crying for the first time in Lord knows how long because I can’t even fucking cry anymore. I haven’t been able to cry for years I want to go home, but I don’t want to drive crying, so I’m just gonna sit in the back of the jeep with the heat on me until I calm down. The reason I have this note is because I don’t have anyone to talk to. The people I could talk to are busy with their own lives they’re busy at work they’re busy with their friends they’re lovers and I don’t wanna bother them. Also in my head I feel like if they cared they would’ve tried to do something like maybe take me out doing things I wanna do or stayed in with me to support my loneliness that I’ve been dealing with for the past 4/5 years..Also I have a boyfriend but he doesn’t understand me when I get emotional. He’s very closed minded about these topics and the few times when I tried to open up to him he’s been very cold so I’m never gonna do it again, I don’t know ……I don’t wanna be here anymore and I think they’ll be better off without me here anyways because I don’t add any value to their lives ever since I started having these thoughts so that’s all I have to say.
PS: one more thing I understand people have it worse than I do I truly get that and I have been told numerous times by my family and close friends. I understand that I should not complain with the life that I have and I should be happy with the life that I have but I’m not and that’s all I can say.
EDIT: it’s now 10:07 PM and I’ve been debating about posting this online because the algorithms have never been friendly to me. If anyone is reading this any words of affirmation or relatability would be greatly appreciated.

Hi everyone. I (23f) was told I had fibromyalgia when I was 16. I have been struggling with this and other chronic health issues since. I am at my breaking point and I need to know if anyone else struggles with these things and what I can do to alleviate my pain. I was recently diagnosed with IBS I also have transient tic disorder, Lymes disease, and other food allergies that have come on later in life. (I’m totally not trying to throw myself a pity party this is just my reality and I’m really struggling) Other than the lymes everything has been attributed to PTSD, I just don’t see how that can lead to all of this. My entire left side is stiff and I struggle with movement. Last week I felt a lump on my head and thought it was a swollen lymph node, I went to my doctor today and he thinks my skull is inflamed. I am in so much pain from this lump. It is bone hard and radiates pain all through the left side of my head, face, and jaw. What can I do to alleviate my pain. I’m taking ibuprofen and applying ice but it’s not helping. This just seems to be the straw that broke the camels back and I am so exhausted from feeling so broken. What do others do to motivate themselves through their pain? What do others do to alleviate their pain? Does anyone else have a laundry list of problems that started with fibromyalgia or sound similar to my situation? I feel so alone and no one else understands how much I’m struggling with my pain. Thank you in advance.

Title: Mafia Dog
Carissa is in her early 40s. She’s a higher ranking officer in this group.
Jane is in her mid/late 20s.
Note: I believe this series will most likely never be performed. It's a 7-part series that requires either an extensive collab or a VA that can do multiple voices as the same 2 speakers are in every chapter. It varies per chapter as to who has more lines. It also gets loud at times with explosions and gunfire and the like which is not very conducive to ASMR. So, I'm releasing it here without it having been performed. I usually wait until someone performs one of my pieces before I release the script publicly. I hope you enjoy the read.
Info you might want if you do perform it: An Introduction To The Book That Is Me : ASMRScriptHaven (reddit.com)
Note: This takes place after an untold horropsychotic yandere story. If any writer wishes to write that story, be my guest. If you notify me, I'll link it here. This series deals with the recovery, recuperation, and care for the rescued victim.
My masterlist: [FF4M] Mafia Dog - Part 1 of 7 [Paramilitary Group] [Rescued Listener] [Severely Wounded Listener] [Concerned Caring Speakers] [Good Boy] : ASMRScriptHaven (reddit.com)
(All talk and sfx are muffled until the secrete door is opened.)
(Sound of muffled gunfire is going on in adjacent rooms. Door is opened roughly.)
Carissa: Clear. Damn it, she’s not in here.
(Pause.)
Yes, our informant advised that this is her office. And look, here’s the information we needed about the shipments coming in tomorrow on her desk. At least we ended up with that.
Damn it, damn it, damn it! I really thought we had her this time. Our contact said she was here right now. How could she have gotten away?
(Pause.)
Yeah, I know, Mike. Obviously Kent’s not gonna like this. He was hoping this strike would put down this upstart gang for good. We cleared out the rest of her goons at this location, but if Francine is still alive… well, I don’t want to think about that right now. Jane?
Jane: Yeah, Carissa?
Carissa: Jane, you and Mike take the others and double check every room we’ve already cleared. Look for any clue as to Francine’s whereabouts or plans that we can bring back to Kent.
Jane: You got it. Come on, Mike.
Carissa: Ronnie, you stay here with me. If our intel was right and Francine was here, maybe there’s a secret passageway she used to escape, or maybe there’s something else to discover.
(Some light tapping on walls as they look. Then a tap closer to the listener.)
Carissa: Hey, I think I’ve found something. This wall, right here. There’s something behind it. Now, how to get it open.
(Pause.)
Ronnie, great work.
(Pause.)
Yes, hit that button.
(A door slides open and all is now clear to the listener.)
That did it. There’s a secret opening here that leads to… Oh, my God! Ronnie, come here.
(Pause.)
Hey, are you all right? Can you hear me?
(Pause.)
Ronnie, put that gun down. You’re scaring him.
(Pause.)
Yes, I know Kent’s orders were to eliminate everyone we find, but this is different. He’s obviously not one of them. Look at him. He’s tied and gagged, and it looks like he’s been beaten to within an inch of his life. He’s still got dried blood on him. Whoever he is, he’s not a threat to us and he clearly needs our help.
(Pause.)
Ronnie, besides the fact that what you just said reveals you to be an inhuman prick and should be ignored on its own, you need to consider the fact that he may be some use. At the very least, he may know some things about Francine.
(Pause.)
No, calling you inhuman was not a compliment. Kent’s orders didn’t account for us finding someone like this in here, and I’m going to help him.
(Pause.)
I don’t care if it is easier to put him down. I’m taking him with us. God, what is wrong with you?
(Pause.)
Yes, it will be on my head if he turns out to be one of them.
(To the listener.) Hey, you, look at me. I’m going to remove the gag, ok. I want to talk to you.
(Pause.)
No, no, no. Don’t shake your head. Stop thrashing. We’re here to help. I’m not going to hurt you.
(Pause.)
(To Ronnie.) Ugh. Damn it. He’s scared to death and he’s going to hurt himself further if he keeps this up.
(Pause.)
Yeah, Ronnie, we’ve already established you don’t give a rat’s ass if he kills himself, but just accept that I do and that I’m in charge right now and give me the bag. I’m going to use the sedative on him.
(Pause.)
Of course, I know we brought it for Francine, but she’s not here, now is she?
(To the listener.) Ok, buddy, I’m sorry if the needle stings, but this will relax you while we move you somewhere safe. See you on the other side.
(Time passes.)
Jane: Carissa, come here. He’s waking up.
Carissa: (Whispering softly.) Hey there, big guy. How are you doing?
(Pause.)
(Not angry, but forceful like she knows what she’s doing.) No, no. Stop struggling, ok? STOP!
(Pause.)
(Calm.) Good. That’s very good. You’ve been wounded. You’re in our infirmary and you’re strapped to the bed. Any struggling could possibly cause you serious harm.
Jane: Carissa’s right. At best it will make it so our medical staff have to reconnect your IVs, and you don’t want to make them work any harder than you have to, do you?
It’s ok. We’re here to care for you. Do you understand? We want to help.
(Pause.)
Carissa: Ok, good. Good. Stay calm. Look, I’m being soft and tender, see? Jane will brush your hair with her hand while you and I talk for a bit.
I know you’ve got to be scared out of your mind right now, but if you just stay calm, we’ll do what we can to reassure you that everything’s all right. Ok?
(Pause.)
(Sigh.) Good. Good boy.
Jane: Carissa, I think he likes it when you call him that.
Carissa: (To Jane.) Yeah, I think you’re right.
(To the listener.) You like that? Ok, then. That’s what I’ll call you, ok? Good boy.
Here, now I’ll hold your hand while you lay still. My name is Carissa. That gentleman over by the door is Mike, and I already told you that this is Jane. And you are my good boy.
That’s right. I’m going to take care of you, good boy. I’m not going to let any harm come to you anymore. You’re not in any danger. These two, Mike and Jane, they’re here for you specifically to make sure nobody comes in here to hurt you.
Jane: Carissa’s right. You’re completely safe. You can rest easy while we’re here. Ok? You just rest and recover and leave everything else to us.
Carissa: And I’m going to see to it that I do everything I can to make you feel safe and protected as well. Now, to do that, we need to know a few things about you. The doctor wants you to rest. She’s telling us we can only have a few minutes with you, so we’ll make this quick. Ok?
Jane: You’re being such a good boy right now. I’ll keep running my fingers through your hair while you answer Carissa’s questions, ok?
Carissa: Now, we just need you to confirm a few things. Did Francine do this to you? Was she there in the place where we found you?
(Pause as listener doesn’t want to say anything.)
Jane: It’s ok. You can tell us.
Carissa: You’re afraid, aren’t you? She did this to you and you’re afraid if you tell us anything, she’s going to punish you.
(Pause.)
No, you don’t have to say anything. I’m not trying to frighten you. I want you to feel safe with me. You’re my good boy, remember? I wouldn’t do anything to hurt my good boy.
Here you go. I’ll just stroke your hair gently as well with my other hand. I can see you really like that when Jane does it. Does that make you feel better, good boy?
Jane: It certainly does. You’re being so good.
Carissa: Yes, you are. So, let me ask an easier question. Do you know how long Francine had you there?
(Pause.)
You don’t know? A long time? They picked you up off the street in a blizzard by offering you a warm place to stay.
Jane: My God. It’s summer now so it’s been several months at least. You poor boy.
Carissa: Well, we’ve got you now, ok?
(Softly aside to Jane.) And now we’ve just confirmed that it was Francine who was there and did this to him.
Jane: (Softly to Carissa.) Ooh, clever.
Carissa: Don’t worry, good boy, you are safe with us. You can count on that.
(Aside.) Yes, Ronnie? Kent needs me? Ok, I’ll be right there.
(To the listener.) Ok, good boy. I have to go, but Jane and Mike are going to stay just outside of your room while you get some more sleep, ok?
Jane: And I’ll stay right here beside you until you fall asleep.
Carissa: The doctor will be in periodically to check on you. Her name is Suzanne and she’s very nice, so you don’t have to worry about her. When she comes by, do what she says, ok? She’s only trying to help.
And I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’re safe as long as you’re here. I can see that you’re still very tired. They’ve given you a lot of medication so you don’t feel any pain. You be my good, good boy while I’m gone and everything will be ok.
Here. (Kiss.) Just a kiss on your forehead for my good boy. You sleep now.
Jane: And if you wake up and Carissa’s not here and you’re scared, just let me know and I’ll sit with you too. Ok?
Carissa: Good boy. Get some rest.
(Time passes. Listener wakes up and hears what Carissa’s saying to Kent, but Carissa initially doesn’t notice.)
(To Kent.) No, Kent, what I’m telling you is that he was her dog, only I think she got her kicks out of… well literally kicking him. Did you hear what Suzanne said about his injuries? That bitch Francine is twisted.
(Pause.)
No, he’s been fine since we brought him in. He’s a little scared, but that’s to be expected.
(Pause.)
What? No, you can’t do that to him. He needs protection! I’m not sending him away. I’ll care for him myself if I…
(Pause.)
Oh, I’m sorry, Kent. You weren’t saying get rid of him.
(Pause.)
Yeah, I guess I am a little zealous over this one. You know where you found me twenty years ago. I guess my heart went out to the guy as soon as I saw him. I can empathize with where he’s been.
(Pause.)
Yeah, thank you for understanding, Kent.
(Pause.)
No, you’re absolutely right with that. He’s going to need some special attention for a while.
(Pause.)
Yes, of course. I’ll take full responsibility. Mike and Jane have agreed to help too. I think they feel sorry for him like I do. I promise, I’ll… Oh, hold on, Kent.
(To listener.) Hey there, good boy. You feeling better?
(Pause.)
That’s right. I told you I’d be back as soon as I could.
(To Kent.)
No, Kent, I understand. Go ahead. I’ll stay here with my good boy.
(Pause.)
Yeah, I’ll keep you updated. And thanks, Kent.
(To listener.) Did you sleep well, good boy?
(Pause.)
That’s good to hear. I’m glad you’re feeling better.
(Pause.)
Yes, the straps are still on. This is a new situation and we wanted to make sure you weren’t going to hurt anybody because you got scared, including yourself.
(Pause.)
No. I don’t think you’re violent, but it’s a precaution we take with everybody. Understand? They’ve even had to do it to me a couple times when I’ve been down here injured. I tend to move around a lot when I sleep and I can hurt myself by pulling out everything the doctors have attached.
(Pause.)
(Taken aback.) Wha…? Mistress? No, no. I’m not your mistress.
(Pause.)
Oh, don’t cry. I’m not mad at you for saying that. You’re still my good boy. Here, let me hug you. Does that feel better?
(Pause.)
There, there. You’re ok. I wasn’t mad at you, and I wasn’t rejecting you.
(Pause.)
No, you don’t have to call me… You know what? It’s ok. You can call me mistress for now if it makes you feel better.
(Pause.)
I can tell that it does. You’re more at ease. Ok, I’m your mistress.
(To herself.) I guess that’s something we’re going to have to work on.
(Pause.)
What? Oh, nothing, my good boy. Nothing you have to worry about right now.
Now that you’re awake, Suzanne has some tests she wants to run. Mostly she’s just going to talk to you, show you some lights, that kind of thing. I don’t think any needles are involved this time.
(Pause.)
I know. I hate needles too. So just relax and do what she says. And when she’s done, Mike will come in to keep you company for a while. I have some business to take care of.
(Pause.)
What should you do while I’m gone? Well, you need to make sure that when I come back, everybody tells me what a good boy you’ve been. Ok?
(Pause.)
Yes, Jane will be here in a while too. She’s out right now on an assignment, but she’ll be back.
(Pause.)
Oh, that makes you smile, does it? Well, good. I’m glad she makes you feel better. Ok, so long for now, my good boy. Know that you’re safe.
Part 2 coming.

