Why is my mouth so sour

Hi vegetable hater here but trying not to be, I hate vegetables. I understand their health benefits so I force myself to eat them, however I just hate most of them. Broccoli, cabbage, green beans, cauliflower, carrots, brussels sprouts are all very musty tasting and sour. I do not boil or steam them to mush either. My parents did that and I thought they were just all supposed to taste like farts for years. In my late teens i was enlightened to how to cook them so they don't become gross mush. However, they still taste quite sour and sometimes musty, even if I stir fry or bake them till they have just a slight bite and are majority cooked (like I was told I am supposed to). I season them with Asian sauces but even that won't help entirely. I just feel like I am doing something wrong and can't see what. I read it could be from extra taste buds and while science is amazing for explaining why I still don't know how to fix it so my cooking doesn't taste sour or musty. It just makes me hate those vegetables so much! But they are very healthy and cheap so i want to find recipes or ways to cook them and not have them be sour and musty. Then there is pumpkin and sweet potatoes. I do not have an allergy they just make me feel ill. I can eat them as muffins or bread but other than that they make me feel sick from how sweet they are. I cant even put them in my mouth without feeling nausauos so i avoid them a lot. I have tried over the years new recipes but it has remained the same so far. The texture is not great either. I have tried sweet potato fries and gnocchi and the gummy texture and sweet flavour is just gross and sickening to me. Sonce pumpkin and sweet potato are so nutrient dense i want to try some more recipes and see if any are enjoyable for me. I am trying to improve my eating habits and enjoy eating more vegetables that aren't extremely bland like zucchini or aromatics. I am still eating all the sour vegetabkes fyi , I just hate them, so it would be nice to find some recioes or way to eat them and actually like it. If anyone has suggestions I'd love to hear them :) For health reasons I cannot have a lot of complex carbohydrates so I do not want to eat a lot of breadlike products which is the only way i have found i can stomach sweet potato and pumpkin without feeling nauseous. If anyone has any suggestions for recipes for sweet potato and pumpkin that don't make it taste overly sweet or gummy I would love some of those. Thanks all for your suggestions.

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?

This is the first time I have written something of this length, and is more of an exercise in self-therapy than anything else. Disclaimer: This story contains conversations about child abuse. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it.
Nathan’s number appeared on my phone screen. I debated whether or not to answer it. We hadn’t been on speaking terms for a while, and while we did keep in touch sporadically, it was usually because of important family issues. I didn’t know of anything happening with mom or dad, nor with Talia or Rio, so I let it go to voicemail. I could always call him back later. I placed the phone back in my pocket, and returned to cleaning my camera. The phone buzzed again. A text message came through. I read the preview line from the home screen. “The city declared eminent domain on the house” I unlocked my phone, read the full text message, and dialed my brother.
I wasn't able to get any closer to the house than a few blocks. Most of the area was blocked off with chain link fencing and construction equipment in preparation for the demolition that was supposed to take place within the coming days. The barriers didn’t prevent people from walking in to the neighborhood, but it hindered scrappers from coming in and stripping the houses of copper wiring and plumbing.
I grabbed my camera bag out of the trunk of my car along with my tripod. I shouldered it and hooked the tripod to my bag. I pulled my water bottle out of the center console and shut the door. I stood next to my car surveying the neighborhood. 12 city blocks of old single family homes comprised the neighborhood where I grew up. Some of the houses had been empty for months, others for years. There was an eerie silence that permeated the still air. I could not hear the familiar sounds of people, pets, or cars. I locked the car and put my keys in my pocket. I patted my jacket down to ensure I had what I needed. After a quick check, I started my walk.
The sidewalk of the old neighborhood streets still bore the familiar cracks and grind marks from years of buckling and remedy. Leaves dropped by the trees still lay scattered all along the pathways and sidewalk. Korina’s house was the first house I encountered as I made my way through a gap in the fence. The yard was overgrown with tall grass and thistle. I could see the faded blue paint of the old house contrasting the green and browns of the lawn. The chain link fence that marked off the corner property was nearly invisible through the thick brush. As I continued walking west towards 110th, I started to feel something was off. The streets seemed wider than I remembered. It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but eventually I realized what was different. There were no cars.
The streets here typically had cars lined bumper to bumper in any spot available, and were visible from block to block. The absence of all these vehicles made me realize just how deserted the neighborhood really was. House after house, yard after yard, the telltale signs of desertion reinforced what I could see from the moment I passed the construction fence: This was no longer my neighborhood. There were no signs of life, and no one I could expect to find still here. Abandonment was the new normal here. I continued on, glancing at houses and recalling memories of summer bike rides, and daily walks with dogs I used to have. I remembered walks home from school, and chasing after ice cream trucks when they passed our houses. I smiled a bit as I remembered more and more of my years spent here. I don’t quite know just why I was smiling. There were plenty of bad memories here too. Fights, yelling, being beat up, being robbed. I could remember failed friendships, lost loves, and bitter feelings of failures too.
