Parents bar mitzvah speech

a 27 year old male living in the uk. My mental health hasn’t been great the last 10 years, and it has got significantly worse in the last two years. I have always had severe anxiety and depression. Although never diagnosed. All my life, I have been very insecure about who I was. I believe I am dumb, ugly, unlovable and unworthy. As a result I never really made an effort with anything. I never had any dreams or aspirations. I never dated or formed quality friendships. I don’t even have a career. I am a working a dead end warehouse job and I don’t see a positive future for myself.
Growing up I did poorly at school and never really excelled at anything. I could never find something I was good at and always felt incompetent. I have issues managing stress and every task overwhelms me.
I have self image issues and hate the way I look. I hate going out in public especially in the summer due to body issues. I am slim and struggle to gain weight. I also started balding very young and had severe acne growing up. I have blown thousands on fixing my appearance. Skin treatments, personal trainers, new clothes and eyebrow grooming. I have nothing to offer I might as well be pretty lol. 0 savingsa and now money issues. Tbh I still feel crap about my looks. Money wasted I guess…
To make matters worse, I have a speech impediment (stammer) that makes speaking incredibly difficult. I am so ashamed of my stammer that I hardly talk, and as a result have no friends or close connections. I feel so lonely. I never dated or had any romance. I am a closeted gay from religious Muslim family. I didn’t come to terms with my sexuality till age 22. I want to experience love. I honestly feel like I missed out. I am nearly 30 and it feels as if I will never meet anyone. Every guy I talk to I push them away, because I don’t feel good enough. I have hurt so many guys by ghosting them or blocking. I feel too ugly, dumb and unaccomplished in life. Who wants to date some loser 27 year old? With a stutter, no proper career and 0 friends.
Sad reality is I put myself here. My actions and decisions in life lead me here. I was weak and I allowed life to fuck me up. I have missed out on so much living. From age 16 to now it’s like I have been dead. Just a walking flesh. I pity my parents for having a son like me. But I resent them for just watching me become a car wreck. I don’t know if I have autism or adhd. Something is wrong with me. I have always felt different. I struggle with focusing on everything. Today I broke down in tears in my room. I feel anger, bitter and broken. I hate myself tbh. I have no purpose. I have reached my breaking point. Rock bottom. 27 years of rubbish. I don’t think I will ever be happy. I am not 18 or 21 it’s too late for me to get my life together. I can’t sleep at night and wake up with panic attacks because of how life has turned out. Writing this with tears as a grown man because I so desperately want out of my situation but I don’t know how….

This is going to be a long one so I suggest sitting down and eating a snack lol. This honestly starts back from kindergarten when I first met my boy best friend (21M) who I'll call Joey to keep things private. Joey and I grew up together, we've lived across the street from each other for the past 15 years. I would say our friendship didn't start to pick up till the 4th grade. It was me, Joey, My brother (18M), Tom ( 21M), Diana (21F), and Joey's little brother (18M). Diana was my best friend the girl I hung out with everyday and spent all my time with, shared secrets with. Tom was that type of person to joey. Joey and I have always had some form of mutual crush towards each other and I honestly I believe it started in the 4th grade. Growing up our parents were best friends and to this day still are. So Joey and I spent a lot of time together, we would watch movies, go to the park, go on trips together, go to the the local community street and just hang out we spent all of our time together. The first time I told Joey I liked him was in 5th grade, I've always known I loved him, He was my first love, my first kiss, the first boy I cried about, the first boy who made me jealous although we never dated, there was a lot of first between us. Joey use to be really mean to me, would always make fun of me, constantly chase me, and just in general say mean things and always shut me down whenever I confessed my love to him. Everyone knew I liked him, I would never stop talking about it. Our friends would have us kiss during truth or dare or have us confess our love for each other. Thats just how it was growing up. In middle school is when things started to change and I started to get involved with other guys. It was nothing more than the middle school relationship, just people I liked. I can't remember exactly what summer it was but I believe it was 8th grade summer going into 9th grade when things between really started to pick up. During that summer our family went on 2 week long camping trip and joey and I got really close and he confessed his love for me, but nothing came from it and when we got back from that trip we shared our first kiss together during a scary movie we were watching at my house. After that there was nothing. I started high school and we really drifted apart. I remained with Diana and some other close friend while Joey made new friends and kept his distance. It was like that all of high school. But a lot happened during that time. I dated my first boyfriend who i broke up with within a year and I dated my second boyfriend who I broke up with 3 years ago. My second boyfriend is honestly the root cause to things getting messy. I started dating my second boyfriend at the end of 10th grade, and that summer I went on a trip and Joey and his family and some of my cousins. That trip joey and I flirted a lot, spent all our time together and just got really close. But when it was over it was if nothing had ever happened and I went on to continue dating my boyfriend. Without getting into too much details about my ex lets just say he was a horrible person who physically and mentally abused and manipulated me and basically turned me into the person I am today. He ruined a lot for me and he tore apart my friend group. Joey, Diana, and Tom all saw how much my ex was hurting me and they tried multiple times to get me out of the relationship but It just never really happened and things got messy. Joey continued to distance himself from me and Tom started to fill joey's mind with horrible thoughts about me which honestly really turned joey against me. The summer of 2021 is when I was finally able to escape my ex but the way it panned out wasn't good. My friends first tried to force me and joey to date even if It was as rebound, they used our history as an excuse to get me out of the relationship and well that didn't work. And a month later I tried to kill myself, I ended up in the hospital with 11 stitches in my wrist and lots of therapy. I ended up going back to my ex a few days later. Thats when I saw joey and tom distancing themselves and honestly they said some hurtful things to me. My now boyfriend is the reason I was able to leave the relationship. 3 days after I broke up with my ex, my best friend Diana got with him and yeah thats another story for another time. But basically to keep it simple after that happened they all left me and I was just left alone in pain with my now boyfriend picking up the pieces. Everything went well since then. I grew up and I really matured and got my life in order. But last week something unexpected happened. Joey entered my life again. I was at the bar with my parents when he arrived with his parents, I would be lying if I said I wasn't already drunk, But I was way drunk. And I got wasted even more after joey arrived. But we talked for hours that night and I found myself confessing my love for him all over again. And he started confessing his love and basically he had to carry me home cause I was wasted. I waited 10 years for this boy to tell me he loved me and now I don't know what to do. He went on to apologize for all the things that happened and how he was never there for me and he basically was just sorry. I kept asking him why he never dated me or why he never took the chance when I gave him chance after chance. And he told me he was jealous and mad at me for all the times I went out with other guys and he thought that I didn't genuinely care for him. I basically told him I felt like you constantly played with my feelings. Now I am in a relationship. A very loving relationship fully committed one too. We live together already. But after hearing joey's words and the things I said when I was drunk I feel so conflicted and have no idea where to go from there. Joey told me he would wait for me as long as he is still in love with me. He told me he's been in love with me for that past 14 years and that there's never been anyone else for him. He's never dated anyone the closest he's ever came to was me. My boyfriend knows some of the story he knows basically all the childhood drama and everything that happened, and he knows Joey is back in my life as a friend. I don't know if the love I had always had for joey is the same or if i'm acting based off old emotions. I don't want to hurt anyone but I know someone is gonna get hurt. And for more reference tom joined the marines and isn't really in anyones life atm and diana is getting her veterinarian license. Joey just graduated from college and is joining the army in 3 months. I am just focused on my career and planning out my future with my boyfriend. What should I do. Joey and I have talked a lot about just rebuilding our friendship and getting to know each other again because the last we talked like this was 6 years ago so we definitely have grown and matured since. I love my boyfriend but I worry I still love joey.
TL;DR! - To sum everything up my first love confessed he's still in love with my and is willing to wait for me as long as he loves me. I confessed I still loved him when I was drunk. But I am planning out my future with my boyfriend.

So for a bit of context, I (18M) need to begin 4 years before today when during the middle of covid lockdown in the UK my sister (28F) selfishly decided to bring her new boyfriend (27M) over who we had never met before to stay at my parent's house for a week given we had never talked to him and his first impressions such as not bringing gifts or a thank you gift for letting him stay his awful habits like lacking on personal hygiene. It is from here that my dislike for this chap began. He claimed to hold a senior position in the judiciary something we have since disproven given that no ceremony has occurred and he was only called to the bar a year prior meaning he couldn't hold the position he claimed to have. Recently after years of privately caring for my grandmother (102) now deceased alongside both my parents and my brother, we were saddened to hear of her death despite our best efforts in caring for her.
My sister at no stage helped us care for my grandmother and I should point out that I had been caring for her including with toiletries since I was 14. My sister hardly visited my grandmother despite living with us even when she was asked too and her boyfriend talked to my grandmother for less than 5 seconds leading to my grandmother referring to him publicly as a 'tight bastard'. Nevertheless without the permission of my parents invited him the funeral for 'emotional support' yet again i refer to my point that my sister actively avoided my grandmother despite her severe decline in health and now wants to actively defy my grandmothers preference for close family only at the funeral.
This week I am planning to confront my sister for overstepping the boundaries consistently only looking after herself and always making everything about herself regardless this included passing on all my information in regard to GCSE results, A-level grades and where im going to Uni to her boyfriend. Under this premise of confronting her and refusing to come back to my home for Christmas unless my parents stopped their preferential treatment of her over everyone else. For a bit of context on this treatment, my parents have previously allowed my sister to get away from stealing hundred's of pounds that I saved in a money box from the age of 8-13. In addition to openly calling me a mistake always letting my sisters boyfriend stay and catering to the every need of them.
I wouldn't have such an issue with them if they were honest with when they were staying and when they were leaving. and for instance the lack of transparency and her constant lies. This year I have already threatened my brother that unless my parents start calling out all my sister's stunts I will not return for Christmas when my sister and her boyfriend will be staying for a few weeks.
So in summary I know this was a bit of a ramble and I'm happy to clarify anything in the comments.
WIBTA

the title, the first one is about a failing musician getting called by his parent to help in their izakaya he met with a middle schooleelementary schooler I can't remember they just bond together like normal person unlike that certain usagi manga, the mc have 2 love interest his ex girlfriend who still have feeling and highschooler helper at the izakaya.
the second is about a office worker girl that have some problem in her work place, she got traumatized and become a neet shut in, the manga have some comedy and serious tone overall oh and the girl have white hair
the third one tells a young woman whos running her own bar(idk sometimes its a bar and a cart) named "satelite" she pretty sleepy and good at making drinks but the story is about a girl that make drinks for some costumer and bond with her fellow bartender friend. you can think of it as foodwars but about drink instead and there is no sexual foodgasm.
edit: sorry to add more but I ask this one another time I will defintely forget, its about a school getting a new girl janitor, the student would occasionally get help from but since the janitor only a human she would help her best. this is explored in one of the chapter where one of the student getting groped and the janitor help her, the student in awe because she saw that the janitor hand also shaking with fear but the janitor still go in and save her