A Silence Abroad
It was on my first night in Japan that I forgot I was alone. Tokyo’s Shinjuku district greeted me with bright neon lights illuminating flocks of tourists walking shops, arcades, and food stands. And somehow, I was a very small part of it, all by myself on the other side of the world. (Maybe with the occasional tout trying to follow me around.)
Solitude is a vulnerable state, and consequently, a compromise. You seize the moment for yourself, and the space is only yours to fill, but intrusive thoughts will covertly slip through and permeate like a disease. Underneath all the lights, humanity surrounded me, enjoying a drink with friends or snapshotting a moment with family. All these people congregated here from around the world, and in spite of their differences, companionship was what they all shared together. The streets filled with the sounds of their life.
But when you feel alone, the mind tricks you into believing that you are not part of it. And you become a silent spectator, watching the phenomenon that is humanity being orchestrated in front of you. It’s a hollow feeling.
And after not speaking and hearing the sound of your own voice for a while, it becomes replaced by a solemn tone whispering empty thoughts. I tried not to listen.
Nevertheless, Tokyo was beautiful (Senso-ji temple was stunning and my favorite Japanese dessert is now age manju). One night, I even went to a Japanese hip-hop show in Shibuya and it was a wonderful experience. Getting to watch such extremely talented artists so passionate about their craft inspired me and pulled me away from ruminating loneliness for some time. I met one of the performing artists after the show and told him how much I loved his verse (despite not understanding it) and we hugged and he cried. He thanked me over and over until he started apologizing for thanking me so much. It was a special moment and I will always remember his humility. (His band is KOMOREBI - check them out!).
I also went out with some other travelers that night, trying okonomiyaki in Setagaya for the first time (it was mouthful bliss) and then went out to a punk rock concert, and a night club. I wasn’t a huge fan of the clubbing, but the company was refreshing. And like all good things, it was fleeting, and I bid my farewell to everyone that night.
I packed my things, and took a bullet train to my next stop, Kyoto. I was anticipating it, as the train zoomed south with Mount Fuji in surreal, passing view. Looking out the window, seeing my own transparent reflection, I took a breath. The train was moving at around 300 km/hour, but everything felt still and quiet. Even the parts of me that wanted to cry.
Kyoto was rich with temples and vestiges of a long, cherished history. I visited the Kyoto National Museum where I saw sculptured deities with venerable auras, parables scripted in decayed scrolls, and art that embodied Buddhist principles. I saw elevated temples monumental and grand, and others more modest and reserved. But they all stood resolutely, bearing the resilience of time and constant revival. They have felt nature’s desecration during arson and natural disasters, but throughout history, the Japanese have rebuilt and renovated them. And somehow, after enduring all this, as long as time has persisted, here they stood before me, as a testament to strength and preservation.
The long-lasting principles of Buddhism and the culture that were so deeply rooted in this country’s history must continue to live on through the structures that stood before me. Purpose is enough to withstand the cruelty of time’s passage. And the cycle of destruction and restoration that traced centuries was felt in the emanating silence only occupied by the sounds of water trickling down a rill or the occasional soft, swaying of trees. I like to think that ancient silence had touched my existence in those moments and advised me to listen.
Solitude is painful because the empty space that comes with it is congregated by the deeper parts of ourselves that seek to dwell on the purpose of our existence. It is when we are alone and quiet that obtrusive questions confront us, invoking us to listen and contemplate. And when we fail to answer gracefully, that is when the loudest and most self-destructive parts of ourselves will answer for us. The parts that are so keen in stripping our humanity from us.
After my last day in Kyoto, I packed all my things once again, and went over to my final destination, Osaka. I had only one night there. And it was an abrupt return to bustling crowds in the metropolitan. Existential silences were replaced with the sounds of humanity again. But as I walked through Dotonbori on a Friday night eating lots of warm, delicious takoyaki and skewers of Kobe beef, that feeling still returned. I knew I was unwell. And trivialities started to begrudge me and I could tell that it was time. And there would be no escaping it.
I took a taxi back to my hotel and I laid in my bed earlier than expected that night. And everything finally spilled. I cried and I cried and I cried. I was finally listening and it hurt doing so.
This solo trip was supposed to help me escape my problems, but it didn’t. When I brought myself here, I brought everything, and that included problems I wish I could have left behind. And amidst my issues, I questioned myself and my place in the world, even my very reasons for existing during times I felt like I had nobody. And albeit having wonderful moments with people throughout my trip, even strangers who treated me with grace and hospitality, that feeling still lingered and it was revealing a deeper issue. An issue not with whether I was in Japan or back home. Or whether I had people around me or I was alone. It was a deeper issue with myself.
But the silence that comes after the storm is just as serene as the silence that precedes. The older I get, the more I begin to have a respect for emotions and their function. They must be felt and I don’t think they are there to harm or sabotage us, although it might seem like it. It is a need to be heard not by others, but by ourselves. Listening to our own cries for help is scary and uncomfortable, but the silence that follows is like an aged temple still standing after centuries of cyclical adversity. Like the calm flow of water down a rill. Like the soft swaying of trees.
My 10-day solo trip was coming to an end. It was coming time to go home. I spent my last day in Tokyo walking Yoyogi Park. The sky was a clear melancholy overhead scattered, naked trees around the park. I saw couples sitting together, friends circled on picnic blankets, and some reading a book by themselves. Humanity felt beautiful that day and I was grateful to be a part of it, one last time. I packed my things once more before taking my flight back home the next day.
I love Japan and I am grateful it carved a space for me to experience all that I did. This trip will forever hold a special place in my heart. But it was not an epiphany, as much as I wished it was. I did not return home as an entirely new person with newfound happiness or certainty. I returned with the same issues I left with, the same, flawed self that was proof of what it meant to be human this whole time. Only with new experiences. And I don’t think that will change.
My humanity lives in my constant struggle of self-preservation, as I continue to unravel and understand myself as I experience, feel, and change. And perhaps that is enough purpose for my own existence, to strive for those moments of silence, where I will continue to stand resolutely in my own imperfection, alone or not.
https://open.substack.com/pub/tazwarf/p/a-silence-abroad?r=33upu9&utm_medium=ios
Link to my feedback comment: https://www.reddit.com/DestructiveReaders/comments/1cil5io/comment/l3xyw2a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