Still, I felt a certain amount of nostalgia despite the weight of these negative feelings. I almost wanted to experience everything again, although I wasn't sure why I was feeling this way. Concrete, asphalt, billboards and liquor stores were the normal vistas of everyday life. Occasionally, after a good rainstorm, the grey haze of smog would lift, and the mountains would be visible to the north. At least, they would be visible until mid-morning when the exhaust from a million cars covered them behind a veil of pollution.
It wasn’t until the first time I travelled out of the city that I realized there was more to see. Traveling up the coast north along the Pacific Coast Highway introduced me to scenes of deep blue ocean water spanning the width of my vision. Driving up Highway 3 introduced me to the permeating scent of Pine and Fir trees. The two-lane stretch of highway from Portland to Tillamook introduced me to lush green forests that I had only ever read about. When I came home to the same old dirty, dusty concrete and boiling summer asphalt, I had made up my mind. I would do everything it took to leave this place. I would not spend another day longer than was necessary living in cramped quarters and fighting for parking space.
I arrived to the house, and paused at the gate. The house sat in contrast of what the rest of the neighborhood looked like. Instead of overgrown grass and tall weeds all over the place, the landscaping showed signs of relatively recent work. The guava tree in the front lawn still had some fruit ready to be picked, and the avocado tree on the other side of the pathway was still weighed down by its own fruit. Flowers still bloomed in the raised bed in front of the house. My brother had clearly tried to keep up on things until the last possible moment. The house, too, looked better than what I expected after walking up 4 blocks and seeing nothing but dilapidated houses and unkempt yards. I opened the gate and walked up to the small porch. The metal gate that enclosed it was gone having been removed by my brother when he took over the property. It looked nice to see it open instead of the cage it once felt like.
I turned the knob on the door, but it didn't give. Ever a creature of habit, my brother had locked the door when he left. Of course, he did. I sighed and prepared to find another way in when I remembered my parents hiding a spare key. I wasn’t sure if it would still be there, but after running my hands along the back side of the gutter downspout, I was rewarded for my efforts. I unlocked the front door and stepped into the front living room, the sounds of my footsteps and the closing door echoing in the empty space. The room felt both larger and smaller than I remembered it. I suppose it was lack of furniture that made it feel larger, but it still felt smaller than I remember. The result of growing taller throughout the years I suppose. I slowly walked along the slate tile floor towards the central hallway that connected the front of the house to the back bedrooms. I wasn't entirely sure that just because the front door was locked, that there wasn't some squatter looking for a little temporary shelter within the back rooms. I carefully and silently crept step by step towards what used to be the bedroom shared by my sister and me. I stuck my head in and gave the room a cursory glance. It was empty, thankfully. I moved back into the hallway and peered into the bedroom across the hall. This is where both of my brothers had shared a room. It too, was empty save for a few boxes holding hardware and doorknobs from the closet doors of the bedroom. I walked back towards the back of the house where my parent's bedroom was. The walls in the hallway bore the dusty signs where picture once hung. The bedroom door was open. I stepped inside, and looked around. The old avocado paint that my mom had picked out years ago still adorned the walls. Walking further towards the addition that was the small room my grandma and grandpa lived in showed that there was no one here. I breathed a sigh of relief as I set my bag down and set up my tripod. I reached into my bag a pulled out an envelope of old photos. These were old snapshots that we had all taken at some point in time in the house. There were pictures of all of us sitting at the dining room table playing a game of Monopoly. There was a picture of my brother and sister sitting on a couch in the front living room. There was a picture of me hanging on the bars of the front porch. I looked through them all and held them in place in front of me as if I were holding a window to the past.
Each picture made the lump in my throat grow as I started to struggle to control my emotions. There was history here, and soon it would all be gone. This is the place where my parents had raised four kids. They had taken care of my grandparents in their twilight years here. My Aunt and my grandmother had both died in this house. Birthdays, graduation parties, and anniversaries had been celebrated here. The echoes of life had reverberated within the walls of this place. Now, the house sat silent. It would never again know happy screams of kids having a water-balloon war out in the front yard, nor would it hear the cries of anguish as the matriarch of the family passed away surrounded by her family. What once was a home full of life was now just an empty house made of drywall and paint. I sat there for a moment contemplating just how much family history was actually made here. As I thought hard about my siblings and my parents, I felt pained at the thought of our strained relationships. We had all scattered once we had the opportunity to be free of each other. My oldest brother had married and moved away as soon as possible. My sister now lived in northern California. My parents too had moved away. I was now living in Utah. Only my older brother had remained behind. The lump grew larger in my throat as tears welled up in my eyes. I held back sobs of anger and pain. Why was I hurting? Hadn’t I dealt with these issues already? I walked back to my old bedroom and sat down under the window. I pulled my head down into my knees and cried. I could hear yelling and screaming in my head. Shouting matches between siblings and parents, brothers and sister, rattled inside my brain, making the pain grow. I sat there and cried. I hadn’t cried like this in a long time. Eventually I ran out of tears and tired gasps of sorrow and regret washed over me as a blanket of drowsiness enveloped me. I leaned my head back and fell asleep.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps. It took me a moment to realize what I was hearing and hurriedly stood up. Had someone followed me? I knew the police were patrolling the area sporadically. Had they seen me enter the house? I knew there would be a possibility of getting a trespassing citation, but I figured I could either talk my way out of it seeing as to how I was a former resident, or I could probably fight the citation in court if the judge knew why I was there in the first place. Ultimately, passing through the gate had been a calculated risk that I was willing to take for the sake of my art. I got up from my corner of the room and moved towards the door. If there was someone in the house, I needed to know. I didn’t want my gear to stolen, and if there was a cop in the house, I wanted to ensure I didn’t get shot.