My husband and I met in college and we ended up married a few years after. Six year into marriage, he says he regrets that he never got to really explore the bachelor life since we were together since mid college. He has had two partner before me. He was my only partner and I am perfectly content with that. Not too long after that he "jokingly" suggested an open marriage since it is what "everyone" is doing these days according to him and my heart sank. and said no. I wondered if I just wasn't hot enough or fun enough in bed or he was just getting bored of me - even though I always allow him enough space to himself. I mean I agreed to all his kinks in the past and I exercise religiously with weight lifting and yoga while eating very health diets so I am pretty darn fit. I always planned at least 2 date nights a month and always join in on his hobbies when he wants me to even though I have no interest like race car courses or the range. He was persistent with his request and made me feel back for not letting him enjoy his youth while he still had it. Eventually he broke me down and i begrudgingly agreed on a don't ask don't tell policy.
When it all started I didn't bother to partake. I just lived life as I did before except he would go out to more "boys night outs" and bars and I would see dating apps on his phone. After maybe 6 months into it, I eventually decided to go on dating sites since I was home alone at night more often during Fridays and I thought I might as well give it a try after my lady friends encouraged me to.
Fast forward a few months and now when I tell my husband I can't keep him company during his hobbies, he starts to get annoyed and want to know about what I am doing and when I just mention oh just a date. He demanded more details despite the don't ask, dont tell policy. And as months go by he get really mad and decided lets close the marriage. I actually met some really charming, nice men who actually seem to appreciate my company and really want to do things I want to do so I tell no and then the guilt tripping starts again. Now he says he wants a baby and I should stop this because it won't be good for our future children to grow up with parents doing this sort of stuff. When we got married he stated he never wanted kid and I said did but I am fine not having them as I would not want to have kids with a man who didn't want them.
AITAH for not agreeing to close the marriage and cutting all ties to everyone I met?

I’ve been struggling for a long time with my mother-in-law’s social media. She often uses it as a way to attack anyone who thinks/feels differently than her. She calls people libtards, praises the idea that women should just be moms, says racists things, and hateful speech towards LGBTQ+. Is very ugly towards progressive Christianity- saying you’re loving people to hell. It makes me so mad but I feel I can’t play victim card because I keep looking at her stuff instead of just ignoring it. When I was in my 20s I once got into an argument trying to stand up for others and she said I was loving people to hell. She also started reposting the verse Matthew 18:6 “if anyone one causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea” When we were supportive of her daughter coming out.
I have two kids now- age 4 and 5. I worry about them forming a close relationship and then feeling all this shame from her if they don’t turn out how “she wants them to.” My husband enjoys being around them because they are very kind in person. He also works for them and they’ve provided the family with a lot of money and it feels like a power dynamic is happening. Anywho; I always feel torn. I want to love them and have peace in the family, but I get so scared for my kids and don’t want them affected by this stuff when they get older. I also don’t think it’s fair that I go looking at this stuff either- if I wasn’t looking at her profile- I wouldn’t know. I guess I’m wondering what would you do? Should I got to therapy? I went for two years and had made progress but I don’t know how much I can do without my husband also being on board with how to handle our kids and how much they see them. I sometimes want to not go on trips but then I worry about not being there to protect my kids. I want to be a loving mom and make sure they don’t feel shame from their grandmother. I also want to support my husband in his relationship with his parents. But I also feel incredibly angry and upset by all the hate speech.

I think a lot of people are shocked by how pervasive and acceptable drinking and driving/underaged drinking is with these families.
I live in Alabama and in a completely different world from these people. I’m nearly 30 and I wouldn’t even order a drink while out for dinner with my family because it would freak my mom out, so I can’t at all relate to the casual drinking culture.
But, when I was in college (and still underage), I had a roommate from Boston. One game day weekend, I came home to a bunch of large burly men with thick Boston accents drinking bud lights in the middle of my dorm room, generally being boisterous. My roommates dad and dad’s friends were in town to visit for the game. It was crazy to 19 year old me because alcohol was not allowed in the dorms.
They were all very friendly/accepting and proud to show me what people in Boston were like. I was immediately offered a beer. They joked that they must be a surprise for me; something I wasn’t used to. Her dad shared with me his frustration with not being able to go bar to bar carrying drinks (this is apparently legal in Boston!). I immediately thought about this while watching the trial when John Okeefe took a glass out with him. And I think Nicole Albert took a white claw out with her. This must be normal.
During that game weekend, my roommate told her parents about her fake id. And her parents were excited! And they all went out drinking together that night. They had no qualms about underage drinking.
Honestly, they were lovely people. I was awkward, unsocialized, uptight, young. They did not hesitate to offer me a beer and offer to include me, even though I declined. The stance on underage drinking seems icky to me but I also know that some other countries have lower drinking ages and I try to respect differences in drinking culture.
Any Bostonians have any insight or commentary?

I’m aware that this is unconventional. Believe me, I’ve tried conventional – it didn’t end well for anyone. I require a certain open mindedness that I’m hoping I might find here, but more importantly, I need my future husband to know the rules. Meet-cutes are well and good on the screen, but they don’t guarantee a partner’s ability to follow basic instructions. That was my mistake the first time.
So, begging your pardon for my bluntness, I’m going to be clear about my requirements. Please read carefully – if you can’t meet them, there’s no point in going any further.

• Must want children. At least one child, anyway. I’m open to the idea of more, but one is an absolute must.
• Must be in it for the long haul. Until our child turns eighteen, to be precise. I understand that level of commitment is a daunting prospect, particularly when we have not yet met. After our child is born, you are welcome to ignore me, if you please, or take your pleasure elsewhere – though I will warn you that it might be difficult to come by. But you will live under my roof until our child is an adult.
• Homebody preferred. It will make the next two decades easier on you.
• Must have impeccable manners. I will provide a manual outlining the required etiquette, but you must at least have a grasp of basic courtesy to begin with. If you let your tongue run away with you, or don’t bother to wish your neighbours a good morning when you pass them in the street, stop reading – this is not the opportunity for you. Seriously.

This is the part where I should talk about myself, but let’s face it, this is hardly a romantic proposal. I require commitment up-front and there’s no guarantee that, once we do meet, we’ll really even like each other. If we do? Fantastic! It’ll help the years fly by. If we don’t, you’ll still have the main prize – years of rent-free, expenses-free living at The Old Oak Hotel.
A sanctuary has stood in this spot in one form or another since before the ley lines. During its tenure, it has been flooded, put to the flame, and pounded into dust. Time and again, it has been reimagined and rebuilt. Most of the current building dates back to Victoria’s reign, though the oldest parts were constructed in the 13^th century. At the very bottom of the garden, cut into the surrounding hills, there is a cave bearing handprints of red ochre.
There has always been an Edwards at the hotel, though of course we haven’t always gone by that name. You would think a family so tied to one place would do a better job of keeping records, but no one is certain of our origins. Perhaps it was a cosmic bargain, or perhaps mere luck – whether good or bad, I have never been able to decide. Either way, our presence is required. Throughout our spotty past, there’s a story here and there of an Edwards deserting their post, and it always coincides with a particularly brutal period of history.
I inherited the position five years ago. At midnight on my eighteenth birthday, my parents took their already-packed suitcases and left. I don’t blame them for their abandonment; I intend to one day do the same thing to my – or, hopefully, our – child.
They send me postcards and photos from time-to-time, always smiling on sunny beaches. Money isn’t a concern for them. That’s part of whatever mysterious deal our ancestors made – when a caretaker leaves in good-standing, they will never want for anything again. They could travel the world for the rest of their lives, always sleeping in the softest sheets and dining in the finest restaurants, and never find their pockets empty.
Keep this point in mind, for if you can meet my requirements, you will share my good fortune.
And what must we do in return? I can all but hear you scream the question. Why, very little. The presence of an Edwards ensures that the guests can’t stray from the hotel grounds. Most of our guests are live-in residents, though we do get the occasional walk-in. Where they come from, I don’t know, for we are not visible to most people who stumble upon our lonely corner of the world. I’ve come to believe the hotel chooses to reveal itself when its lacking entertainment, or to fill a need.
Jimmy, my first husband, was one such guest.
For the most part, the guests are harmless. They’ll give you a little fright from time-to-time, popping out from a wall or turning your bathwater into blood, but I find it hard to hold it against them. I’ve found twenty-three years here dreary; I can’t imagine how bored I would be after five hundred.
There are a few exceptions you should be aware of:

• Eric. Our resident serial murderer. He claims to have been Jack the Ripper while he still drew breath, but I think he’s just a blowhard. He knows better than to harm an Edwards, but I’m afraid spouses are fair game. Years ago, my grandmother managed to confine him to the fourth floor, so you will be perfectly safe from him as long as you never set foot there. Occasionally, the lift will stop on that floor even though you haven’t pressed the button for it. Do not get out. Even if the lift appears to be on fire or starts filling with murky water. Wait for the doors to close again, then go to another floor. It should only take a few hours.
• The Thing in the Cellar. I don’t know what It is; no one ever has. We only know It eats rats and must be fed once a day. If I’m ever ill or incapacitated, this task will fall to you. Harvest the rats from the traps in the garden, then stand at the cellar door and throw them down the stairs. Do not walk down the stairs and do not forget to feed It. You don’t want to be the first person to see Its’ face.
• Mrs Jones. Old fashioned and a stickler for manners, she’s the reason I’m advertising for a husband rather than a boyfriend. She won’t abide a couple living in sin under the same roof as her. Really, though, she’s a sweet old thing. Full of stories about the war and always ready to help if I get stuck on a recipe. I don’t blame her for what happened with Jimmy at all. I’d warned him enough times.

Guests aside, there are other rules you will need to follow to ensure a safe, satisfactory stay at The Old Oak Hotel. They are listed in a book that has been re-penned many times over the centuries. If you choose to accept this opportunity, I will insist that you read it until you can recite the pages word-for-word.
However, there are some rules so critical for your survival that I feel compelled to list them here:

• With the exception of the fourth floor, you are welcome to roam the hotel and its grounds as you please. But you must never set foot outside of our land – not until our child is old enough to fulfil their duties. If I were to do so, it would unleash pandemonium – plague, peril, perhaps another world war. I’m afraid you would be less crucial to the fate of the world, but it would certainly be a personal disaster.
• Never look in the mirrors in room 33.
• I’ve touched this point already, but it bears repeating: never be rude to Mrs Jones.