This year has been very boring & shit & is only getting worse it seems. I remember back in 2021 I used to complain about everyday being boring asf but boy that year was way more interesting than this one. Last year was shit too. I don't find anything enjoyable, I can't go outside + I hate going outside too when I actually do get a chance to go out, I find when I get up late the day is less boring but I have to get up early majority of days & man is the day boring ashell, I get either 4 hours or 10-12 hours sleep but I feel tired regardless, I find the dreams I have at night to be way more interesting than life. I have no hobbies, interests or friends, reason being I'm not good at anything & what's even the point therefore I find enjoyment, for friends... I don't get along with people. No one talks to me & I don't talk to them, I find it really difficult & awkward to even say hi to anyone. Only way I found I could talk to anyone was through vaping, if it was awkward I took a hit, also if there was more than just me and the other person, that was how I used to be able to speak with people but its been over 2 years since i last vaped & I dont even bother looking for groups, i just end up standing there completely silent. Despite this, I don't like school but I like it more than home. Even just sitting there with a bunch of people who probably forgot about my existence and are probably thinking, who the hell is this guy & what wrong with him, I like that more than being at home. My appearance isn't good & I hate it, my eyes are pretty much black & skin is ice white almost, have bruises & marks on my face from how angry I get everyday, I just hate myself so much that I resort to punching myself or smashing my head of the walls, i done it tonight & I couldn't even feel the pain, don't know if I'm just weak or if I'm just that tolerant of pain, I feel more pain in my hand than I did after smashing my head in a good dozen times, I haven't cried naturally in over 5 years & the last few weeks I come very close to doing so. Reason for beating myself, 1. I'm not allowed to express emotions because it's too loud so hitting myself is quiet but still my parents hear it & continue their yapping, thats what pushes me to start beating the living shit out of myself dozens of times it's because I get so angry & 2. I absolutely hate myself so I'm not destroying anything of value by destroying myself , why would you not destroy something you hate or don't want? Daily I'm thinking about offing myself, whether that be thinking it or straight up visualizing it, visualizing it is mainly used to numb myself when something awkward or one of them embarrassing moment happens, Im not purposely doing it either when these moments happen that's my first instinct. That took a dark turn quite quickly, I was going yo write something completely different originally but I can't really remember, it was something like why am I getting worse cus in 2022 I thought everything was getting better but ended up worse. I feel bad for whoever is going to read this & they probably just going to think im some attention deprived degenerate or something

This is a venting type post because I'm having a hard time and so few people in my life understand. I feel like I just keep saying the same things to the people in my life. I feel like I'm lying. I always say I'm ok, I'm trying a new treatment, and I'm hopeful. It's so hard to say that I'm struggling, because what can anyone do? I am hopeful, but I'm also so depressed. I used to live with denial, that one day everything would just magically go back to normal and I would be ok, but this condition has affected me so greatly in the past 10 years, I will never be the same. With every progress comes an enormous amount of sadness as things shift and change and I face what migraine has taken from me. I worry that I allow it to take from me. I sometimes enjoy just sitting in the dark. Or do I tell myself I enjoy it? I miss being a kid and doing things because I wanted to, not having to plan everything so carefully around when I have a migraine, or when I might have a migraine. I hate feeling like a victim. I will always try the new treatments, I will keep going to the doctor, I will spend the money I don't have on the supplements, but I hate every minute of it. And I hate wanting, too. Wanting better, wanting different, because what if it doesn't happen?
For those that relate, do you have any mantras to make yourself feel strong again? Any people who inspire you that have dealt with chronic illness or chronic conditions/pain? I am feeling my feelings tonight but come tomorrow I want to strengthen my resolve.