I was greeted by the sight of a startled chubby boy standing on the other side of the door. His round cherubic face was crowned by a head of short curly hair. His hazel green eyes stared widely back at me. He clearly didn’t expect someone to be here in the house. His body recoiled in fear as he cowered back towards the hallway. “Wait, what are you doing here?” I asked as non-threateningly as I could. The boy muttered something that I couldn’t quite make out. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you” I replied. “Are you here to rob us?” he timidly responded. “Rob you? What are you talking about?” I asked as confusion set in. “What are you doing here?” It was his turn to be confused. “Uh…I….live here?” he replied. “What do you mean you live here? No one lives-“I stopped midsentence. I hadn’t noticed in my initial shock but the room wasn’t the same. A familiar blue couch caught the corner of my eye. In front of that was an old console TV with a partially broken antenna hanging on the wall behind it. I walked further in to the living room to notice wood paneling on the walls. A large mirror hung on the wall to my left. Familiar yellow lamps sat on round drop-leaf tables on either side of the couch. A large hutch sat in one corner, a collection of letters and bills, mail advertisements, and a phone book covered scattered over it. “What just happened?” I asked out loud to no one in particular. I was thoroughly mystified by what my eyes were seeing. I had walked into the house from the front door and had stepped into an empty white room with slate floor tiles, but somehow now found myself in a furnished room with brown carpet that was all so familiar to me, yet was nothing but a distant faded memory. I turned to look at the boy still startled by the intrusion of a strange man looking wildly around the room in total shock.
“You can take what you want, just please let me go. I don’t want problems.” He stated his voice still shrill with anxiety. I blinked a few times as I tried to process just what the heck was going on. I gathered my thoughts as best I could and tried to reassure him. “Kid, I’m not here to rob anyone. I was just-“I shook my head “Where the hell am I? Am I having a dream?” I asked myself. “I must be dreaming. I’m just tired and still sleeping. This is all a dream. Yeah, that’s it.” I needed to sit down. Being back in the old house must have overtaxed my senses, I told myself. I’d having a dream about an old memory. I walked over to the chair next to the couch and sat down. I sunk into it and rested my head back towards the wall.
The boy kept his distance, but sensed I wasn’t there to hurt him. He looked me over with anxious curiosity. He stood at the far end of the couch, examining me while he played out scenarios in his head in preparation for a quick exit. “Why are you in my house?” he asked me. “Dude, this is all just a dream I’m having. I’m not really here.” He reached over to the couch and picked up a pillow. He reared his arm and threw it at me. It landed in my lap. “I don’t know, man. You sure seem to be here.” He said to me. I opened my eyes, startled. I looked down at the pillow he tossed and examined it. I ran my hand over the fabric and felt its texture. I remember this pillow. This was the pillow I would roll under my head as I lay on the couch and watched TV as a kid. A sudden realization hit me as I looked around the room with fresh eyes. No longer was I blinded by the fog of confusion. I knew exactly where I was.
I was home.
I looked at the boy still standing at the edge of the couch. I looked him over and realized who he actually was. I stared in disbelief as I smiled and tried to put him at ease. “It’s ok Johnny. I’m not here to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. Please, sit down” I told him. I motioned to his end of the couch. “Who are you, and why are you here?” he asked me.
“This will be hard to believe, but I’m you” I said with an incredulous tone, “I’m not sure how I ended up here, but I’m here.” He looked at me as I had grown a second head. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could you be me? Did we invent time travel? Oh! Are we secret government agents with the CIA?”
I chuckled. “Wait, wait, wait. Let’s start at the beginning. I’m you at 38 years old. You’re…what, 11… 12 years old? It makes sense. I fell asleep under the window in my- our old bedroom. I didn’t come here on purpose or in a machine. And no, I’m not a government agent.” His face contorted to display understanding, disappointment and finally suspicion. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in towards me. “How do I know you’re really me?” he asked. I thought about it for a moment. How could I prove to him that I was who I said I was? A few seconds of silence settled between us. I stroked my chin, thinking of a solution.