Failure to observe that last rule is what got Jimmy.
She doted on him. I think he reminded her of her long-dead son, for she pampered him as if he were one of her own. Each morning, she had breakfast ready for him before I had so much as opened my eyes, and she developed a habit of trailing along after him, complimenting his skill as he oiled rusted hinges or set a crooked picture straight.
At first, Jimmy basked in the attention. But by the end of his second month, he was growing bored of Mrs Jones, me, and the hotel itself. We pride ourselves on our facilities. If you need more activity than a turn around the garden, we have a lovely indoor pool – it freezes over every now and then, but most of the time it’s perfectly usable. Our library is unmatched. Although the room is cramped, it has every book imaginable; you only need to think of a particular title, and it will appear on one of the shelves. And now that I’ve dragged us kicking and screaming into the 21^st century, we have a wide array of streaming services.
It wasn’t enough for Jimmy. He wanted to go out – eat in a restaurant, watch a film in the cinema, see any faces other than the ones he was surrounded by every day. He began having a drink each evening. One drink turned into several, and after a few weeks, the bar became his permanent residence between dusk and midnight.
He wasn’t the only one getting bored. I had been thrilled when he first arrived; ecstatic when he agreed to stay. How marvellous to feel real flesh beneath my fingers after five years of only the dead for company. What a relief to have some assistance in the many tasks required to keep the hotel running as it should.
The more he drank, the less inclined he was to help – or even spend time in my company. He no longer visited my bed, choosing a room for himself on the opposite end of the floor. When our paths did cross, at best he would ignore me. At worst, he would nitpick or outright rail against me, blaming me for his captivity.
Still, I made an effort to be present whenever he frequented the bar. As lovely as Mrs Jones can be, she does have a tendency to nag. Before and after her death, she was close to teetotal, only consenting to take a single sherry at Christmas, and drinking outside of special occasions is something of a bugbear of hers.
“Think of your health, dear,” she would tell Jimmy brusquely. “You’ll miss it when it’s gone.”
Or, “How about we switch to a nice apple juice now? You’ve had quite enough to drink for one night.”
Most of the time, Jimmy managed to pull himself together enough to flash a charming smile and distract her with a compliment about her latest meal. But after one drink too many, I’d noticed him gritting his teeth and just barely managing to hold his tongue.
It was better if I was present. Playing the doting wife, I insisted on pouring his drinks, watering them down out of his sight. When Mrs Jones’s nagging bordered on relentless, I could always distract her with a game of gin rummy.
On his final day, I was running behind. The ghoul on the second floor – usually the least demanding of our guests – had come down with some dreadful illness, or else decided he wanted to inconvenience me. Either way, I had woken that morning to the foulest stench I had ever experienced. I followed it to his room and found every surface covered in putrid green-blank gunge, its consistency somewhere between mucus and vomit.
All day I scrubbed, taking only brief breaks to step outside before I fainted. By the time the room was restored to a passable state, and I had filled several bin bags to bursting with filthy rags, it was already deep into the night. Mindful of the time, I paused only long enough to wash the streaks of muck from my arms and face before racing to the bar.
I arrived just in time to hear Jimmy’s last words. After he spat them at Mrs Jones, she only stared for a small eternity, her mouth frozen in the motherly smile she wore whenever she scolded him.
Then, like melted wax, her face began to shift.
I shouted at Jimmy to run, but he didn’t need to be told. Before the words left my mouth, he leapt from his barstool and streaked through the door. Mrs Jones followed him seconds later. Her lips were already peeling back to reveal rows upon rows of long, wickedly sharp fangs, while claws sprouted from beneath her lace-edged cuffs.
I sprinted after them, but Jimmy was fuelled by fear and Mrs Jones by whatever force propels the Mrs Joneses of the world. I followed the screeching to the lobby. Breathless, I arrived to see he had arrived within mere feet of the entrance before Mrs Jones grabbed him.
Claws wrapped around his throat, she lifted him into the air. As I watched, her jaw unhinged, the lower part dropping so that it was nearly level with her chest.
That sight drove all the sense out of my head. Forgetting every rule my parents had ever drilled into me, I lunged at her.
She batted me away as though I weighed no more than a fly.
I crashed into the reception desk, the breath bursting from my lungs in a great woosh. I was certain that I would die, for no amount of effort seemed to force air back into my aching chest. At last, as my vision began to dim, I managed to take a small gulp – then another, and another, until I was able to draw myself together enough to regain my feet.
By that time, Mrs Jones had nearly finished her dinner. Jimmy’s chest was splayed open, muscle and shattered ribs protruding every which way from his flesh, and she was devouring the last few bites of his heart.
His head was angled towards me. The light had winked out from his eyes, but they still held his final terror – and an accusation which, I was quite certain, was directed at me. I would like to say I felt only horror, but I couldn’t help my sudden jolt of irritation. How may times had I told him to mind his manners?
Mrs Jones gulped, the sound thick and wet in her gullet, and dropped what remained of Jimmy to the floor.
Then she turned to me.
Here’s another rule for you, one which I hope you never have cause to use: never interfere with a kill.
The Mrs Jones who used to kiss my grazed knees, who argued with my mother for the right to read me bedtime stories, was no longer at the wheel. No amount of pleading or reasoning would move her.
I could only run.
Spinning around, I vaulted over the reception desk and raced for the office behind it. If Jimmy had not been out of his mind with fear and booze, he might have remembered the rules and survived; it was one of several staff-only rooms throughout the hotel warded to keep out unwanted guests.
Just ten steps from desk to door, yet it was the longest journey of my life. My hard-won breath burned my throat; my heart pounded in my ears, deafening me to all other sounds than Mrs Jones’s heavy, pounding footsteps.
Grasping the handle, her hot, copper-tanged breath was on my neck. Fire exploded in my flesh as she raked her claws down my back. A step further away, and I wouldn’t have made it; the pain would have been too great. But I managed to throw myself into the office and slam the door before crumpling to the ground.
Before I passed out, I heard her grunting and shrieking outside, furious that she couldn’t get in.
Three days I spent in the office, emerging only to feed The Thing in the Cellar before scurrying back to my hiding place. Whenever I left, I tried not to look at the mangled heap that used to be Jimmy. There was no avoiding the smell, though.
With no small difficulty, and the help of a first aid kit, I managed to treat and bandage the wounds on my back. They bled sluggishly all throughout the first day, but thankfully didn’t fester.
On the morning of the fourth day, there was a tentative knock on the door followed by the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps. I waited until they had disappeared down the corridor before cracking the door open. On the floor was a freshly baked Victoria sponge and a beautifully written note of apology.
It took every ounce of courage I possessed, but that evening I forced myself to go to the dining room. Mrs Jones was waiting for me, her eyes red-rimmed, a steaming cottage pie on the table. I tried not to flinch as she took my hand, re-iterating the apology she had already delivered in writing.
The next morning, she helped me clean Jimmy up.
We treated each other cautiously for a while, but eventually we got back to playing gin rummy again. When the scars on my back twinge, as they sometimes do, she helps me rub a soothing ointment into them. Even though I’ve told her it’s not necessary, she apologises every time.
So, you’ve heard my story and you have my proposal. If you think you could be the man for me, I invite you to visit. You will need to drink a cup of ram’s blood (a pinch of nutmeg makes it a little more tolerable) and light a black candle before bedtime. When you next wake, you will find yourself at our gates. As travel arrangements go, it’s hardly the Orient Express, but it beats the airfare.
If you have read this without flinching, if you can stomach the journey to get here, if you walk up to our door and find the nerve to open it, I have one more instruction for you.
Just as you enter, look to your right. You will see a deep brown stain on the lobby carpet. I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed but it just won’t come out. Perhaps that’s for the best. It’s a good reminder of what will happen to you should you call Mrs Jones a “nosy old bat”.
And when you run into Jimmy – as you will, for he still likes hanging around the bar in the evening, his silvery wounds glistening as though they had just been inflicted – don’t let him convince you he was some sort of victim.
He knew the rules.

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Meta Quest Headset
GAMES:
Angry Birds VR: Isle of Pigs
Asgard's Wrath 2
BONELAB
Beat Saber
Blade & Sorcery: Nomad
Drunkn Bar Fight
Five Nights at Freddy's: Help Wanted
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Fruit Ninja 2
Gun Club VR
I Expect You To Die
I Expect You To Die 2
I Expect You To Die 3: Cog in the Machine
Ironlights
Job Simulator
Kingspray Graffiti
OrbusVR: Reborn
Painting VR
PowerWash Simulator VR
Robo Recall: Unplugged
SUPERHOT VR
The Climb
The Climb 2

For 23 years my household was home to a very violent, loud and unfaithful marriage. The only thing that kept that marriage together was that being miserable together was better than leaving the kids with one parent.
My older sister, younger brother and I were disillusioned back in elementary when a strange woman began to talk to us about being our new mother and her relationship to our Dad. Having the cops called on her revealed our Dad's affair but nothing came of it. As the years passed our Dad only had more affairs and when our Mom found out she went violently crazy.
All throughout this trainwreck me and my siblings relied on each other to grow our morals and understand what not to do from our parents. The only good that came from this is my brother having a happy & healthy relationship for 4 years that is now going to turn into an engagement.
Back to my dilemma. About 2 months ago after my siblings and I moved into our own apartment my parents finally got their divorce. Our Mom moved out of state for a better life and our Dad was a mess for a month. We did our best to help him through and introduced him to groups to help him build a friend group. Well a month ago he met a party girl at a bar and is obsessed like a middle schooler. I asked my siblings what we thought and all of us agreed we were pretty much indifferent. That was until our Dad started to make it weird.
For a month he's been bringing her over to our home, stinking the entire place up with smoke, asking us to come along to the bars and go for drinks since we're all adults. None of us drink or smoke since we don't enjoy drinking and get headaches from the smoke. He leaves her at our home so he can go to work, and gets mad at us when we ask her to leave. Whenever we talk on the phone he talks about this is real romance and that we should learn from this relationship instead of our parents relationship. And when I popped in to check on our Dad I saw them both bloody on the ground since they had just crashed her car because they both were too drunk to drive but did so anyway.
I've had my doubts about their relationship but I've tried to remain neutral, but when I found out my Dad has been kidnapping my cats during the day to 'win me over' I lost all my patience.
He came over to make a speech of how he just wants to be happy and move on from our mom, that accepting his girlfriend as family is the only thing he wants and to know he has our support.
All my frustrations came gushing out as I yelled something along the lines of "Don't make it sound like you're such the victim of that marriage! How dumb do you think we are? Don't act like you can be this great Dad doing us a service by dating someone again. You are a pathetic person that can't go a couple of days without clinging to the first person who glances your way, regardless of your relationship or martial status. How about your relationship is your relationship and you leave us out of it because holy crap we don't want to be apart of another one of your failing relationships."
Shoving him out and looking back I regret now everything I said, even my siblings are concern that he might try cutting us out of his life because of the way I said everything. I still believe that the message needed to somehow get through to him but I don't think this was the right method. I don't know what I should be doing or if I can fix this at all.