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

Huge shout out to & for helping with Brainstorming and Co-Writing this.
As always, all credits for the original Nature of Predators and it's content goes to Space Paladin15, thank him for allowing artist and writers to use his original work of art for their own uses.
Gaian Ref Sheet-Here, Done by the artist
As well as a *Huge* thank you for Julian Skys for filling in for the editor for this chapter. I'll post a comment as to why I haven't been posting too much, safe to say though, kept ya waiting huh?
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[Subject Memory Transcription: Rux Limpbut, Venlil News Anchor and TV Show Host]
Date [Standardized Galactic(?) Time]:August 1st, 2136
Now I'm regretting not taking that transfer last week. This just keeps getting better.
I was in my car outside of the Network’s station. I was at my wits end yesterday and was trying my damnedest *not* to freak out on air. Now? Now I had the pleasure of my network telling me they needed me to come in way early to report on some breaking news. Just as I was about to leave for Solgaliks sake!
I took a small sip of the “coffee”. Now this was a blessing, coffeehouses on Gaia were open paw around, no matter what. I was giving a small prayer to those “ancestors” for their love of anything strong. Well, anything strong that wasn't alcohol. They could stomach one drink or two but after that? They were out.
Slurrrrrp
I let out a relieved sigh as the warm liquid flowed down my maw, the reward of caffeine soon following after this. Hopefully in time for the recording. With that I opened the door, grabbing my briefcase as I greedily drank the rest of the coffee as I approached the wide doors of the Networks station.
They creaked a little as they always did as I appeared in the doorway, a sleepy, overworked ghost. I tossed the coffee cup into the trashcan by the door as I nodded over the after work plans that I had to either postpone, or completely not do.
No bar time, going to be too tired. Not going to have enough time to do more digging in what that Farsulian diplomat released, even after it's been nearly two months. Brahk. Still need to be ready for the shift tomorrow-
“Rux?” The front desk secretary pulled me up and out of my thoughts as I blinked a couple of times, my ears raising as one of my eyes focused on her, a bit frizzled from the overtime I was clocking at the moment.
“Hm? Oh. Hey Liakal, caught me off guard almost as bad as the padcall I got. What's up?” I rubbed my eye as I fully focused on her, making my way over to her.
“Well, whenever you're ready for them they'll give you all you need, apparently, when you get into the studio. What they told me is uh, it's not a pleasant amount of news.” She nervously played with her claws and her headset, her lips quivering a bit.
“That bad? Speh. What about that uh, guest? She gets off-”
“O-oh! Mrs Tarva. She got off the planet easily. I can't say anything else though Rux. They said whatever they have to tell is very, very pertinent not to be let loose until you broadcast it… sorry Rux.”
I patted the top of the semi circle desk that Liakal was sat into, before giving her a quick, albeit small smile with a finger gun before I quickly deflated. It was that bad. With a nod from me I departed into the hallway to the left of the front desk, approaching one of the elevators.
A button press, a chime and the feeling of gravity and anxiousness about to make me hurl later, I was on the floor with the studios. I retraced the steps I had taken only claws before to mine. The green sign saying “Predator Problems” told me I hadn't failed as usual. Something had to be done with our program and segment name, if for nothing else there was apparently much more juicy stuff to talk about.
Opening the door, I expected the hustling and scrambling of the cameramen, the lighting crew, audio specialists. But nothing except a small huddled group of uniformed men. Brahk, I was hoping this wasn't the case but I was never that lucky. I resigned myself to fate as the group finally paid attention to me, and the door clicking and shutting behind me.
“Mr. Rux. Please come over here and sit. You're all good, we just need to go over what we need you to announce in this upcoming impromptu broadcast.” Why the hell were the Gaians on Prime? Wait no. That's not the problem. Why are officers from their military here? Oh stars.
However I could feel my body coming towards the oval shaped table. Eventually knocking into a chair and pulling it out, resting my briefcase onto the ground and taking a seat, pulling up to the desk. I rested my paws on it as I gave a look to the group assembled around it.
All were wearing roughly the same uniform, their fur patterns one of the only differing things between them. Aside from the one at the end of the table. They wore a green beret atop their head, nestled in between the horns that adorned it. They cleared their throat and slid a small packet of papers towards me, startling me a tiny bit.
“While I wish to be polite and respectful, there's simply no way to say this without being blunt. Sole Speaker Jikem is dead. With the current atmosphere on Gaia we thought it'd be best to announce the formation of an emergency government and a leader to head it. All of which has been done in a roundabout manner so as to not alert any radicals or terrorists.”
I had only taken a cursory glance at the front of the small packet before that bombshell of an information was dropped onto me nonchalantly. My paw was halfway to the front page to turn it before my gaze looked up at the Gaian at the end of the oval table who had done so.
“What? Sorry can you-”
“Rux. Come on, you know what I said. Now, I know it isn't everypaw that you get to report on the death of a head of state, let alone be the first one to do so. I'll most certainly give you that. So, we'll give you some time alone…well mostly, to get acquainted with the packet and once you and your crew are roaring to go we'll release the news to the Commonwealth.”
I took a small lookover of the second page but had to pause for a short moment again as I took it in. Yes, yes I did have some questions. Half from the large info dropped on me and the other half that I was now reading with my very own eyes now.
Before they could fully get up I had worked up the courage to get a short clearing of the throat and read out of the lines in the packet out aloud after I had decided it would be better to ask now rather than after. “In conjunction with recent attacks the Armed forces has decided to-” I put down the packet in its entirety now.
“What in the stars could you possibly mean by “safeguarding” democracy? This just seems to be some type of justification for a military takeover. I mean, who's going to fall for this?”
The chairs of the small clique of officers seem to find themselves filled once more as they returned to their positions, most of them now gazing between me, some random crew member scurrying near me and the head honcho with the green beret.
The intensity of the stare of the Gaian at the opposite end of the table seemed to intensify, seemingly his gaze looking through me. “Mr. Rux, I can assure you any such speculation to that matter and that, frankly, justified if albeit imaginary fear is going to be the last thing people on Gaia are going to worry about. Alright?”
I anxiously nodded back, sighing. “L-look I'm just-”
The Bereted officer seemed to nod while holding up his paw, my line of reasoning and thought being stopped by the intrusion. “Worried, you ancestors are always worried. It's why we're here, yes? Anything too dangerous or otherwise unsafe we've always volunteered for so as to save our more cultured self from such. Think about this announcement like that. A warning and an update from our side of the Commonwealth about current affairs, nothing more, nothing less.”
With that it seemed settled for the time being, as the small clique once again rose, and this time was actually able to depart to the booth that overlooked the studio, keeping what I was sure to guess a keen pair of eyes to observe anything.
I settled into my seat more as I gave the small packet a read. It was general stuff as of this point when it came to announcements. Why it's happening, what happened in more details, what they planned to do in the upcoming future, all that juicy stuff. Overall a very plain, if very informative script to go by. Still, being the first to announce the death of a head of state via “Unnatural Causes” would make even some of the most resolved Gaians a bit jumpy, yes?
Once I finally gave the entirety of the packet a quick read over I sat it down giving a glance to my, by now, very familiar set that we used for “Predator Problems”, the entire reason for why I had started it had been to educate and warn people about what to do with predators and the like. Now I was going to have to educate them, apparently, about the fact that our “brothers” in species so to speak were having a bit of topsy-turvy time on their capital planet. Now I was kinda hoping I was one of the more conspiracy theorist nut jobs just so I didn't have to get contacted.
Resigning myself to fate, and the fact that apparently I of all Vens was the most level headed to announce this, I looked over the studio, eventually finding the small group of uniformed men again. I got up and out of the chair as I made my way over to them, flicking my tail into a questioning sign as I did so, my approaching presence quickly noticed.
“Seems like you've got some questions, you read the packet though yeah?” One of them said, I simply signaled a yes with my ears to respond.
“So, is this immediately being aired? Or is it being aired later on tomorrow-well, this paw? Should it be the first thing or the last thing or is it the only thing I'm doing for this one?” With these questions the small clique seemed to talk in-between themselves, small glances were made in my general direction, they seemed to come to some type of conclusion though as they turned back to me, the bereted one now taking center stage again once more.
“Yes. It's being immediately aired. You do realize you are a bit of a celebrity on Gaia, yes? A special breaking news from you would certainly draw the right eyes. Then it'll spread from there. We do have other stuff for you to read, but it'll appear on the prompter. Other than that though we'll take our leave once everything is said and done.”
I gave a small thanks to Solgalik, as that would mean I would be able to go back home and get at least a claw or two of rest. Speh, if I just slept here I could get an extra one easy. But I didn't have much time to dwell on that, instead I apparently had a job to do right now.
With that bit of information I decided to go around, talking to the crew, who as of this point has finally settled down and has stopped scattering from the Gaians. A small conversation with each helped us plan out the next few tantalizingly painful minutes that were about to unfold live on air.
With everything and everyone in place, I took my seat at the curved table in the middle of the cameras, getting my little tie ready. With a countdown from 3, I settled into my on screen persona as the red lights of the cameras went on.
“Good Paw to everyone tuning in! I'm your host as always, Rux Limpbut, and this is Predator problems. This time though, we do have some breaking news that we need to get to. So with that being said, I suppose it's time for me to get to it.”
I straightened my back, placing my paws firmly as I closed my eyes, breathing in and then opening my eyes again.
Alright. Just gotta break the news that the head of state of the other half of our Commonwealth is dead and their Army just decided to seize power for democracy's sake.
“I have some sad, and what some can and should be saying is unsettling, news. Sole Speaker Jikem of the Gaian Cooperative, has died earlier this paw. Details are scarce and hard to come by as of this point, but from preliminary reports and investigations, it seems as though he *may* have been assassinated while at a checkpoint. As many of you know he was elected on a lockstep ticket with the current governor of Venlil Prime, Veln. He oversaw the last closing years of the Dominion-Federation war, as well as the beginning of closer federation ties. Many people are bound to ask as of this point what is going to happen, and the easiest and most truthful answer is…we don't know.”
I shuffled some papers, discarding the packet to the side of the table before continuing on with the information I was to spout out.
“Already reports are coming in that the Armed Forces of Gaia have declared a state of emergency and already there are rumblings that they have formed… an emergency government?”
I gave a bit of a confused look before continuing, I could see the group of uniformed Gaians nodding as I did so, apparently that was good enough for them.
The rest of the news report was generally a bit unsettling, or at least info packed by many people's standards. Updates on the federation at large, some reports on the status of the Venian Commonwealth and what was the plan going forward and before I knew it the red blinking light on the cameras had vanished, and the lights overhead had dimmed.
“Alright, that's good for us. We'll have one of our guys stay over the paw to help your team edit it but other than that? You can head on home.” The bereted one informed me, before signalling to one of the clique, most likely the one to stay here and “help” us edit.
I rested back in my chair and closed my eyes, I think it was time for me to get some shuteye.
—----------
Smoke billows out from the mouth of the Uniformed figure, a lit cigar cradled in his claws. He takes a survey of the trio gathered in front of him.
“So.” The figure grunts out, leaning back into his chair.
“So, what?” One of the trio asks inquisitively, shifting in their seat.
“So now what? Not many paws you get to make a masterstroke of a situation like this. Sole speaker is dead, people are looking to any type of stability and we perfectly fill the slot.” The Uniformed figure takes the cigar up to his mouth, smoking it lightly.
“Well there are numerous concerns.” The most center of the trio speak.
“Like what to do with those brahking predators that apparently still exist.” To the right of the first speaker.
“I vote we integrate them posthaste!” And finally the one on the other end.
A thick billowing cloud of smoke escapes the lips of the Uniformed figure, fidgeting for a moment before rolling forward. His face now fully lit.
“Gentlemen. Calm down. We have plenty of problems with plenty of solutions. But that's why you put me in charge of this little emergency government anyhow right? Levelheaded, warhero, clean political record.”
The trio murmur for a moment before returning a nod, the middle one piping up as he did so.
“Yes, that is why we decided to throw our towel in with you Marshal.”
The Uniformed figure now places his elbows on the table, his paws bridging each other while the cigar is still in-between in his paws.
“That's Marshal-at-Arms Jyuvernik to you. Now where were we? Ah right. The Dark corner. I want you to send a diplomatic team to assess the cattle debacle.”