“I have a better idea. Ask me questions that only you know the answers to.” “Okay” he responded. He glanced around the room trying to come up with something. His eyes fixated on the Nintendo sitting under the TV cabinet. “What game do me and Nathan have a map of?” I looked over at the NES. I hadn’t thought about this for years, but I knew instantly what he was asking. “YOU don’t have anything. Nathan is the one that made the map for Section Z” His jaw dropped. He tried to trick me, but his plan failed. He knew well and good that Nathan never let him play. It was always ‘I’ll let you play when I die’ or, ‘you can play when I’m done’. The problem was that he never followed through. Usually by the time Nathan was done, the NES was overheated, and the game would no longer load until it cooled down. By that point, it was time for bed.
“How do you know that?” he asked in astonishment. “I know these things because I’m you. Just like I know that you wear t-shirts to the pool because you’re embarrassed by what others will think of your body. I know that you used to think that people that die off in movies were prisoners that were set to be executed from death row, so they used them for making movies. I know all about you because I’m you”
Johnny sat on the end of the couch in bewilderment, his mouth slightly agape. He had never told anyone any of this. He didn’t have any close friends to talk to about such things, and those friends he did have were more acquaintances than friends. There was only one way he could possibly know these things. He was talking to his future self.
I could see Johnny’s mind completely explode. There lay endless possibility and the answers to a million questions he could ask about his own future. He started to ask a question, only to stop, close his mouth, and try asking another. I knew if he kept this up he would have a stroke or something. “Dude, calm yourself. Let’s talk this out rationally, otherwise you’ll end up stroking out or something.” I told him. He took a deep breath and I could hear him muttering quietly. I knew he was trying to form a coherent sentence before he actually spoke it. I did it all the time. “Ok, first of all, are we rich?” he asked with tempered expectation. I chuckled and grinned back at him. “No, not at all. If I was rich, would I be dressed like this?” I replied as I motioned to my beat up brown Vans and worn out jeans and T-shirt. “We-, I – make enough to get by. I’m not poor, but I earn enough to pay the bills.” His face grew a smirk as he commented “Yeah, I figured. What do I do for work? I mean, what do you do for work?” I thought about it for a second. I wondered how much information I should divulge to a younger me. I still didn’t think this whole situation was really happening, but if it was, I probably should proceed with caution. “Well, it’s complicated. I do a little bit of everything. You know how you’re constantly taking things apart? Let’s just say that it’s good to put them back together in order to keep them working. Take good notes on paper if you need to, and make sure you have a clean work area so you can keep track of all the parts.” He gave me a sheepish look. He knew exactly what I was talking about. I had spent countless hours sneaking dad’s tools to my room so I could figure out how something was built and try to figure out how it worked. I had gotten myself into some pretty bad trouble with dad over a drill, his timing light, and other stuff I had taken from his room. His belt had become quite familiar with my butt cheeks.
I gave him a knowing smile. “What else do you want to know?” He thought about it for a second. “Do we have a girlfriend?” I laughed, probably a little more than I should have because his face contorted into a sour frown. “You don’t need to be a jerk about it” he scowled. I continued to chuckle. “Yeah we have a girlfriend. We have more than a girlfriend” I could tell he was irritated with my vague indirect answers. I knew what he was asking. I remember the crush I had on my neighbor across the street. We had been friends since kindergarten, and had been classmates for 1st, 2nd, and 4th grades. We got along really well, and I knew from around 12 or 13 that I wanted to be her boyfriend. Unfortunately, things never progressed beyond the ‘just friends’ stage of things. It wasn’t from lack of effort on my part. We had just grown up together most of our lives that she didn’t see me as anything more than a brother and friend. “Dude, look. You just started to go through changes and you are starting to notice girls, but that doesn’t mean that you need to love every girl that shows you a little kindness or subtle interest. You need to slow down and let things happen naturally. You can’t force a relationship with someone.” Johnny pondered these words for a moment. I sat back and put my feet up on the coffee table. I looked around the room some more while I waited for another question. There was so much I had forgotten, but being back here had unlocked more and more memories that continued to wash over me. I was trying to hold on to my cool as not all those churned up recollections were pleasant. I stood up and walked over to the front door to peer outside the small central window embedded into the center of it. I could see the old neighborhood as I remembered it all those years ago. The lot across the street that served as a parking area for those that worked at the wheel works at the end of the block was empty of cars. I furrowed my brow as I thought for a moment. An empty lot meant it was afterhours or the weekend.