• Transphobic video using the word "tr***y"
• Referencing drag queens as clowns
• Doesn't disclose that reviews were really paid ads Edited her body for an Aerie ad, which is a brand that supposedly prides themselves on using real bodies.
• Was blocking and ignoring customers who purchased her Glamlite Paht 2 collection, never received their order, and asked about it. All of this while Glamlite was siphoning stock to CVS and also ignored customer inquiries about their overdue orders.
• Along with CVS, broke their "Beauty Unaltered" pledge by creating a display unit that is obviously filtered of the Trash Goblin’s face.
• Committed fraud by pledging that 50% of the proceeds from the Paht 2 collection would be donated to women's healthcare after the Dobbs decision. When anyone commented to ask about it, they were banned from her socials. This one is the most egregious, as there are people who might have purchased solely based on her pledge. She lied about not getting paid yet to make the donation just as the CVS distribution happened.
• She's myopic and doesn't care about her supporters, as she continually discusses her ED without the common courtesy of a trigger warning like most creators do for subjects like this. Her explanation for why she doesn't give a TW? "It doesn't trigger me, so fuck all of you." She's so disrespectful of Cody's sobriety.
• Does giveaways by making followers jump through engagement hoops to boost her profile but then didn't deliver on the giveaways.
• Begging... BEGGING.. followers on her broadcast channel to drop an emoji as a comment to inflate her engagement rate, as comments are engagement rate gold for getting paid.
• Claims she donates extra product to women's shelters, and then went on Instagram asking for suggestions on where in her area she can donate women's clothes. She's so fucking dense that she either doesn't realize the same places she supposedly donates product to is a good first start, or she outed herself as never donating before like she said she did if she doesn't know where to donate clothes locally.
• She's a terrible brand ambassador, which is on her and DBA. She went on a free Paris trip sponsored by Caudalie, and she shit talked how broken out her skin got on the trip (with the assumption she was using their products and services) and never once really hyped the brand that was paying for her to be there.
• Took money from Briogio for a campaign and at the same time posted videos about her hair falling out. She's so dumb she doesn't realize that she caused a causation comparison.
• She's lying about having clients, paying clients that aren't her friends and family. She is not a MUA or a certified in MA to do makeup.
• She brigades brands who don't do her bidding like a brat. Pottery Barn in the middle of the pandemic had shipping and quality issues. She sent her followers after them and then begged PB for more free stuff.
• She has her friends like HeartofGreg comment on her videos, which she then stiches the comment to review a product. She then takes that video and shops it to the brand to get them to sponsor the video.. and a few weeks later the video resurfaces as partner, paid partnerships, sponsorship.
• Tax fraud when handling gratis, expenses, and giveaways
• Did a giveaway for Chanel bags with Chris Appleton (Color Wow) and the Boston's Children's Hospital, which was against GoFundMe's Terms of Service. She never gave the winners their prize.
• Dogs a brand who sent her free items but then turns around and praises the brand when they pay her (She did it with Essence and KVD).
• Did a bunch of fake "pick out my wedding makeup" when she 100% knew what she was using including the fact that e.l.f. sponsored her wedding as a brand event. She says that's not true, but I can guarantee e.l.f. writes off the expenses they incurred for her wedding as a business expense.
• Lied about her YouTube page being her page. She feverously uploaded videos when she took her 5:19, baby tantrum, pity party break from TikTok but still needed to earn money. She uploaded her TikTok videos to YouTube, lied that it was her channel, and made money. If it wasn't her channel, you know she and DBA would file a cease and desist .. and win it.. to get the channel removed. It's her channel.
• Her filter usage is fraud. Period. There is no debating it. When you are getting paid to review products and apply a filter on your face and body, you are committing fraud. The viewer thinks it's the product making that effect and not really the software engineering team that created the editing app.
• With the PeeeLouish collab, they were caught pre-applying swatches from the P.Louise palette. She's also not really applying makeup in her videos. Cheeks, bronzer, and eyes are being applied off screen and she's swiping a brush making it look like she's applying it. Another sign she can't do professional makeup at all. It's all fake.
• Every ”in the wild” picture that’s not filtered shows the truth.
• She constantly lurks on other creators pages to find commenters to block when they shit talk her. Insecure much? She’ll unblock people to snark them and lurk, then block them again. We know she does this with Rich Lux.
• She supports James Charles. The grifting carnival barker loves the groomer trash.
• Community Contribution: She shits on her estranged half sister to her millions of followers, when all the evidence points to her sister being frozen out of their family at the age of 14. She claims her sister walked out of their lives because she “wasn’t the precious daughter of the family anymore” after Mikayla was born, and also talks badly about her sister for being on disability. Mikayla is an aunt to two girls, but I doubt she’s ever cared nor met them. Her sister also lived and lives right down the road from Mikayla’s parents home.
• She’s a known bully and coming from someone who’s now being regarded as an ED spokesperson. She told her friend that drinking hot chocolate would be “200 very unnecessary calories”, and that she was “just trying to help since you’re trying to lose weight” with that comment. She’s a mean girl, and she always has been.
• She cries about shade range while she brags about being soooo pale (um, really?). She releases collabs that are not inclusive for POC. She then brags about buying out and hoarding darker foundations and concealers to use as bronzers meaning the very little stock available for darker skin tones becomes even more scarce when her idiot stans buy up the product. She also blackfishes.
• She can't admit when she's wrong and aggressively lashes out to those trying to point it out. She called a comb and brush, and when corrected in her comments, she was incredibly rude to her own followers. You know, the people engaging with her content that's paying her mortgage. She is incapable of saying, "oops, my bad." Her integrity is crap for this behavior.
• Just like the above, the unwillingness to admit a simple mistake turned her into an ableist POS. There are those with low vision or no vision who listen to TikToks and rely on accuracy in speech and closed captions. Her "go fuck yourself, bro" attitude when called out about the comb incident made her incredibly ableist.
• She creates rage bait content to generate engagement gold via angry comments. This makes her a carnival barking grifter.
• She begs for engagement on her broadcast channel trying to force things to go viral like "nice and shaaaahhp." It's actually pathetic watching her do this.
• Used a derogatory term used to reference Travelers/Romani people and doubled down on it when people called her out and educated her on the use of the word.
• Lied about creating some Mother's Day shopping spree for a "family in need" saying that when she heard their story, she knew she just had to help. When asked in the comments about the story, she played the, "It's not my story the tell." Come to find out, the story is that the child goes to the school that Mikayla's mom works at. There was a raffle at the school, and one of the prizes was a $500 shopping trip with MikPickMe. The girl's mom paid for 40 entries to win the raffle, and she did. The only reason the shopping was done on Mother's Day was due to conflicting schedules. This was not a shopping spree for a family in need. It was a prize from a raffle that Mikayla's mommy had a hand in.
• MikLieHole took Rael's money and trip and went in days earlier with her emotional support animal, Codypendency, and did meetings with a competitor, Tirtir. Tirtir gifted her a Birkin while in South Korea, too.

So basically my mother and I work at this daycare & the director is a total jerk to her exclusively (ik, very unique story right? lol), however we want to do something about it because this mistreatment is totally unfair, and it is very obvious (to our other teachers as well) that the director is doing this exclusively to my mom to get her to quit.....
We also want to do something about it because it's stressing asf, when we already have a bad life outside of work, which has affected my mother's mentality a lot, resulting in suicidal tendencies and un-hopefulness as she already has severe depression (she will get diagnosed next month if any proof is needed)...
This director has had a hate towards my mother which has become more evident towards the years especially w a new coworker who everyone complains about as she does her job really bad, affecting all of us , (despite having years of experience) yet the director protects her for whatever reason, and came yesterday to the center to pull my mom out of the classroom and have a "discussion" w an obvious intent to get her to quit which affected m mom a lot.... Because imagine having a bad home life w no support and now this...
Other teachers have done worse things to the point that children have sometimes requested to their social workers/parents to be pulled out bcz of something the teacher has done but a "discussion" never happened, they're still there and doing just fine... Some don't wear the uniform pants/shoes yet the director always picks on my mom if she ever wears shoes w a bit of white in it.... Noone else, just her.
My mom really loves her children and everyone knows it bcz they love her back.... Whenever she leaves the room the babies cry and always want HER. Yet is never considered the lead teacher as if she was an alien or sum.
My mom NEVER got a change in schedule for 4 whole years unlike her other peers. When she asked to change it a year ago so she can leave at 2 pm for the week, her director "punished" her by giving her a 10-2 schedule, which isn't even part time..... It was to give breaks/lunches and everyone noticed how mean that was.....
The director also paid other coworkers w either the same/less years working there expensive courses to become directors one day excluding her, and she always brings up the fact that (after 3 years) "she" (her sister actually) finally gave her a change in her schedule therefore she should be more responsible, as if she doesn't have the right to change her schedule unlike everyone else.
My mom has a different speech (an accent), so the director responds to her in Spanish, despite being able to perfectly speak English herself, and is 44 years of age which could be discriminatory, however there is an older worker there who is treated alright, but she's the chef, not the teacher. That's the conflicting part.
Should we sue her? Or is there no reason to?..... This director has been sued before for discrimination in a case that won.