So I’ll try to keep this short. I love her more than anything and she’s a great woman. I’ve tried for the past almost decade to get her on the right track to be healthier for her own happiness and ability to travel and be healthy when she retires. She is 60 now. She recently got her hands on semaglutide or “ozempic”. She depends on me to give her the injections because she’s not responsible enough to do it herself. When I realized she wasn’t doing the bare minimum of what needs to be done for her goals, I told her that I’m not putting this chemical into you that has negative side effects when you aren’t even doing the smallest, most effective things like diet, light exercise and just not coming home and sitting on the coach all night. She has every excuse in the book as to why she sat around all day. She’s a cancer survivor, has had 3 knee surgeries (she doesn’t pt her knees and wonder why they are in pain) and lives a very inactive lifestyle. I’ve tried over and over again…..This was 2 months ago. She hasn’t even lost any weight while using it. Today we got into a fight because after I’ve expressed my deep concerns for her months ago, she still has the nerve to get mad at me and treat me like the bad guy and act like I don’t want to help her or like I don’t want her to succeed. She’s someone that’s always looked for a “magic pill” or “get fit fast diet” that never works. I try to explain to her what she is taking and she can’t even say the name of the chemical she wants to put into her body so bad. She’s not mature enough to administer injections herself and the worst is her blatant disregard and lack of care for my concerns and what I’ve tried to explain to her over and over again. If it matters to anyone I’m in great shape and used to be a personal trainer when I got out of the marine corps. I also used to powerlift and bodybuild so I know ALOT about peptides, steroids and hormones all together. Endocrinology is one of my biggest interests.
Thank you for any feed back that I receive.

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

I'm an 18-year-old guy, and I recently finished up my first year of university. I've had a lot of free time lately since I don't start working for another week, and I stumbled upon some blackpill/incel content online. Since then, it's been about 3 weeks, and I can easily say that whatever confidence I've built up over the last few years has been completely burnt down.
For reference, I'm about 173 cm (5'8) and live in Canada. I've been weightlifting and working out consistently for 2 years, and am in good shape. I'm South Asian and grew up in a pretty diverse neighborhood, so I didn't feel too out of place because of my race for the most part. Around 20 days ago, I stumbled upon the shortguys and ExposingHeightism subreddits because I saw a TikTok making fun of guys around my height. I don't think I've had serious issues about my relatively short stature up until now, primarily because I haven't started dating seriously and have been extremely occupied with hobbies (chess, politics, comp sci, reading, etc). After watching some of the content here, I feel like I've become addicted to it, and I feel like all my free time is spent watching more and more content about how unattractive my height is. Seeing TikToks and tweets online making fun of guys my height and shorter, and also how many women find short men repulsive has seriously damaged my confidence. Along with that, seeing statistics about how many women put up height requirements in online dating and about how many of them find tall men attractive has made me super insecure about my masculinity as a whole. I feel like I've seen so many TikToks where women around my age view men shorter than them, or just shorter in general as subhuman. I've spent so much time drowning in this incel content that it's the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. I've thrown all my hobbies out the window to stay up late and wallow in this depressive content. I'm addicted, and I've spent countless hours over the last few days consuming this content.
I've been constantly comparing myself to other people. I find myself searching up celebrity heights just for the sake of it. I've brought up height so much in casual conversations that my friends and family are starting to pick up on this crippling insecurity. I find myself trying to fix my posture and stand up as straight as possible when I'm around my close friends, just to feel like I'm almost at their eye level. All of them are taller than me (around 182+ cm, 6'0 and up) and it has taken a serious drag at my perspective of masculinity and how people perceive me. I'm constantly thinking about height and feel like I have reduced myself and the people around me to that, and nothing else. I feel as if height is so important, and there's nothing I can do about it. I seriously think being tall is one of the greatest genetic gifts, and it pains me that I will never experience it. To all of you wondering, there is no chance I will get taller as well, my mom is only 4'11, and my dad is 5'4.
A lot of my taller friends (190+ cm, 6'3 and up) have talked about how nice it is to be tall and how much it has positively impacted their dating experience. I haven't even started talking to girls seriously, I've never been on a date, and haven't had my first kiss. I feel like my ethnicity and looks are going to be a huge shortcoming when I start doing so, and I already know that when I get rejected it's going to take me down completely. I used to be confident in myself, happy, and viewed the world and myself optimistically. Now, I've scared myself into believing that dating and finding serious relationships is gonna be a huge struggle, that I'm too ugly to feel good about myself, and that I'll never be good enough. I feel like I can't even look at myself in the mirror without tearing up. My recent obsession with height, facial attractiveness, dating statistics, blackpill content, and the incel movement has transformed me from an extremely happy teenager to a guy that sits in my bed all day feeling depressed and horrible about myself. How can I get myself out of this rabbit hole?
tl;dr: I (18M) consumed a bunch of blackpill/incel content regarding height and looks and now can't take myself seriously. Feeling very insecure and looking for advice.