The gears in my own head started turning. “Wait, where is everyone?” I asked Johnny. Johnny turned to look at me still processing my last response. “Uh..oh, Mom and dad are out of town. They took a trip east this time. I think Rio said they are in Arizona right now. Rio and Nathan went out to get some food and to rent some movies from Video Showcase. Knowing them they’ll eat out first. Talia is staying over at Tia Rosie’s place today with her friends.” I grunted at his response. My mind was wandering as he mentioned Talia and Tia Rosie.
A sudden sharp pain pieced my heart. The pain of a thousand memories now unsealed spilled out from the box I had locked them away in. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes as I turned back to look at Johnny. He felt it too. He stared at the floor with an intensity that made me think it would burst into flames at any moment. I walked back over to him and sat next to him. He didn’t move. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and he threw himself into me. I could feel the tears dripping onto me as he sobbed intensely. “Hey man, its ok. It’s going to be ok.” I said as my own tears started to flow uncontrollably. I pulled him close and draped my other arm around him.
I knew the pain he was feeling. It was such a heavy burden, and I knew there was no one he felt he could talk to. I remembered it all so vividly. We sat there for what seemed to be an eternity. When we finally stopped sobbing, and our noses ran dry, we tried to breathe our way through to calmness. I got up and knelt in front of him. “Johnny, listen to me and remember what it is that I’m about to say to you. You are stronger than you think. You are stronger than you believe. NO ONE should ever have to go through this. Just because it happened to Talia, doesn’t mean you have to put up with it any longer. I know you didn’t think it was wrong, but I’m telling you that what she is doing to you is wrong. Talking to mom and dad isn’t going to make them hate you. You are not doing this to her, she is doing it to you. I’m not making excuses for her, but she is also more damaged than anyone realizes, and she is also dealing with the same level of pain you are. Remember that we do unto others what has been done to us. That doesn’t mean we need to continue the cycle of abuse” The lump in my throat grew immense at my own statement. I swallowed it as best I could and continued “You are going to deal with this pain a little bit at a time, and you’ll slowly get over this. It’s like a broken bone. When it happens, you don’t realize how bad the pain is until the adrenaline wears off, but then the immense pain is there. Just remember that this will pass. Just like a broken bone, you will heal over time, and one day, you will realize that the pain is gone and the bone is no longer broken. You’ll remember the pain, but it won’t hurt anymore.”
Johnny sat there in stunned silence. I knew he didn’t have anyone to help him through this. He couldn’t talk to Rio or Nathan about what was going on. Mom and Dad were constantly working to keep the family fed and sheltered and while they provided materially for their kids, emotional help was less available. Perhaps it was due to their energies being divided into 4 kids, a mortgage and multiple jobs, or perhaps it was also the culture of not talking about problems. Either way, they needed to know what was happening. They wouldn’t be able to fix it otherwise. “They’re going to be mad at me” he finally said after a few moments of silence. “No they won’t be. They love us all. I know you’re not used to hearing it, but they do love you. Everything they do is because of their love for us. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Telling them isn’t going to cause them to be angry.” I thought for a moment to find a good analogy. “You love Odie and Lady, right?” He nodded in agreement. “Ok, how would you feel if you knew someone you trusted was coming to the house and beating up our dogs when we weren’t around?” He thought about it for a second before his face changed to anger. “I’d want to kill them!” “Yes, but would you also feel sad that you weren’t there to try to protect them?” I reasoned. His face changed again. He understood what I was saying. Mom and Dad would be angry, but not necessarily at him. They would also feel a great sadness knowing that someone was hurting their child.
I smiled at him. He understood. I nodded. “Dude…You’re going to come to understand that life is not what you think it will be. Life is messy and can change in an instant. The plans you make today may not make it to next week. A lifelong goal can be derailed because of something out of your control. Mom and dad have spent their life protecting us with the goal of keeping us safe, but circumstances out of their control have affected their kids, and now we- you all have to deal with the fallout. Just remember that you are not the culprit. Yes, mom and dad will be hurt and angry, but not at you. Trust them. They don’t do things to hurt us” Johnny hugged me. I- He didn’t have many people he could trust and open up to. He liked to talk a lot about everything going on in his life, no matter how trivial. Everything, except this. This was a shameful topic, and he didn’t feel like anyone would understand why he didn’t go to an adult sooner. The problem was simple. He simply didn’t understand that it was wrong. Now that he had an adult that he could talk to, himself no less, he wanted to lift this burden off his shoulders. He was happy to have found someone and he hugged me tightly. I hugged him back just at tightly. It wasn’t every day that I could meet my younger self and help to comfort them. “Thank you” he said to me.
The world darkened, and everything faded to black.
I lifted my head out of my knees and looked around. I was sitting under the window in my old bedroom again. Had I fallen asleep? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. I was emotionally drained and incredibly tired. I hadn’t had sleep like that in years. I got to my feet and looked around the room briefly before walking out to mom and dad’s old room. I grabbed my camera and slowly walked the house, snapping picture after picture. The only sound to be heard was the sound of the camera shutter and my soft footsteps. I thought about my dream as I took pictures.