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/DdJxUSevYf0
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Have you ever experienced something that shook you to your very core? Something that makes you remember every single little detail of your surroundings from that moment in time? Even years after? I can remember so vividly the moment I realized something was wrong with me. I was in my junior year of high school sitting in class, just like any other day. I remember the smell of erasers and cheap cologne that permeated off my classmate who sat next to me. I remember the scratchy tag on my t-shirt and how I was resisting taking it off in the middle of class just to cut it off. I remember what my teacher, Mrs. Brown, was talking about; 'the fall of Constantinople'. My mouth felt dry and I kept looking at the clock, counting down the minutes until I had lunch so I could get a soda. The sound of a pen clicking behind me was synchronized with the song that was stuck in my head.
All those things were going through my brain at once. My ADHD mind went a million miles per minute when it all came down to a cashing holt when I felt it at 11:23
I felt what I can only describe as a hand grabbing at the inner lining of my stomach. It didn't necessarily hurt, not at this point. That's not why I got so scared. You see, not only do I have ADHD. I also have OCD that manifests itself in the fear of anything growing or moving inside me. Even if I think about the concept of blood moving in my body or a heart that is beating in my chest, I have to think of something else. I've had full-blown panic attacks because of it. The closest term for this is 'Tokophobia'. That's technically the fear of pregnancy. I'm a guy, so it's not completely accurate but it's really the closest term. I mean, I also do have a huge fear of pregnancy. Not necessarily of me being pregnant, but even though I knew I could never get pregnant, the thought of it still made me feel sick
I bet you can imagine the terror that overcame me as I felt something moving in me. I made an audible groan and grabbed my stomach. My whole class turned to look at me. even my teacher stopped talking to ask if I was okay. I stood up and started to run to the nurses' office without even acknowledging my teacher. My first thought wasn't thinking that something was actually in my body. Even stomach aches and the feeling of gurgling in my stomach made me feel this way before. I didn't have anything on hand to help with a stomach ache, unfortunately. However, the nurse always did.
I sprinted across the school hoping and praying that my stomach wouldn't make that awful feeling again before I got there.
I turned the corner into the nurses' office with my tennis shoes squeaking in the process. I saw the school nurse, Mrs. Kennedy sitting on the couch in her office reading a magazine. She looked up at me with a sweet smile that quickly turned into worry.
"Sam, what is it? How can I help?" She said as she stood up and hurried over to me. Putting her hand over mine which was grabbing my stomach tightly.
"It's…It's my stomach. Something is wrong with it." I mumbled with a red face.
She shuffled her way over to her large medicine cabinet and she motioned for me to sit down.
She asked me questions about my stomach. Asking if it was pain, grumbling, cramps, nausea, etc. As she was asking me what my symptoms were and digging through bottles, The feeling happened again. However, this time was different. It felt like fingers grassing against the inside of my body. I screamed and wrapped my arms around my torso. Mrs. Kenneddy ran over to me to comfort me.
"This seems a lot worse than normal, maybe we should call your parents." She said as she put her hand on my back.
It felt like some days I saw Mrs. Kennedy more than my teachers. Any small ailment would distract me so badly from class that I had to go see her. Sometimes multiple times a day. She knew at this point when something was really wrong.
Within about 30 minutes both my parents were there with us. That may seem fast, but I'm an only child and my parents are very aware of my tendencies. They know I can spiral and like to be around if it happens.
They kept asking me where the pain was. I think they assumed by the way I wasn't responding to their questions the pain must've been really bad. The reality was that I just didn't know how to tell them what was going on.
I got so frustrated after they asked me over and over again that I just yelled at them.
"Something is inside me! Get it out, get it out, get it out!" I lifted my shirt and was ripping at my stomach. Leaving red nail scratches and cuts. My mom and dad ran to either side of me to grab my arms. Mrs. Kennedy had seen me go pretty crazy, but this was the worst I've ever gotten in front of her. My parents however had seen a similar situation before. Not exactly like this, but they didn't skip a beat on trying to help me.
"Sam. Breath, sweety. Just remember everything is in you for a reason. It's keeping you alive. Nothing is going to hurt you." My mom said softly to me. Trying to calm me down with the words my therapist gave her. "Ice cubes, get him ice cubes!" She said to Mrs. Kennedy as I started to hyperventilate.
Mrs. Kennedy grabbed a ziplock bag and started to fill it with ice cubes. My mom went over to her and grabbed an ice cube right out of the bag, opened up my hand, and put the ice cube in it. This worked in the past to distract me, I knew that's what she was doing, and trust me. I wanted it to work too, but this was different. I kept trying to tell myself that it was just a different feeling I hadn't felt before. That it wasn't possible something was physically inside my body. But I couldn't help it.
Everyone in the room could see that this was getting intense. I think they assumed it was just a mental breakdown and that nothing was physically wrong with my body but I didn't care. I just wanted help.
My parents got me into the car with my mom even sitting in the backseat with me. She kept trying to distract me with conversation but my mind was only on that awful feeling in my stomach.
We pulled up to the ER and my mom guided me in while holding both my wrists. It felt like she was walking me on a leash but I didn't fight it. I knew she was just trying to stop me from scratching my stomach.
We walked in and I spoke to the receptionist. All I said was that I had terrible pain in my stomach. I didn't want to sound too crazy. I just needed a doctor to look at whatever was going on.
After giving the receptionist my name and insurance information we went to sit down. I was sitting in between my parents and I could see my mom lean back to try and mouth something to my dad without me seeing. I didn't think much of it. I was way more worried about other things.
My dad then went up to the receptionist. He pointed over to me and she looked a little concerned. I saw her pick up the clipboard that had my information on it and she started writing something else on it. I asked my dad what he did and he just said to not worry and that he wanted to let her know it was urgent.
No more than 10 minutes went by and I felt a terrible moving sensation. I cringed and grabbed my stomach. Immediately followed by not just the feeling of a hand grabbing my insides but also scratching and pinching. I yelled out in pain as the other people in the waiting room looked at me mortified.
A doctor and a couple of nurses came running over to me and helped me up. But I couldn't stand up. I was in too much pain. They put me in a wheelchair and started to head for a room. However, they didn't take me through the normal big ER doors that went to the standard examination rooms, they took me and my parents through a smaller door to the side that had a padlock on it.
We walked through a white hallway that was very quiet. The doctor and nurses showed us to my room and helped me into my bed as I was wiggling and wincing. I had one parent on either side of me. Patiently waited to stop my arms from scratching.
The doctor was trying to ask further questions but he could tell it wasn't going anywhere. I knew that my dad probably told that receptionist about my OCD tendencies and that I needed to go to the psych ward. Not just to the stranded side of the ER.
I couldn't take it anymore and blurted out that something was inside my stomach and it was trying to get out.
The doctor just looked at my parents for a reaction and they gave him a sad nod. It was like they warned him that this could happen. The doctor didn't just think I was crazy, my parents did too. The doctor took a deep breath and came up to me. I knew I was about to hear some kind of dumb speech about how this was just my OCD and everything was going to be okay.
As he came closer to me, I pulled up my shirt and he gasped. Not only was my stomach scratched up like crazy, but we saw movement. It looked like when a pregnant woman can see her baby kicking. But this was so much stronger. It was stretching my skin.
My parents stood up and gasped while the doctor looked frantic and unprepared.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" The doctor said as he backed out of the room. "Hang on! We are getting this taken care of, just hang tight."
Just seconds later a nurse came in to give me some painkillers. I started to feel the pain slip away, but something so much worse started to creep in. I heard a voice. Not my own. Not some creepy-sounding creature, but the voice of a normal-sounding man that I'd never heard before. But that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was what he was saying to me.
"Get me out. Get me out. Get me out!"
It started in a normal tone, but slowly became more urgent and rushed. Then demanding.
The voice would coincide with the moment inside me.
It was getting so loud that I was having a hard time hearing the people around me. The doctor came in just a few minutes after I last saw him. He was red and sweaty. Like he'd just run a marathon. He told me they needed to do just a few tests on what was inside me before taking action.
I was trying so hard to pay attention to the words coming out of his mouth but all I could hear was the voice. The voice stopped for just a second and changed what he was saying. Now he started repeating,
"Cut me out, cut me out, cut me out, now!" I now knew this thing didn't just want out but it wanted out now. I begged the doctor to just get it out now but he wouldn't listen. The voice spoke up again.
"This is taking too long. Don't be afraid. Get me out yourself."
I think it could feel me resisting. Without realizing it, I was looking around the room for something. It was like I didn't even have control over my head or eyes anymore. I knew the voice was looking for a knife but I was trying to ignore the feeling. I knew there weren't any knives around. I was in a very safe place.
Just as I had the feeling I was safe, it was immediately taken away. The thought passed through my head that my dad probably had a pocket knife on him. My heart sank. I knew this thing could hear my thoughts. I knew what it would try to do.
The next thing I knew, I was on my feet, leaping for my dad. My body hit his. luckily, he's in pretty good shape for his age and had no problems putting me in my place.
He got on top of me and pinned me to the ground. All while I could barely hear my mom in the background. Yelling at my dad to be careful. My dad knew something was going on and that I just needed to be on the ground until I calmed down.
My body tried to flail but it wasn't successful. The whole time the voice in my head, now yelling and screaming. Not saying any distinguishable words, but just having what felt like a tantrum. What made my dad the most uncomfortable was the kicking feeling coming from my stomach.
After a couple of minutes, the voice calmed down and I felt in charge of my body again. My dad slowly got up and attempted to help me up. At this point with an audience of hospital staff that looked like they were getting ready to take me somewhere for more tests.
Just as I stood up straight, I felt the voice take over and I lost all sense of my own body. I felt like a shell of myself. My dad gave me a soft yet worried smile, and in that instance, I grabbed him and reached into his pocket. My heart sank as I felt his pocket knife. The room started to panic and about 5 people tried to grab it from me. The last thing I remember is plunging the knife into my stomach. I felt a blinding pain and everything went black.
Several hours later I started to wake up. Everything was extremely blurry and fuzzy. I could hear a very faint voice telling me to relax. As the minutes passed by, things started to become a little bit clearer. I looked around and saw I was in a large room with a few other patients. A nurse was going up to all the beds and checking in on them. I tried to sit up a bit to get more comfortable and noticed an incredible sourness in my stomach. I moved my hospital gown out of the way and saw a huge scare. About 6" across. Most of the scare looked very surgical. Like what I'd imagine a c-section surgery would look like. Except where I remembered the knife going in. It looked like a bunch of extra stitches had to be added where it went in. It also looked pretty bruised. I can imagine that a dull 10-year-old knife that was harshly shoved into a body really wouldn't cleanly cut through and leave some damage.
The feeling of shock from looking at my stomach was quickly gone when I realized that meant whatever was in me was now gone. I didn't hear the voice, I didn't feel a hand in my gut anymore, I didn't see that vile kicking anymore. I felt like I could breathe.
I asked the nurse what they found and she looked flush.
"Uh, that's something that you, uh. Your doctor will talk with you once you eat something and can speak clearly." She said as she scurried off looking upset.
Shortly after that, I was wheeled into a recovery room and my parents came to see me.
As they walked in they had a very similar look on their faces as the nurse did. They looked pale and didn't want to look me in the eye. I kept asking them questions about what was going on but they said the doctor needed to discuss it with me and he wanted to make sure I wasn't feeling high from the anesthesia while we had a conversation.
The doctor didn't come and see me for another 10 hours. Which felt strange. And to add to the strangeness, my parents were taking shifts hanging out with me. There was only overlap when they switched and the other parent took over while the other one left the room. I would understand if they weren't both with me for the whole time. I'm not that needy, but they were only both in my room together for about an hour. That was the hour before the doctor came to my room.
Finally, the doctor came in to talk to me. When he walked in, the room was cold and quiet. It was evident he didn't feel the same relief I was feeling.
He seemed awkward. Like he was talking way too long to get over to me. He grabbed a chair and scooted it close to me.
"Listen Sam. I know this last 24 hours has been very challenging. I apologize for not explaining what happened during your surgery sooner, but we all needed time to figure it out, and quite frankly, process what happened. We feel we have enough information to let you in on what is going on." A silence filled the room. It felt like no one was brave enough to break it.
"And?" I said with confusion.
"I think it'll be easier if we just show you."
The doctor along with my parents helped me into a wheelchair and we started to make our way across the hospital to an entirely different section. I couldn't believe all the things running through my head at what we were about to see. It felt like cruel and unusual punishment to leave me in anticipation and not just tell me what I was about to see.
When I went around the corner I couldn't process what I was looking at. I thought they were showing me a large tumor or growth of some kind, but why would a tumor be in a big incubation chamber with tubes connected to IVs and machines coming out of it?
As I got closer, I started to see human fetchers on it. It was mostly just a 6-pound lump of flesh, but I could see a hand sticking out of it. It was small, but what made it creepy was it looked like a fully developed man's hand. Just small. I could see a patch of hair coming out of what I assumed was its head. It had no discernible facial features. Just a few teeth scattered in one section.
As I looked at it with disgust, coming to terms with this thing that was just in my body, I had a realization. I wasn't feeling sick at the thought of something being in my body. Sure, I was grossed out that this particular thing was just in me, but the thought of the bacteria in my body didn't make me want to throw up. I thought about all the blood pumping through my veins and I felt… normal. Not only was the voice and kicking gone. But my OCD was gone too. I didn't have a mental illness. It was just this thing. Trying to find its way out for years.
As I was staring at the creature, the doctor came and put his hand on my shoulder.
"We believe this is your twin brother." I immediately looked up at my parents who looked very disturbed and upset. I let the doctor finish talking. "We believe that you absorbed him in the womb and that he has been living inside you your whole life. This is an extremely rare condition called fetus-in-fetu. It seems he didn't quite have the best opportunity to develop normally. That's why he looks the way he does. Despite his appearance, he has all the organs he needs to survive. Looks like he's missing a lung and his gallbladder. Also a piece of his liver but other than that, it looks like he will live for at least a few years. He won't be able to leave this room due to him needing a feeding tube and a few other things that his body can not do on its own. He needs lots of support just to live. What makes this situation extremely unique is that your twin is still alive despite your body not sustaining him anymore. Even though we have him hooked up to a few IVs and machines, It is unexplainable how he is living while outside of your body."
I was in complete shock. I didn't want to believe it. I asked my mom why she never told me I absorbed my twin in the womb, she said she had no clue. There was never a sign when she was pregnant with me.
He also mentioned that sometimes even in pregnancies women will go their whole pregnancy without even getting a belly. It's called a 'Cryptic pregnancy'. I've always had a bit of a gut but never anything big enough to cause suspicion. I guess in my case I had a fetus-fetu and an experience similar to a cryptic pregnancy. Even though it was in my stomach. At least that was the doctor's best guess. Although, it all sounded like BS to me.
The doctor and my parents kept trying to explain more and more details to me. I don't know why they didn't slow down a little bit for my sake. How could they not tell I wasn't processing any of this?
I noticed something while they were trying to explain things to me. They kept calling it a 'He'.
Now listen. I'm not some kind of asshole that won't respect someone who wants to be called a specific pronoun. I've never been that kind of person. But this is where I draw the line.
Not just that. But this thing had a name. My parents named it and said today was its birthday. While they told me all this information, they didn't look happy about it. It seemed like they were forced to do all this nonsense. And now it was my turn to be convinced. I could tell they were trying to force it.
The doctor told me despite it not having a high probability for a long life that we should still try and give it the love it deserves. Of course, the doctor referred to it as a 'He' but I refused to.
This disgusted me. This thing tried to kill me and ruined my quality of life for so long, and now we are going to treat it like it's some kind of prince? No, absolutely not.
Luckily, it seemed like it would never leave the hospital, but my parents planned on going to visit it daily. Visiting it? Are you kidding me? it has no eyes, no ears, it's probably miserable and has no concept of people even being around it.
I'm refusing to ever see this thing again or acknowledge its existence again.
I could get in trouble for even talking about this. The hospital or anyone involved has signed NDAs to not share any information about this until it officially dies. This is because it's a medical anomaly and the first of its kind. They want to do the proper research on how this all occurred before coming out with a statement. I just have to get this all off my chest. I feel like I'm the crazy one here when I know I'm not. I don't care if I get in trouble.
I am scared that the doctors are trying to force my parents into giving this thing a proper life. I think that's why it took them so long to tell me. I think they scared my parents into keeping it alive and guilting them or even forcing them into being its parent.
I'm all for every life being important and all that stuff, but I have a feeling my parents are terrified of this thing just like I am.
I am convinced they gaslit my parents into believing this thing is my brother. If there wasn't any sign of him while my mom was pregnant with me, could this thing be something else?
This all happened about two years ago. It's still alive and they are still researching it. My parents continue to visit it despite everything. My therapist told me that I'm probably just struggling with jealousy now that I'm not an only child anymore and so much of my parents' attention is on him now, but it's so much bigger than just jealousy.
Since this thing showed up and my OCD is pretty much gone, I've hardly seen my parents. I know I'm not just jealous. There is something more to this. I know it.
Something just feels so off about this whole thing. What is this thing? Where did it come from? And what does it want?