I finally published for the first time. Not the first time I've finished a novel, but certainly the first time I have actively published one .. one that I've been a little proud of. I know it's a long process to get noticed, or even start to see some traction in sales & downloads, but how do you go about promoting your novel? I feel like I'm stuck. 😕
Beginning of chapter one below - if anyone would like to provide feedback that would be lovely. 🙂
[2,310] It began like a surreal haze, a fever dream dancing with unknown figures swirling around her like a languid tornado, their movements seemingly slowed by some unseen force as she awoke to a world spinning out of her control. She found herself surrounded by strangers who moved like spectres in a dream, fragmented flashes who assaulted her consciousness - a woman gently pressing a cloth to her throbbing head, another offering sips of water while she coughed and struggled to swallow, a man peering down at her with a furrowed brow, and a mysterious figure lingering in the doorway with an unsettling glint of desire in his eyes.
The room buzzed with a quiet urgency as they hovered around her, their faces etched with concern and something else she couldn't quite place - an undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse in time with her own racing heart. These disjointed images flitted in and out, creating a mosaic of fragmented reality. Awake, her body throbbed with pain; asleep, she plunged into a black abyss, time slipping away unnoticed. Each awakening brought the desire for oblivion as her mind plunged back into the depths of darkness.
Beth jolted upright, startled by the sharp bang of a car backfiring. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to sit up, her back and legs resisting her will. A woman, the same from her fleeting visions, hurried into the room with a damp cloth and a glass of water.
"Easy now," the woman spoke gently, her mild Spanish accent adding warmth to her sharp words as she pressed the cloth to Beth's forehead and helped her sit up, "you're weak, rushing won't do you any favours. The sooner you regain strength, the sooner you can move."
A man, the one with the odd expression in her visions, appeared in the doorway once again; "and the sooner we can leave this place, I'm sick of it." He grumbled, striding away with urgency and frustration. His steps were heavy and fraught with agitation, each one seeming to leave a deep imprint on the ground beneath him. His grumbling was like distant thunder, punctuated by the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.
"Don't mind my brother," the woman interjected sharply, "it's not you - he hates everyone." Hate, Beth pondered, wondering what she might have done to earn his disdain.
"Are you hungry?" The woman stood, walking to the other side of the room to adjust another pillow behind Beth's back. Beth nodded; "I'll get you some soup."
Left alone, Beth surveyed the room - beige walls, a shattered TV, torn brown curtains. She squinted at the notepad on the side table, revealing the branding - Mill Village Motel Eatonville. The coffee pod machine at the room's far end, covered in dust, hinted at a neglected past.
"You're awake," startled, Beth turned to find the man with the furrowed brow at the door - tall and dark, with piercing brown eyes, he appeared softer now, "how are you feeling?" Beth managed a brief smile before adjusting herself, wincing in pain. He rushed to offer a hand, and she took his arm to shift as he adjusted the pillow.
"Want to give walking a try?" The man's warm, brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her, his features etched with concern, his furrowed brow now smooth and his brown eyes sparkled with an unfamiliar kindness.
She shook her head, and the woman returned with soup and water; "she needs to eat before attempting to walk, Austin," she said, setting the tray before Beth.
"Then we'll try again tomorrow," Austin expressed, heading towards the door, "the sooner we leave, the better - we've been here for too long." His footsteps echoed with determination and authority, less frustrated than the other man's but equally resolute.
"I apologise if it's cold. Heating options are limited here. Need a hand?" The woman offered. Beth shook her head, the pounding of her headache resonating through her body.
"Well I'll leave you to it then. Shout out if you need anything, if you can talk at all." Beth glanced down at her bowl of soup, parting her lips as if to speak, but no words escaped. A deep sigh escaped from the woman's mouth as she turned and left the room, leaving Beth alone with her cold, untouched meal. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of muffed chatter outside.
The days stretched longer as Beth's need for rest diminished. Boredom and confusion settled in, intensifying as the people from her visions became tangible presences, moving in and out of her room. They attended to her needs but seldom engaged in conversation. At night, their muffled voices in the adjoining room became a distant comfort, and the faint echoes of their arguments a source of intrigue.
"We need to leave," a frustrated male voice pierced through the thin walls, "we have to head further south before winter traps us with little supplies and an extra mouth to feed - considering you're all so intent on keeping this girl alive."
"This woman," a familiar female voice retorted, likely the one who had been caring for her, "needed help - I distinctly remember a time when I wasn't doing well and needed it too."
"You're my sister, of course, I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I'm not talking about you, Luis," she yelled, "I'm talking about before you came back from Minnesota and found me."
"Why can't we just leave her here with some supplies and a gun. Why do we need to bring her with us?"
"Jesus Christ Luis we're not leaving her here alone and you two can have it out later," intervened another man, "but Luis is right - we need to leave before the snow settles in."
The argument faded into muffled voices again, and Beth strained to catch the words exchanged between the trio. A knock at the door startled her.
"May I come in?" A young girl, the same from her visions, had opened the door quietly without her even noticing. "I thought the yelling might have woken you." Beth nodded, maintaining her silence.
"I'm Chantelle." Her soft Southern accent flowed like a gentle breeze through a cornfield. She pulled up a chair beside the bed. "Luis can get into it with everybody, but he means well. Well, no, that's a lie. I don't know why I said that. He's a dick."
"I gathered," Beth whispered and laughed a little, suddenly overtaken by a violent cough.
Chantelle rushed to hand her water; "so, you do speak. From the way Austin and Val were sayin' it, it sounded like you were mute. I thought, you couldn't be deaf because you've been nodding and smiling like a dang puppet."
Beth laughed and took another sip; "I didn't really have anything worth saying until now. No one has bothered to make conversation."
"Your accent, where are you from?" Chantelle sat down on the wooden chair, her long dark hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled with kindness as she looked towards Beth.
"Australia," Beth paused, realising she hadn't thought about home for a while, "I'm from Australia," she repeated.
Chantelle pulled out a deck of cards; "well, I figured you might be bored and needed a little human interaction that didn't make you feel like you were in a hospital."
Beth's eyes lit up, and Chantelle smiled; "what do you want to play?"
— — —
"What do you think you are doing?" Austin stormed into the motel room.
"We're leaving. Today," Luis' words cut through the air.
"The van's still in bad shape, and we won't survive this winter on foot." Austin's arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging with tension. His jaw was clenched, and his brows furrowed in frustration.
"Then fix the damn van!" Luis yelled, the sound piercing through the walls and resonating outside the motel room for others to hear the heated exchange.
"Oh, sorry, I'll just take it down the road to the mechanic, shall I?" Austin raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking at his friend. The men paused their argument, exchanging laughter.
"Luis, what's going on with you?" Austin softened his tone, taking a seat on the other bed. "We've been friends since high school, grew up together, served in the army together. This isn't you."
"I don't know, man." Luis sat on the other bed, facing his friend, his face buried in his hands. He rubbed his face hard, threw his head back, and sighed heavily. "This just isn't—" he paused.
"Isn't what?"
"Isn't life." Luis gestured around the room.
"We'll get to the coast, find a boat, just like we planned." There was a slight taste of bitterness in the air, as if Austin's mild frustration was tangible.
"And then what?"
"Do the best we can," Austin stood up, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "we all have our dark moments, brother. You helped me get through mine, I'll help you get through yours."
Austin walked out of the motel room into the crisp morning air. The atmosphere was fresh, with a subtle scent of dew and grass. The sweet aroma of winter's imminent arrival filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of burning oil from their broken down van across the parking lot.
"Ben thinks he can fix the van by tomorrow. He found the parts we need on the other side of town." Val caught Austin as he had walked outside.
"He went scouting alone?" Austin looked across the lot at Ben, deep into the hood of the black church van they had found a while back.
Chantelle bounded up before she could answer; "Beth seems much better today. She's eatin' and drinkin' more. I think she could try walkin' today."
"Beth?" Val and Austin remarked in unison.
"Mmm, she speaks - she might have a lot more to say if either of you bothered to converse with her instead of just talkin' to her." She walked off towards Ben, a light air in her hopeful stride.
— — —
Austin found Beth sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet bare and dangling idly over the side. Her toes were curled, squeezing them tightly as she wiggled them back and forth. Her face was tense with concentration as she tried to alleviate the tingling sensation in her feet.
"Beth." His voice was soothing and calming, his words spoken with a gentle tone as he tried to ease Beth's discomfort.
"Chantelle?" She looked up at him, as he nodded, smiling gently. "She's a good kid." She smiled and looked back at her toes.
"Do you want to try walking today?" He walked towards the chair on the other side of the room and sat down as it creaked underneath the weight of him.
"The sooner I can walk, the sooner you can get out of here." She said with a sarcastic air, mocking Luis.
"The sooner we can get out of here." He repeated sarcastically with a smile, a light spread of jest washing over him as he joined her in mocking his friend.
"Your friend Luis seems to be very against bringing me along with you." She looked back at him.
"I'm not in the business of leaving people behind. Especially in Washington in the middle of October," he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, "you wouldn't survive the winter."
"Then maybe you should have just left me to die." She turned her body to face him abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected before he could respond.
"Why did you help me? You don't know me, why did you even bother?"
"Like I said, Beth," he stood up, his wistful tone switching back to cold and dry, "I'm not in the business of leaving people behind." He walked over to her slowly.
"I've lost too many people. I've watched people kill others over a can of soup. I've seen friends leave friends behind to save themselves," he sat down on the end of her bed, "I don't leave people behind."
His brown eyes cut through his words like a thunderstorm. She looked at his face, tired and weathered from sleepless nights with one eye open to ensure his group's safety. She pegged him as their leader - strong and determined with clear military training.
"What happened to you?" She asked softly.
"What happened to you?" He countered; "I refuse to believe you survived a pandemic alone for six months in a foreign country."
She said nothing and looked back at her feet. They sat in silence for a while before he stood up and headed for the door.
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. We need to head south before it's too cold, and we don't know how long the van or the car will last, so part of that might be on foot."
"I'll try walking today." Beth nodded obediently.
"I'll send Val and Chantelle in to help you." He replied, his voice maintaining the cold cadency.
"Thank you." She smiled, wriggling her toes as the numbness started to dissipate. Before he could leave, she looked up at him again.
"Austin?" He stopped at the door and turned to her. "I know you've all done a lot for me, including putting your friendship with Luis on the line, so thank you. But I have a favour to ask," her voice grew quiet, "before we leave."
"What is it?" He asked sternly at her audacity to ask for another favour.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He noticed her green eyes glisten with the added layer of acridity and the change in her demeanour; "before we leave, I need you to help me bury my husband."