Upon entering my room, a random memory hit me.
The stash.
I was pretty sure I had taken the hidden box when I moved out all those years ago, but since I was here, I should double check. Heading into the closet, I pushed the panel that led to the attic space out of the way and peered in. I couldn’t see anything, so I reached up there to feel around. The box was indeed gone. I felt around for a few more seconds and was surprised to feel what felt like a thick envelope. I didn’t remember leaving anything up there, but after pulling it down and giving it a cursory glance, I figured it was an old envelope of lost love letters. It wasn’t until I blew off the thick layer of dust that I realized what I was holding. It was a letter. Not just any letter. It was addressed to me.
Under the now semi-cleared layer of dust were the words “To be opened by future me”. I looked at it for a few moments before opening it. I couldn’t remember making this at all, much less storing it up in my secret hiding spot. If ever I hid something, it was in the stash box. My hands shook a bit as I started to open the envelope and pulled out the yellowed pages inside. I started reading.
"Dear Future John. I have spent the last few years remembering a dream I had when I was younger. Life was…difficult at that time, and I spent a lot of time escaping my reality by reading a lot of books and watching a lot of TV. On the off-chance that what I think is a dream really happened. I wanted to write some things down in an effort to give you my thanks. I merely consider myself a conveyer of thanks, although I will pile on my own thanks to you for your words of encouragement. I remember finding a stranger in the house one day while I was home alone. I was afraid he was there to hurt me at first, but after a few moments, I came to realize I was meeting myself. Well, I was meeting me, but from the future. I think he said he was in his 40’s, but I couldn’t tell you with any certainty. Either way, we talked. We talked about life, and what the future held in store for us…
Mostly though, we talked about the abuse. Well, Talked is being generous. We cried, and then we talked. I don’t remember exactly what he told me, but I remember how he made me feel. He made me feel safe. I felt like I could trust him. Trust myself. In the end, he gave me the courage to stand up for myself both at home and at school. He also gave me the courage to talk to mom and dad about what was going on between me and Talia. I do remember being afraid that I would be punished, but he reassured me that they wouldn’t, and that they loved me.
It was a difficult and awkward conversation, but in the end, arrangements were made for me to share a room with Rio and Nathan. I didn’t have much of a relationship with Talia for a long while, but after some years, we managed to patch things up. She apologized to me, and I came to understand the abuse she herself was subjected to by so-called family friends. She didn’t tell me this in an effort to excuse it, but to merely help give me closure to a difficult time from my own childhood. Mom and dad promised to be more attentive to us and we sort of established what I guess you would call an open door policy. We talk more about stuff that’s happening in our lives. Mom is much easier to talk to now. Dad is a little more patient with us too. I apologized to them for not coming to them sooner, and dad gave me a “nugget of wisdom” that I think I’ll live by: We can’t fix what we don’t know is broken. I’ve tried to make sure I talk to them when something is wrong, and I’ve tried to implement that in my life so I don’t have problems with other people.
I’m trying to grow up to be a good guy. I want to have good relationships with people. Nathan says I’m turning into a people pleaser, but I don’t necessarily see that as a terrible thing. I know when to say no to someone. Well, either way, I wanted to make sure I thank you for the help you gave us. I probably won’t remember writing this, but I hope I do find it again someday. Here’s hoping I turn into the man I feel you are. -John Age 16."
I stared at the letter, the words blurring as tears welled up in my eyes. I quickly brushed them away as I quietly spoke to no one in particular. “Thanks guys. I hope I live up to your expectations” I folded the letter, placed it in my pocket, and walked out of the room. After picking up my backpack and tripod, I silently walked towards the front door, my footsteps echoing in the empty house. I turned to look back at the empty living room one last time, and after a moment, I walked out.

“the initial grip of fear, that turns into the unexpected earning for your capture.”
the poetry in here is about survival and surrender. it delves into the complexities of a karmic love. being trapped in a situation, while still being aware of its toxicity. my poems are meant to convey the tumultuous journey of being in love with a narcissist. (your “capture”) the lessons you learn, as painful as they can be, invite you to take a step into the shadow side of love. if you feel at home here, I’m truly sorry. there is a way out. I hope you break free. -with so much love, gillian.
and when you retreat,
i’ll wear this shirt for days.
intoxicating & sweet,
with your cologne interlaced.
breathing in your deceit,
it kind of feels like mace.
denial mixed with defeat.

• i’ve always had bad taste.

i knew you weren’t game.
still i chose to play.
it isn't fair to blame.
believe me, i carry my own shame.
poured myself into your glass,
played the waiting game.
leaking through your cracks,
our imperfections the same.