Before I dive in, know that I love my wife and I want to fix this. I’m posting in RelationshipAdvice for a reason. It will be a lot, but please don’t read it like an AITA post and pass judgment. I need some honest advice, and I’m miles away from my real-life support network.
The TL; DR is that my wife has (re)developed a bunch of conversational habits from hanging out with her brother. These habits leave me feeling excluded, stressed, and are messing with my work. Trying to address them has opened a whole can of worms, mainly that my wife hates my entire problem-solving style.
I’m keeping details vague in case she stumbles upon this post. Please, if you think my story doesn’t add up, or you think you know where I am and want to offer real estate advice or whatever, keep it to yourself.
We got hitched and moved in together right before before Covid hit. Started off great, but after six months of lockdowns and masks, we realized we could live anywhere in the country without paying through the nose for coastal housing. For context: I work in tech, and my wife is a performer. We met in a bar, and honestly, Covid was the wake-up call that my career hadn’t lived up to my potential, probably due to alcohol. So I accepted the reality that maybe my career isn’t going where I hoped, and isn’t likely to – and instead of chasing after it, we should downsize our expenses. I counted my blessings for having a wonderful wife instead.
I negotiated permanent remote work. We aimed to move to the low-cost state she grew up in. Her brother, who I like way more than my own family, hooked us up with a place to rent near his house. Bigger than we needed, but I was okay with it because it had space for a home office. We boxed up our lives into a truck and moved.
Here’s where it gets complicated. My wife has always been talkative, and she can be pretty dang loud. Not sure how much of this I didn’t fully realize before. When we were dating, we only saw each other a couple of days a week, and in our first place together, we never had visitors thanks to the pandemic. But when she's with her brother, she talks like she's trying to command a room full of first-graders. She also doesn’t adjust her volume when she’s close to me. I have tinnitus, and she has literally made my ears ring by talking while leaning on me
Next up. I feel like a jerk saying this, given what I know about the word ‘shrill’, but hear me out. If the two of us are in the same room, she’ll use a tone of voice that seems intended to be impossible to ignore.
Third, if I try to join the conversation, my wife will interrupt me and steamroll right over me. Part of this is because she has a strange conversational rhythm where she seems to be done talking but then BAM! She jumps back in at an even higher volume, after the pause. So if you think it’s your turn to speak, you get interrupted. She does this even when no one else is talking. She will interrupt me to finish my sentences, nearly always incorrectly. She will interrupt me to tell me I’m wrong about something, ruining my flow. She will interrupt me to take over telling a story, telling it worse by missing key facts and rambling at higher speed.
Fourth, she doesn't seem to organize her thoughts before speaking. At all. Couple with what I just mentioned, you've got her cutting off anyone who dares to chime in until she's “talked out” the subject with everything she can think of. By then, everyone else is bored and over being interrupted when they try to jump in. So, the topic just fizzles out, and she covers that up with nervous laughter.
Fifth, if I try to ask questions to follow along, she gets mad that I’m interrupting her or ruining her flow. So I’ve given up on questions. If I lose track, I either catch up or I don’t. I can’t zone out because of her volume and tone.
Sixth, after she’s been around her brother, she maintains this kind of conversational energy when it’s just us. Her brother can be just as loud, and raises his voice and talks over her right back in the moment. But when we’re in any group that does not include my wife, he’s back to an energy I can converse with. She does not switch back, not unless she hasn’t seen him for at least a week.
Seventh, their parents’ first language isn’t English, and they immediately switch to it as soon as I leave the room. If you know the language I mean, it makes every conversation sound like a fight. I figure, if they’re not including me anyway, why talk in English while I’m around? Why can’t I just leave you guys to talk? No, because then my wife gets mad that I’m a bad host, that I “hate” her brother, or calls me a “rude teenager”.
Eighth, 90% of their what they talk about are their opinions, mostly of family members, reality TV, or random AITA stuff. They just keep regurgitating the same views about people, social issues, capitalism, America, over and over. When I do get to throw in my two cents, they often react with anger. It feels like a low-effort bonding activity: like we’re constantly reaffirming the group values – and verbally punishing transgression – rather than discuss anything new. Her brother isn’t like this away from her.
However I slice this, it’s incongruent. If they want me involved by speaking English, why not let me chime in? If they think they're entertaining me, why not make sure I'm following? And if I'm supposed to zone out, why use a tone and volume that's impossible to ignore?
The impression I get is that my wife thinks my role is to be her passive audience, plain and simple.
There’s more about my job, but first, how I’ve failed to address this so far.
First, the loudness. According to both of them ‘that’s just the way we are,’ so it ain’t changing.
I haven’t addressed the tone, I can’t figure out how to without starting a fight.
Interruptions. My wife has had four levels of reactions when I have brought this up. First, she straight-up ignores it. Second, she acknowledges it, but with an eye roll like I'm just being petty. Third is to get mad, call me an asshole, or accuse me of silencing her. Fourth, she blows up and yells all kinds of crap (“you’re evil,” “you just hate my brother,” and incongruently, “you two are douche-bros together”), which after she’ll say she didn’t mean. She’ll then start crying about losing me, or even making her brother hate her. She’ll make me swear to keep reminding her. But in the moment, when she’s not upset, she’s back to eye rolling.
Rambling. My wife’s response is that I do the exact same thing, and that when I do it, it’s extremely boring. What she means is that if I’m excited by or trying to explain anything technical, she tunes out as soon as she hears a word she doesn’t understand, and stares right through my head until I stop talking. Apparently, this is ‘polite’. Asking questions, saying I'm not interested? Just rude.
How she changes her behavior around her brother. Raising it makes her mad. She has straight-up told me, “I will always pick my brother over you.” In her more honest moments, she’s admitted the thought of me developing a beef with her brother is one of her worst nightmares, so her anger is really for of that outcome, directed at me. She gets that this is counterproductive, sometimes. But this conversation is tough.
Switching in English. They forget this and slip back to ‘politeness’ rules. I have to be careful how I word ‘I have no interest in this conversation’ or ‘You don’t need to talk in English’ or they both say I’m rude and get mad.
My wife has also said she hates the way I solve relationship problems, calling it ‘patronizing hippy crap’. For instance, I ask people what their goal is in saying or doing certain thing (“What’s your intention in talking so loud?”). This immediately makes my wife mad, like she thinks I’m playing sociology professor and using brains to outsmart her. Thing is, she will say a LOT of things she doesn’t mean in an argument, and I tend to take things literally, so I need to check that she doesn’t actually mean “You’re evil”, otherwise the argument escalates for other reasons.
I feel like she retaliates for feeling like I’m trying to impose some kind of intellectual superiority over her by trying to impose some kind of “social intelligence” superiority over me. “Of course people don’t mean everything they say in fucking arguments, are you retarded?”. She’ll misinterpret what I’m saying in a way that implies I’m real dumb, then moves the conversation on before I can defend myself. All of which is exacerbated by how her habits push me out of the conversation.
Onto work problems. My job requires two things from me: hard problem-solving which needs long periods of uninterrupted focus, and rapid incident response. Being interrupted/talked to while I’m deep in work disrupts both of those. Neither my wife nor her brother (who’s a contractor) stick to regular office hours, and they both like to knock back a few during the day. Now, I have no issue with that, but I do have a problem when he comes over, starts drinking with my wife, they have loud conversations which I can hear from my office. Often from one room to another.
My wife doesn’t appreciate me complaining about this since she “should be free to enjoy her own home” and I “can easily get another job.” I’ve tried explaining to her that no, I can’t easily get a job that pays the same in this state. Either I’d have to hunt for increasingly scarce remote work, or we’d need to suck up downsizing and potentially moving away from her brother. She refuses to entertain any of this.
Things have improved slightly since I started composing this post, but only after a chaotic incident. She stormed into my office to look for something, mid-argument with her brother. In frustration, I took off for a drive to clear my head. Of course, there was an incident while I was out, I missed the notification, and got written up for it.
I’ve tried talking to her brother one-on-one. He’s a realist. Rent a private office, and get ourselves into couples therapy. My objection is straightforward: the cost of commuting, office rent, couples therapy (no cheaper here, lower quality by all accounts), on top of our current expenses, exceed what we were paying before we moved. All this because my wife won't adjust her behavior to accommodate my needs, or respect my job.
They often invite me to drink with them during lunch and sometimes suggest blowing off the rest of the day. Despite my repeated refusals, they persist, considering it polite. I find it rude and disrespectful to keep pushing. They've even labeled me as "boring”. But what really grinds my gears is when they invite me out and I decline, they think they've got a right to grill me about why. A few times, when I've had enough of their pestering, I’ll state my position more firmly, and then they’ll get real mad that I’m being “judgmental”, and think I’m better than them. So now if they invite me anywhere, I just shut it down with a simple "no" and zero explanation. Which bugs them, but at least it keeps the peace.
There are a ton of other emergent/secondary annoyances I could get into, but let's cap it at three.
One, since I’ve said they’re both being hypocritical about me being ‘judgmental’ (even though I wasn’t) in refusing to join their plans, when the majority of their conversations are judging other people: it has become a game to them to point out every time they think I’m a hypocrite. I answered my wife from another room once. She brings it up as my ‘hypocrisy’ whenever I mention she’s yelling to her brother in another room, and she’s right next to me.
I think it’s different: her yelling in the house upsets me, but my ‘hypocrisy’, she enjoys that. We aren’t trading vices. If I realize I’m upsetting my wife, I stop doing whatever it is that’s upsetting her. She seems to be telling me that she doesn’t care to adjust her behavior to stop upsetting me. And that the real problem is that I keep talking about it, rather than just quietly suffering through it.
Two I've likely developed obnoxious habits just to maintain some space in conversations with my wife, such as speaking louder to overcome interruptions.
Three, my wife will talk to me at any time, without paying any attention to what I’m doing or even whether I’m wearing noise-cancelling headphones. She’ll interrupt me whilst I’m holding a mop, vacuum, trash bag to remind me to mop, vacuum, or take out the trash. She’ll interrupt me while I’m tackling a chore to give me instructions. I don't understand them, she'll take over, do it the exact same way I was, then huff about it. She’ll interrupt me whilst I’m getting ready to remind me to take my wallet, throwing off my train of thought and making me forget what I was looking for. Which I’ll then forget. She’ll interrupt me while driving, for random observations (‘look, a cute dog!’) no matter how many times I tell her it’s dangerous.
It’s hard to explain how much more restrictive this makes my life feel. I avoid tasks that will take over 20 minutes unless my wife is out. My wife and brother both mock me for traits (lousy memory, lack of focus, disorganization) which they exacerbate with their behavior.
When my wife is away from her brother, she returns to her usual self, the woman I fell for.
My gut tells me her family has a toxic way of communicating (the rest of her family are borderline abusive), and she learnt to tone down of those tendencies while away from them. She is more at ease with that way of speaking with her brother, and she falls back to it with him – and is trying to force me to adapt to it. There’s probably a side order of some history of feeling sidelined in male-dominated groups, so she’s acting out on that trauma and making sure out-talks us both. She’s got zero patience for boredom, which is why she butts in and won’t take extra time to make sure I understand – and why she thinks my ‘long rants’ are way longer and more boring than hers.
Her view is that conversations are boring unless people are excited, and excited people interrupt and talk over each other constantly. I hate that, because a conversation just feels like a constant fight to participate. It’s draining and I’d rather not socialize at all.
She describes the way I’d rather talk – back and forth – as “pompous, like you think you’re a king who can’t be interrupted”.
I don’t have a support system here since everyone I know here is through them, and everyone back home still believes I successfully rode off into the sunset. So, Reddit, how do I better communicate my needs to my wife? Both to not lose my job, and to enjoy conversations with her?