I'm an 18-year-old guy, and I recently finished up my first year of university. I've had a lot of free time lately since I don't start working for another week, and I stumbled upon some blackpill/incel content online. Since then, it's been about 3 weeks, and I can easily say that whatever confidence I've built up over the last few years has been completely burnt down.
For reference, I'm about 173 cm (5'8) and live in America. I've been weightlifting and working out consistently for 2 years, and am in good shape. I'm South Asian and grew up in a pretty diverse neighborhood, so I didn't feel too out of place because of my race for the most part. Around 20 days ago, I stumbled upon the and ExposingHeightism subreddits because I saw a TikTok making fun of guys around my height. I don't think I've had serious issues about my relatively short stature up until now, primarily because I haven't started dating seriously and have been extremely occupied with hobbies (chess, politics, comp sci, reading, etc). After watching some of the content here, I feel like I've become addicted to it, and I feel like all my free time is spent watching more and more content about how unattractive my height is. Seeing TikToks and tweets online making fun of guys my height and shorter, and also how many women find short men repulsive has seriously damaged my confidence. Along with that, seeing statistics about how many women put up height requirements in online dating and about how many of them find tall men attractive has made me super insecure about my masculinity as a whole. I feel like I've seen so many TikToks where women around my age view men shorter than them, or just shorter in general as subhuman. I've spent so much time drowning in this incel content that it's the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. I've thrown all my hobbies out the window to stay up late and wallow in this depressive content. I'm addicted, and I've spent countless hours over the last few days consuming this content.
I've been constantly comparing myself to other people. I find myself searching up celebrity heights just for the sake of it. I've brought up height so much in casual conversations that my friends and family are starting to pick up on this crippling insecurity. I find myself trying to fix my posture and stand up as straight as possible when I'm around my close friends, just to feel like I'm almost at their eye level. All of them are taller than me (around 182+ cm, 6'0 and up) and it has taken a serious drag at my perspective of masculinity and how people perceive me. I'm constantly thinking about height and feel like I have reduced myself and the people around me to that, and nothing else. I feel as if height is so important, and there's nothing I can do about it. I seriously think being tall is one of the greatest genetic gifts, and it pains me that I will never experience it. To all of you wondering, there is no chance I will get taller as well, my mom is only 4'11, and my dad is 5'4.
A lot of my taller friends (190+ cm, 6'3 and up) have talked about how nice it is to be tall and how much it has positively impacted their dating experience. I haven't even started talking to girls seriously, I've never been on a date, and haven't had my first kiss. I feel like my ethnicity and looks are going to be a huge shortcoming when I start doing so, and I already know that when I get rejected it's going to take me down completely. I used to be confident in myself, happy, and viewed the world and myself optimistically. Now, I've scared myself into believing that dating and finding serious relationships is gonna be a huge struggle, that I'm too ugly to feel good about myself, and that I'll never be good enough. I feel like I can't even look at myself in the mirror without tearing up. My recent obsession with height, facial attractiveness, dating statistics, blackpill content, and the incel movement has transformed me from an extremely happy teenager to a guy that sits in my bed all day feeling depressed and horrible about myself. How can I get myself out of this rabbit hole?
tl;dr: I (18M) consumed a bunch of blackpill/incel content regarding height and looks and now can't take myself seriously. Feeling very insecure and looking for advice.

I was at work when I suddenly felt really bad heartburn and feeling really bloated and gassy. I had two bowel movements at work and was still in extreme discomfort and pain so I went home thinking I had to just get it out. I hadn’t eaten anything all day except the pre workout drink I mixed with an “essential greens” powder before I went to the gym at 6am.
It wasn’t until 2p that I remembered I had added apple cider vinegar to my pre workout drink (my estimate is I probably used at least three teaspoons. Eventually got the gassiness under control and now the only symptom I have left is consistent with severe GERD. I feel like the apple cider vinegar probably burned the lining of my stomach. I’ve since taken some Tums and drinking plenty of water. I also wear a rib brace around my stomach and ribs tightly during my workout and I feel like that contributed by letting the pre workout sit up “higher” in my stomach from the compression.
If I go to urgent care would they be able to prescribe something that would help with the burning? I have no history with heartburn and don’t normally consume ACV. TIA. This is miserable!

His ex sent me this message. Sorry it’s so long! Has anybody else gotten a similar message in the past? How did you react?
Message below: “It’s been over a year of me wondering whether I should just come out and ask you or message you… but being afraid that if I do, and I’m wrong, it’ll be a the biggest mistake of my life. I have begged and begged him to tell me what you are to him, and he denies having anything more than a platonic friendship with you.
I want to preface this message with, I have no ill will towards you, I just want some answers… answers I don’t believe I’m going to get from Jared. I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything about me. So here goes…
November 2022, I sent Jared an email, telling him I loved him, missed him, and though I didn’t require a response back, I wanted him to know how sorry I was for everything that had happened and things had ended. He responded with a lengthy email telling me he still fervently loved me and how he too was sorry for how things had ended. That email lead to the last year and a half of events.
December 2022, I drove down to Roanoke and surprised him at the Carilion garage. He left the hospital as fast as he could that night, and we spent the rest of that evening together, catching up, and he left for Key West two days later. Two weeks later, he came up to DC and we had a late birthday celebration for him at Clyde’s in Georgetown and went to see A Christmas Carol at the Ford Theater. A few weeks later we drove to Jersey to see Matchbox20, by now it was the end of January 2023. Almost every week off, for the last year, he would come up and see me, if even for only two days, or I would drive down to Roanoke and spend the week with him. We spoke about our past, the hurt, and future, he told me numerous times that when he pictured marriage and children, it was only with me, but he needed time. This part is important, and I’ll come back to it later. We celebrated my birthday at a restaurant in Navy Yard, two weeks before you guys left for London. Chris video chatted with that night while we were at the restaurant eating Wagyu, and they discussed the new shipment of sunglasses Chris had gotten for Miggieswear.
The weekend of the Super Bowl, he had come seen me earlier that week, the day after he left I came to Roanoke and left the day of the Super Bowl. He told me his parents were having a viewing party and he had to go home and cook. I’m now assuming he left my Airbnb and came to your place.
That February he planned a trip to London, with Nicole, Ryan and Chris, and what he told me were, Nicole’s “friends.” Nicole happened to post a picture of you guys sitting on the plane and I was shocked, why would Nicole’s friend be sitting between him and Ryan. I sent him a message while you were on that 6 hour flight, telling him that if he had been seeing somebody, then why didn’t he tell me? There was no point in us spending time together if he had moved on. His response to me was “do you even know what you’re looking at? I’m surprised you don’t recognize her, that’s Nicole’s friend. You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions right now and don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something in my gut didn’t believe it but I wanted to trust that, so I did. I put you out of sight, out of mind. When he got back, he told me how he wished I’d been there with him, we both love history and old buildings, it’s a place we would have found magical together. I don’t know who came up with the idea of going to London, but part of me always thinks I’m the one who put it there when I shared the pictures i had taken when I went there the year we had been no contact.
We went to a Kenny Chesney concert in Charlottesville that March when I got back from my family trip to India, and he got back from London. Between work, us both traveling with our families, we were excited to see one another. We were going to go to St Augustine, but because of the weather, we stayed in Roanoke and saw Kenny Chesney in Charlottesville. The original plan had been to spend the night in Charlottesville at a hotel, but we couldn’t get one last minute so we ended up driving back to Roanoke and sneaking into the basement at his parents house and sleeping in his bed at 3am.
A few months later, we went to Richmond, and stayed the weekend, exploring the city, and watched Hamilton at the Altria Theater. A few months after that, we went to Savannah and Atlanta, where he got a flat tire driving into the garage, and spent the rest of the weekend at a yoga retreat. July, he asked me to go to Boston with him and his brother, for 4th or July weekend, but I couldn’t because my siblings were in town. Every single week, he came down and either stayed with me, or made a quick trip to spend time with me…
This past September, I found out he took you to Justin’s wedding, and I broke. I needed more from him. I have known him, been intimate with him, shared my every fear, worry, I have brought him home cooked meals from DC and surprised him at work with dinner, I’ve made him care packages. I’ve made Ryan Easter baskets and sent him birthday presents and encouraged Jared to put him in academic classes, I’ve helped Jared look into private schools for Ryan, and weighed the pros and cons of the options. I had no expectations in return from him other than, at the very least, a mutual respect and HONESTY.
I’ve seen him quite a few times since September and I last saw him in Roanoke at the beginning of March 2024. We sat in front of each other, in his car before he went into work that Monday night, and he told me, again, that when he thinks of marriage and a future, I’m the only one he pictures a marriage and children with. I’m not saying this to hurt you, or to make a point, I’m saying it because i don’t know what to believe anymore.
I became suspicious of his relationship with you, when he mentioned going to Macchu Picchu and hiking through the mountains. As all women have the ability to find out details they might later regret, I did the same thing. Except I didn’t believe he had actually gone to Macchu Picchu. I knew his passport had been long expired since around or before COVID, and I knew he had renewed it before he went to London. But that was when I realized you were the girl in the photo that Nicole posted. When I confronted him about Macchu Picchu, he told me he had been joking and he had also already told me he’d been joking. He had NEVER told me it was a joke, he had actually refused to show me photos when I asked him for pictures from the trip… he had then proceeded to change the topic, which is what had even raised red flags in my head.
My point is, I have asked him point blank so many times whether you two have a relationship. You tell me you still love me, that you picture marriage and a family with me, but this girl is a part of your life, and you took her to a wedding with you, while I was on a trip with my siblings, you took her to London with you, and you continue to tell me she’s just a friend. I asked him again on Tuesday night/Wednesday Morning after he left work, if you two are dating, and he said no. He asked me why I’m so hyper-fixated on somebody who’s just a friend when he has a million other female friends.
In September, he told me he needed a month to clear his head, that he wanted to commit to me, but he was afraid and that he needed to get over the fear and roadblock of our past break up. I gave him grace and understood. So we took a 4 week break. Some time during that time period, he sent me a snap of doves, and said “doves, and swans mate for life.” He sent me Ed Sheeran songs telling me he wants to find his way back to me. “No Strings Attached… you are the one I love”
In November, he messaged me and told me he had a surprise for me and to look for something in the mail. He loves the Count of Monte Carlo, it’s one of his favorite movies, and he told me it was in reference to that. A few weeks later I got a candle, a silver 400 dollar Buddha candle from Thomson Ferrier. I didn’t understand the reference to the Count of Monte Carlo, but it was a beautiful gesture and present… especially because he knew how much little gestures from him mean to me.
Fast forward to January, I got another 350 dollar black skull candle from him, from Thomson Ferrier. At this point I was upset, angry and livid. I called my sister in tears that evening. I had come back to him because he told me he loved me, that he “has a fire that burns so deeply” when he thinks of me. If i had known that wasn’t true, i would have closed the chapter a year and a half ago. I don’t want $700 worth of gifts and candles, I want more. I want marriage, I want children, I want our lives to move forward, I want communication. Out of anger, I packed up the candle, his sweatshirts and clothes that he had left at my place this past year, and mailed them back to his house. I’m sure it’s sitting somewhere in his basement closet/ bedroom… along with his white Huq sweatshirt, a picture of us I had up in my house, and various articles of clothing.
What upsets me is that he didn’t just involve me this year, he involved my family. He sent my mom presents, my parents in return sent him gifts. My sister, parents and cousins messaged him asking him to come around more. There was no point in involving my family, if he was going to involve himself with you. There was no point in involving himself with me, if he was going to involve himself with you. Those leather Indian shoes sitting in his room, my dad bought those for him. That blue sweater, those green pants and that maroon shirt, my parents bought those for him just this last year.
I don’t know what he’s told you about me, but I will say this. I was your age when we started dating. I was 29 years old. He was single, that’s what everyone in our residency program thought. He would tell everyone how Shari left him one day, all of a sudden just got up and left. “I saw the look behind her eyes just change when she looked at me.” He would tell everyone his horrific dating stories. When i started dating him, there was no doubt in my mind he was single… but I was wrong. He wasn’t single, he was dating Devon, one of the nurses from Carilion, and he had been for the past 4 years prior to that. At one point when he moved to Norfolk, she had even moved in with him. Even Shari was visiting him in Norfolk during this time period. I would have never suspected it, nobody in our residency program did. It wasn’t until one day, when he told me his friends were visiting from home, and they were all going to a concert together, that I found out. Her profile picture was of the two of them together, and her Facebook relationship status said “in a relationship.” Out of my own naivety, i believed him when he told me she was crazy and obsessed with him. He told me, to him, they were just friends but she wanted more. Women do a lot of things, but no woman is dumb enough to think she’s your girlfriend when she’s not. When we moved back to our hometowns, Devon was there waiting for him. He disappeared one day for 24 hours, told me that he was helping his dad’s friend who was stranded in NC. A year and a half later, i would find out that was a lie and that he had been at a concert Florida Georgia Line concert with her. She had been visiting his grandmother with him, staying at his parents home. The irony is that a few weeks after he took her, he took me to the same concert in Scranton. Him and his family didn’t bat an eye when a month later, I showed up and was the “new girlfriend.”
Eventually Devon found out about his lies and left him, but again, stupid me thought she was a crazy girl who just wanted so badly to be with him, that she built their relationship up in her head.
Dignity, respect for humans, empathy, are the most important qualities in a human being.
What I don’t wish is for you to be in my spot in 5 years. He will paint you in his colors, make you fall in love with MB20, and take you to Augustana concerts, he’ll tell you that you understand him, and his heart in a way that nobody else does. He’ll bond with you over music, and send you songs that make you feel he’s talking about you. He is so good at making you feel seen, and involving you with his family. He’ll say he had a vision of a girl that looks like you, coming into his life, and here you are, his soul mate. And one day, the same way that Shari, Devon and I got lost in him, the reality of everything will come pouring down on you. Be careful, there are signs between the lines, and the smiles, and good times. Make sure you don’t miss those, whatever you decide.
My relationship with him, started off just like yours. Another girl on the periphery, and teetering the line of inappropriate. Everything you call him out on, will always have an excuse, and you will believe him because he’s the “good guy” who goes above and beyond for people.
I don’t wish for any woman to go through the pain I’ve gone through, the manipulation, the lies and the emotional abuse. I can’t tell you what to do, but I will say, be careful and don’t be blind to the small things that will one day become huge. The novelty will fade, and though Jared isn’t the devil, he has a lot of growing up to do at 40. It was not okay to toy with me and drag me through the mud this year. It wasn’t okay to minimize his relationship with you and lie to me about it. It’s not okay to, to this day claim to see a life with me and not commit to it. I deserve better, and you deserve better.
How men talk about their ex’s and other women is an indication about how they will one day talk about and treat you. That is the worst and best lesson i have learned. I’m 34, years of my life wasted, and he took another year of my life knowing full well, this is how it would end. He’s sat on the phone with me for hours talking about how stupid PA’s are and if you were going to not be a doctor, at least become an NP, who has better bedside knowledge. Why would he say that, because i suppose you’re a PA and it minimizes the significance of even having a relationship with somebody who isn’t as intelligent as he is. The lack of respect will always be there, you just have to look for it.
Dishonesty, and manipulation are a plague, and if that’s who you are at 40, it is who you will always be unless you recognize that something needs to change. Where there is no accountability, there can be no change. I’m not the exception, I’m the same as the two girls before me. He’ll show you text messages where he never responded to me, even though he replies on Snapchat where every thing is erased. I cannot believe i didn’t see the signs. He will make me look crazy and laugh at me, the same way he showed me messages from Jen, and Elisabeth, and Devon, and made them sound crazy to me. I guess that’s his MO. The same way he told me you were nothing to him.
I was going to send you this message, two months ago… i then decided not to because he convinced me he wasn’t dating you… I saw him less than a month ago in Roanoke, i begged him to tell me that he was in a relationship with you. He said he wasn’t, again, he told me he was going to a wedding alone with only Ryan and that he wasn’t taking you. I then begged him to tell me that we were done and that he didn’t love me anymore. His response was idk what’s going to happen a year from now, i know I’ll see you again. His response every time has been when im ready for a relationship, emotionally, do you want me to finally let you know? I don’t care to be with him anymore. I’m so over it but i really think you should know the type of person you’re dealing with.
He has put me through so much hell for a year and a half of my life, stringing me along acting like he’s doing me a favor while he works on his own mental health and claims to still love me when we are together.”
TLDR: my SO’s ex messaged me saying he’s been seeing both of us for the past year and a half. Has anybody experienced this before. She sent me pictures from the past year of them and their text exchanges