-i recognize a glass half full, even when it’s shattered.
every summer, we reheat.
you left your roots behind
seasons change, but cycles repeat.
if you see the same tree in the forest twice,
it’s time to face defeat.
must come to terms,
the truth can be bleak.
-you’re lost.
got a god complex,
but you’re not religious.
searching for who’s next.
never fearing Jesus.
sit back & count your checks.
blame your mistakes on demons.
make your excuses.
you’ve got your reasons.
-false prophecy
you remind me of an onion.
make me cry as I peel away at you,
in search for your seed.
but you’re just a facade of skins.
layers of deception,
concealing the truth.
disappointing.
you have no core,
only hollow creed.
-my mother’s disdain for onions.
there’s always been a haze between us.
murky, convoluted, undefined.
more than friends, less than lovers.
simultaneously strangers.
but in this ambiguity, I find solace.
-for grey is my favorite color.
i’ll play bartender,
make you something nice.
your heart in my hand,
gripping your ice.
drain me dry,
leave me hollow & still.
next week you’ll return,
thirsty for your refill.
-whiskey sour
bittersweet.
should have read the label.
“poison”
sitting so pretty on my table.
calling like an offering,
tempting & fatal.
it won’t go down smooth,
leave me unstable.
i tried to resist, i was unable.
now i see that love exists,
but only in fables.
-why do mistakes taste so good?
your lips left a bruise.
just here to distract.
but i admit i’m confused
when you kiss me like that.
aware i’m being used.
still comfortable where i’m at.
position i choose
complacent doormat.
-welcome home
you prefer car rides.
a space to talk, yet evade my gaze.
unable to sit still, restless in your ways.
never one to settle, always seeking the next best fling.
oh, how I long for the days when adderall made you sing.
-my fuel light is on
I broke my own heart,
more times than a few.
i may have lied,
but never to you.
if i faced the truth,
then what’s left to do?
i’m comfortable here,
wasting my youth.
i hate to admit it,
but i know it’s true.
i’m scared of change,
you run from it too.
i won’t forgive myself,
for always forgiving you.
-can you be home sick from people too?
You’re dead to me.
-Necrophiliac.
come on.
i forgave you,
without an apology.
convinced myself it was closure.
started our anthology.
this will never be over.
it’s in our biology.
let’s have a do over.
can you just come fuck me?
-delusional. & i can’t rhyme either.
i’ll read between your lines,
decipher each clue.
search for the signs,
follow your cue.
you’ve spun me around,
think i’ve lost a few screws.
still i rise, dust off the bruise.
maybe i’m drawn to a challenge,
perhaps it’s not you.
denial is my shield.
my safe space, my refuge.
the truth will not prevail
defeat? i refuse.
my final boss,
I aim to subdue.
-sore loser.
my mom said i felt cold.
I always tell the truth.
the words escaped my mouth.
“i get it from you.”
funny, she hugs me now.
never in my youth.
conceal carry my trauma.
play it cool, keep it smooth.
use my words as a weapon.
daddy taught me how to shoot.
-target practice
it’s lonely as a ghost,
been trapped here for years.
lingering around,
mopping up your tears.
do you sense my presence?
can you feel me near?
if I dare make a sound,
will you even hear?
or am I just a whisper?
it’s never been quite clear.
promised to stay beside you,
my love was sincere.
-invisible
afraid to release
what's just a mist.
I must learn to respect
your lack of interest.
hard pill to swallow,
if i could just take the hint.
i hate letting go
of what doesn't exist.
-maybe i’m the problem
chasing you down as you flee,
why look back, just to see?
i’m gaining distance, is this what you need?
only now I realize, I'm your source of glow.
i feed your flame, you need me to grow.
without my warmth, will your embers persist?
or will they die out, because I was your wick?
I can go the distance, even do it quick.
didn’t think I could pass you but, tag, you're it.
so when your lost in the dark,
just look for my light.
for my flames eternal.
vivacious and bright.
-Ruled by the Sun.
you love her like a one-way mirror.
boosting your ego, making thoughts clearer.
she stands before you, but can you even see her?
soon her time will come, to be valued, to be known.
to be more than a reflection, to be art on her own.
-shattered
i feel as though i’m trapped
in a museum.
exhibits of my past.
meticulously preserved & on display.
forced to observe and to my dismay..
no exits.
-i don’t like it here
i am an esteemed professor.
teaching you how to love.
i am a well-traveled guide.
leading you to your full potential.
i am a warrior.
going to battle for your reputation.
i am an artist.
molding you into your greatest self.
i am a generous humanitarian.
donating my most precious piece to another women.
she sees no flaws.
enamored by your beauty.
a saw the hardened marble slab
i chiseled away for years.
only to reveal the beauty underneath for someone else to cherish.
-wasted potential
when we were pretending to be strangers, I loved you from afar.
when we were playing house,
I welcomed you with all my heart.
you left me here, with nothing but a scar.
sad and empty.
headed to a bar.
light up a cigarette.
fill me with tar.