Howdy! I’m moving back to Alpharetta soon to be closer to my parents and brother. Where I live now there’s a thriving RPG community thanks to a local game store where I could host public games and scout players to add to my personal D&D 5e campaigns. I was wondering what stores in Atlanta I might be able to do the same with? Or if there’s adventurers league at bars or something similar to join up with?

Comprehensive Framework for Analyzing Social Hierarchies and Behaviors to Predict and Prevent High School Shootings

This framework aims to analyze social dynamics in educational settings to provide tools for predicting and preventing high school shootings. By understanding the roles of alpha, beta, gamma, and omega personalities within social hierarchies, and incorporating transactional analysis and the impact of early childhood trauma, we can identify at-risk individuals and implement interventions at the group level.

Social Hierarchy Types

1. Alpha: Dominant individuals who typically lead and hold the highest social power. They decide what to train, influencing the behaviors and values of others.
2. Beta: Supportive individuals who are influential but subordinate to alphas. They may enforce the alpha's decisions, enabling both positive and negative group behaviors.
3. Gamma: Average members who follow social norms without seeking dominance or leadership. They often allow bad group behavior by conforming and not intervening.
4. Omega: Individuals who are marginalized or scapegoated within the group. High frequency of negative outcomes, such as suicide, can occur if they fall to this status from higher positions.

Key Variables

1. Dominance Behaviors: Actions and language used to assert authority.
2. Status Degradation Behaviors: Actions and language aimed at lowering another’s social status for self-preservation or social climbing.
3. Social Hierarchy Position: Classification as alpha, beta, gamma, or omega based on observed behaviors and group dynamics.
4. Dynamic Status Changes: Shifts in an individual’s social hierarchy position over time.
5. Transactional Analysis States: Parent, Adult, and Child modes as described in transactional analysis.
6. Early Childhood Trauma: Identification of individuals who have experienced significant trauma and its impact on their social hierarchy position and behaviors.

Transactional Analysis Framework

1. Parent Mode: Behaviors and language mimicking authoritative or nurturing figures.
2. Adult Mode: Rational and objective communication, focusing on facts and logic.
3. Child Mode: Behaviors and language that are playful, dependent, or rebellious.

Data Collection and Measurement

Linguistic and Behavioral Analysis

• Dominance Indicators: Authoritative language, directives, commanding nonverbal cues.
• Status Degradation Indicators: Derogatory language, insults, dismissive comments.
• Hierarchy Position Indicators: Language and behavior patterns associated with alpha, beta, gamma, and omega types.
• Transactional Analysis Indicators:
  • Parent Mode: Use of authoritative or nurturing language.
  • Adult Mode: Use of rational, objective language.
  • Child Mode: Use of playful, dependent, or rebellious language.
• Trauma Indicators: Analysis of behaviors indicative of trauma, such as hypervigilance, submissiveness, and codependency.

Behavioral Cues

• Alpha: Commanding tone, confident posture, leading interactions.
• Beta: Supportive language, cooperative behaviors, alignment with alphas.
• Gamma: Neutral language, conformity to group norms, non-confrontational behavior.
• Omega: Submissive language, frequent victim of status degradation, isolated behaviors. High likelihood of being scapegoated, especially if trauma is present.
• Trauma-Affected Individuals: Analysis of behaviors such as hypervigilance, submissiveness, and codependency, and their correlation with omega status.

Contextual Factors

• Group Dynamics: Observations of interactions and roles within the group.
• Situational Triggers: Events or circumstances causing shifts in hierarchy positions.
• Trauma Impact: Contextual analysis of how early childhood trauma influences group dynamics and individual behaviors.

Data Collection Methods

Surveys and Self-Reports

• Hierarchy Position Self-Identification: Individuals identify their perceived position within the hierarchy.
• Experiences of Dominance and Degradation: Self-reported experiences of being dominated or degraded.
• Transactional State Self-Reports: Individuals report their perceived mode (Parent, Adult, Child) during interactions.
• Trauma History: Self-reporting of significant early childhood trauma and its perceived impact on social interactions.

Recorded Interactions

• Linguistic Analysis: Analyze recorded conversations for language patterns.
• Behavioral Observations: Video recordings of group interactions to identify nonverbal cues and behaviors.

Mobile App Development

• Real-Time Analysis: An app that uses NLP and machine learning to analyze speech and provide feedback on hierarchy position indicators, transactional states, and trauma-related behaviors.

Analytical Framework

Descriptive Statistics

• Frequency of Dominance and Degradation Behaviors: Summary statistics on how often these behaviors occur across different hierarchy positions.
• Hierarchy Position Distribution: Distribution of individuals in alpha, beta, gamma, and omega positions.
• Transactional State Distribution: Distribution of interactions by Parent, Adult, and Child modes.
• Trauma Impact: Distribution of hierarchy positions and behaviors among trauma-affected versus non-trauma-affected individuals.