For reference :)
I want to say thank you for all of you who helped me, you all gave me excellent perspectives and I really love you all for it. Happy to report that I did not go to his graduation. I felt guilty for a bit because you only graduate a few times, but why support someone who doesn’t respect you lol. I did politely let him know he was out of line and that our friendship can’t go forward. Ultimately, you all were right, no REAL friend would sexualize me like this.
Some of you asked how I hide my chest so well, so I’m here to share my big boobie gal secrets for ya :) ❤️ My biggest tip is to avoid bras with those huge moulded, padded cups. All they do for me is add volume to my chest.
My holy grail bra is the Celestine bra from Adore M in a 32H for $24!!! I had the luxury of going into one of their stores to try on a couple styles. This bra fits like a SOCK. The cups are stretchy so even when I get period boobs, they still fit. Downside, they’re never in stock and I bully their instagram daily because of it.
Significantly more expensive but so worth it to me is the Chantelle Norah Chic underwire bra in a 32H for $84 :(. BUT girlies I’m telling you, go to Nordstrom, try this one on and your back pain will be GONEEEE. Slight padding for the nips, straps are also padded, and you can hardly feel the elastic on the band.
My go to everyday lounging bra is this $10 Hanes wireless bra in a Medium. Definitely not for long term wear as there’s hardly support but nice when you’re home and don’t wanna wear a wire. Super stretchy, I was shocked when it fit me, I have 4 lol.
Bikinis are my enemy but I found one this year I was really surprised by. TRUST ME HERE!!! This Victoria Secret bikini&cmmmc=PLA--GOOGLE--VSD_VS_Swim_PMAX--&gad_source=1&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIhOyK_5z8hQMVBZpaBR2MSgZGEAQYASABEgLiNvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds) in a 34DDD fits me like a dream!!!! Straps are adjustable and the band is adjustable through some strings. Their bands are quite small, a 34 gave me better side boob coverage. I got it for $30 on sale and the bottoms are cheap too!
For sports bras, this popflex one is incredible! I tried a small and a medium, the fabric is so stretchy- I fit well in both but I like the tighter feel of the small when I’m exercising.
HONORABLE MENTION: since I wear bras with no padding most of the time, nips show through often. These nipple covers are the only ones worth their money. They don’t leave that dumb ring around your nipple under your clothes LMFAO
BONUS TIP: idk about you guys but I get tons of acne on my back and shoulders where my bra sits all day. The Everyday Brightening Body Wash has been the only thing that’s tamed my acne.
PSSSSSSS - the green dress is from H&M for 12.99!!! I’m wearing a small :)
I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what works for me and this list is all I’ve got LOL. I’m happy you all find me stylish and have been so sweet to me. I hope this helps some of you out the way you guys help me!!! ❤️