Correlation Analysis

• Correlation Between Behaviors and Hierarchy Positions: Analysis of how dominance and status degradation behaviors correlate with being an alpha, beta, gamma, or omega.
• Impact on Group Dynamics: Correlation between these behaviors and overall group cohesion and productivity.
• Transactional State Correlation: Analysis of the prevalence of Parent, Adult, and Child modes in different hierarchy positions.
• Trauma Correlation: Analysis of how early childhood trauma correlates with social hierarchy position, dominance behaviors, and transactional states.

Regression Analysis

• Predictive Models: Regression models predicting hierarchy position based on observed behaviors, linguistic patterns, and trauma history.
• Impact of Contextual Factors: Analysis of how different situational triggers impact shifts in hierarchy positions.
• Transactional State Impact: Analysis of how different transactional states influence social interactions and hierarchy dynamics.
• Trauma Impact: Regression analysis to predict long-term social and academic outcomes based on trauma history.

Network Analysis

• Social Network Mapping: Mapping social interactions to visualize hierarchy positions and influence patterns.
• Centrality Measures: Identifying key individuals (alphas) and their influence on group dynamics.

Hypotheses and Analysis

1. H1: Individuals exhibiting frequent dominance behaviors are more likely to be classified as alphas.
2. H2: Status degradation behaviors are more common among individuals attempting to transition to a higher hierarchy position (beta to alpha) or protect their current position.
3. H3: Omegas experience the highest frequency of status degradation behaviors and the lowest social power.
4. H4: Dynamic shifts in hierarchy positions are triggered by specific situational factors and changes in group composition.
5. H5: Beta and gamma personalities are guilty of enabling bad group behavior by either supporting or failing to challenge negative actions within the group.
6. H6: Parent mode is more frequently exhibited by alphas and betas during dominance interactions, while Child mode is more common in omegas and during status degradation interactions.
7. H7: Adult mode interactions are associated with higher group cohesion and productivity.
8. H8: Trauma-affected individuals are more likely to be marginalized and pushed to omega status, exhibiting higher frequencies of submissive and codependent behaviors.
9. H9: In high-stress environments (e.g., school under intense social pressure), non-violent attempts to assert dominance by individuals with previously higher social status result in their rapid demotion to omega status, often leading to high-risk outcomes like violence.

Example Data Points and Metrics

Linguistic and Behavioral Indicators

• Alpha: Frequency of leading language, commands, and confident nonverbal cues.
• Beta: Frequency of supportive language, cooperative behaviors.
• Gamma: Frequency of neutral language, conforming behaviors.
• Omega: Frequency of submissive language, victim behaviors. High likelihood of being scapegoated, especially if trauma is present.
• Transactional States: Frequency of language indicating Parent, Adult, or Child modes.
• Trauma Indicators: Analysis of behaviors indicative of trauma, such as hypervigilance, submissiveness, and codependency.

Social Hierarchy Position

• Self-Identification Surveys: Individuals’ self-perception of their position.
• Observer Reports: External observations and classifications based on behavior.
• Trauma History: Identification of trauma-affected individuals and analysis of their hierarchy position.

Group Dynamics

• Interaction Frequency: Number of interactions initiated by each hierarchy type.
• Support and Resistance: Levels of support or resistance encountered by each hierarchy type.
• Trauma Impact: Analysis of interaction frequency and dynamics between trauma-affected and non-trauma-affected individuals.

Dynamic Status Changes

• Event Logs: Record of situational triggers and resulting shifts in hierarchy positions.
• Longitudinal Data: Tracking individuals over time to observe changes in their hierarchy position.
• Trauma Impact: Longitudinal analysis of trauma-affected individuals to assess long-term social and academic outcomes.

Tools and Technologies

1. Natural Language Processing (NLP): For real-time analysis of spoken and written language to identify hierarchy position indicators, transactional states, and trauma-related behaviors.
2. Machine Learning: To develop predictive models for hierarchy positions, behavior patterns, and the impact of trauma.
3. Network Analysis Tools: To map social interactions and visualize hierarchy dynamics.

Experimental and Longitudinal Studies

1. Controlled Experiments: Manipulate social scenarios to observe changes in hierarchy positions and behaviors, particularly focusing on the impact of trauma.
2. Longitudinal Studies: Track individuals over time to observe the long

-term effects of early childhood trauma on social hierarchy positions, behaviors, and outcomes.

Goal: Predicting and Preventing High School Shootings

This comprehensive framework provides the necessary tools to analyze, predict, and intervene in group dynamics to prevent high school shootings. By understanding and monitoring social hierarchies, transactional states, and the impact of early childhood trauma, educators and mental health professionals can identify at-risk individuals and implement timely interventions to foster a safer and more supportive school environment.

I am F(22) and my ex girlfriend is 24. We dated for five months and she was my first wlw relationship. We cared about each other very much but she was moving away, and we already had issues with our communication styles (I work a demanding job and don’t love texting, she wanted to be in contact 24/7 and told me that) and love languages so we mutually broke up. We were on good terms, and would text and check up on each other. Well, that brings us to yesterday she starts texting me about a girl I knew from my high school we will call her E. I had spoken before about how E was one of the first girls I had a crush on,(when we were talking about our past gay experiences) showed her pictures and we had joked they could be doppelgängers because of how similar they looked. She calls me on the phone and says “If I have a really funny story but it involves me making out with a girl do you want to hear it?” I was immediately upset as we had been broken up about 6 days at this point. I said not really but she might as well tell me since she already kind of did. She proceeds to tell me she saw E at a bar, got her number and they made out all night. I hung up and she texted me over and over asking what was wrong, So I told her I thought it was fucked up to try and rub that in my face, and she knew I had liked E. She denied EVER knowing any of that, claimed she just wanted to be friends, she thought I’d find it hilarious etc. We basically went back and forth over text for awhile until I angrily asked her to please just give me space and I’m upset with her for being so petty. She sends me countless voice messages of her crying and voicemails while i’m at work and stuff. She said she can’t believe I would ever think she’s being petty or malicious after all we’ve been though, that she’s upset I can’t see her side, she doesn’t want to lose me as a friend etc. At this point I was sick of arguing and basically called a truce, I was like look I’m hurt I just don’t really believe your 100% innocence, but I don’t want to dwell, I said I still care about her and we can be friends but I needed some time. She kept bringing it up and drunk texting me and everytime I would try to explain why I was “still” mad she would just act like I was attacking her. I never said anything bad about her, her character, our past relationship or anything, only about the E situation, and yes I was angry, and felt betrayed but at the end of the day we were already broken up and long distance so I told her I don’t want to remain friends with someone I can’t trust, she says she doesn’t want to be friends with someone who “beats them over the head with their mistakes” even though I had tried to end this conversation multiple times. Well here’s the kicker, she asked if we could talk on the phone because she’s in a bad mental place. I said of course and told her when I would be off work that day. She texts me later and says she doesn’t want to speak to me actually and wants space. I say sure just let me know if you need anything, She proceeds to send me a 6 minute long voice message of her crying saying how the past three days she hasn’t ate or slept and how I caused her to have multiple panic attacks and the only person that ever made her feel as bad as I did is her emotionally abusive dad. She compares me to him multiple times and basically blames me for causing her so much stress. I am very hurt over this comparison, and as someone who grew up in a very chaotic broken home myself I feel it is very unfair to try to flip all that onto me. I would never compare her to my parents or try to pin any of my childhood issues on her. But now I’m just spiraling and really need some outside opinions. AITA for making her feel like her dad?

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I am F(22) and my ex girlfriend is 24. We dated for five months and she was my first wlw relationship. We cared about each other very much but she was moving away, and we already had issues with our communication styles (I work a demanding job and don’t love texting, she wanted to be in contact 24/7 and told me that) and love languages so we mutually broke up. We were on good terms, and would text and check up on each other. Well, that brings us to yesterday she starts texting me about a girl I knew from my high school we will call her E. I had spoken before about how E was one of the first girls I had a crush on,(when we were talking about our past gay experiences) showed her pictures and we had joked they could be doppelgängers because of how similar they looked. She calls me on the phone and says “If I have a really funny story but it involves me making out with a girl do you want to hear it?” I was immediately upset as we had been broken up about 6 days at this point. I said not really but she might as well tell me since she already kind of did. She proceeds to tell me she saw E at a bar, got her number and they made out all night. I hung up and she texted me over and over asking what was wrong, So I told her I thought it was fucked up to try and rub that in my face, and she knew I had liked E. She denied EVER knowing any of that, claimed she just wanted to be friends, she thought I’d find it hilarious etc. We basically went back and forth over text for awhile until I angrily asked her to please just give me space and I’m upset with her for being so petty. She sends me countless voice messages of her crying and voicemails while i’m at work and stuff. She said she can’t believe I would ever think she’s being petty or malicious after all we’ve been though, that she’s upset I can’t see her side, she doesn’t want to lose me as a friend etc. At this point I was sick of arguing and basically called a truce, I was like look I’m hurt I just don’t really believe your 100% innocence, but I don’t want to dwell, I said I still care about her and we can be friends but I needed some time. She kept bringing it up and drunk texting me and everytime I would try to explain why I was “still” mad she would just act like I was attacking her. I never said anything bad about her, her character, our past relationship or anything, only about the E situation, and yes I was angry, and felt betrayed but at the end of the day we were already broken up and long distance so I told her I don’t want to remain friends with someone I can’t trust, she says she doesn’t want to be friends with someone who “beats them over the head with their mistakes” even though I had tried to end this conversation multiple times. Well here’s the kicker, she asked if we could talk on the phone because she’s in a bad mental place. I said of course and told her when I would be off work that day. She texts me later and says she doesn’t want to speak to me actually and wants space. I say sure just let me know if you need anything, She proceeds to send me a 6 minute long voice message of her crying saying how the past three days she hasn’t ate or slept and how I caused her to have multiple panic attacks and the only person that ever made her feel as bad as I did is her emotionally abusive dad. She compares me to him multiple times and basically blames me for causing her so much stress. I am very hurt over this comparison, and as someone who grew up in a very chaotic broken home myself I feel it is very unfair to try to flip all that onto me. I would never compare her to my parents or try to pin any of my childhood issues on her. But now I’m just spiraling and really need some outside opinions.
NOTE: I immediately put my feelings aside after the voice message and called her and told her that first and foremost I never want to make her feel like her father did, and regardless of whatever I intended that I am truly so sorry, and that’s not okay for me to make her feel like that, and that comparison shocked me and hurt to hear. *She didn’t really care to discuss anything I was upset about, but gladly accepted my apology.