I hope you think of me when you see a shooting star.
-maybe you loved me in a past life
only one day will i realize
the last thing i should feel is surprise
my personality has been downsized
because i chose to compromise
with a man wearing a disguise
your plan was always devised
but I’ll meet you at our spot
-king sized
you can fill your bed with anyone.
but who can fill your void?
you’ll never solve the puzzle
-sincerely, the missing piece.
ravenous for praise.
the apex predator.
you feed on the weak.
but never leave satisfied.
your greedy but insatiable.
devoured your feast
how can you be famished?
-taste me and see me why you’ve been starving
there’s things i wanna say to you.
but i’ll just let you be.
you have a way of always avoiding
-accountability
you’ve got walls up
but i know where the windows are
-can i come in?
maybe you do
love me
but only in the dark
when no one’s watching
-conditional.
i wish i was tired of you.
forgiveness, i can’t escape.
they say patience is a virtue,
but it’s a habit i can’t break.
-if i had a dollar for all the times i should have blocked you
the spot i had for you was soft.
made for you, a perfect fit.
delusion is wearing off.
disgust is starting to hit.
gave it all to you, at any cost.
-should have known it wasn’t permanent.
and just like that,
2 steps forward. 10 steps back.
why do i feel comfortable in this trap?
-i hope you run away and never come back
I don't wish you well, that would be too easy.
I wish you self-reflection.
-internal accountability.
i am the girl that learned
to do everything by myself.
to not depend on others to save me.
to fill up my time, or entertain me.
he said to go where i am appreciated, so i went to therapy.
-i’ll send you in the invoice.
in order to heal a wound,
you have to stop touching it.
-i have dermatillomania
thank you for reading! far from perfect but i took up writing as a way to express myself and it really helped me heal and process my emotions <3 thanks guys

Throwaway account
So today my (f24) partner (m34) tried to gaslight me and called me crazy, whole situation has left a sour taste in my mouth and I don't really know how to proceed or what to do next.
Our day started normally, although I was feeling bit irritable in the morning because I was not feeling well (my monthlies are about to start, relevant to the story). Be bickered a bit about completely pointless things but everything was fine.
After that we headed to get some snacks before he had to leave for work, on our way back home is when things got weird. He saw a box of pads on my lap and made this "ahaa of realisation", not really sure how to better describe it. I realised what he meant and and asked what was that. I understand it was meant as a joke cause I was grumpy earlier, but after I asked what he meant by that noise he refused to admit what it was. It started this loop of denial, accusing of me being mental and crazy. It took about and hour for him to admit it was a period joke, when I asked why didn't he just say that he started calling me a snowflake and and that I can't take a joke.
The reason why I pried for so long and was adamant to get him to admit was because it's not the first time something like this has happened. I get that it's not something serious, but it has left me feeling odd and weirdly resentful. I am not sure how to bring my feelings of the situation up.
Am I actually being crazy or is this something completely innocent? I really don't know anymore.

Title tells the story. Penrose finally broke in the same spot they all break. I was an early adopter and part of the first batch of Headsets shipped out. So they lasted about 3 years.
Opened a ticket w/ Audeze and they are unwilling to do anything as it out of warranty. Best they wanted to do was offer a discount on a pair of maxwells, while telling me there would be a "significant" delay in getting them even if I did buy new ones.
Leaving a real sour taste in my mouth. Why would I continue to spend any more money on this company when they ship defective products and dont back it at all? They dont offer replacement parts or any other real recourse other than to telling you to buy more product from them.
A $300 headset should not break after 3 years. I used these for work as well, so I'm going to be forced to buy something else at this point. I could look at a 3d printed part I suppose. Apologize if this is more of a rant than anything, just frustrated with the company right now. I really did love this headset but there is no way I'm buying another pair knowing they could be shot in 3 years with shitty QA.

Please note this is the original submission I sent Refinery29. In the current post,they have given me a second credit card with a 100$ balance, as well as generational trauma from World War II and cut context for other things. I am trying to get that fixed.
Per previous discussion in comments here: The espresso machine is a Bezzera, which ranges from 2-5K. We got ours on sale for 1.7K, it’s a work house and we use it everyday, still hurts that we spent that money on a coffee maker.
I do understand mortgage is debt but when you compare it to rent to a lesser value condo in Vancouver it feels like not debt at all, which is how I tend to think of it. Yes I owe my mortgage but also I get my house instead of renting-which may not have become clear.
Please see in full the diary, below (edit for formatting via mobile)
Occupation: Sr Business Analyst
Industry: Tech
Age: 30
Location: Vancouver Island, BC
Salary: 92,000$ (Spouse makes 60,000$ for a combined income of 152,000$ before tax)
Net Worth: ~ 1.2 Million ( house is valued at 989,000$ currently, we have a combined 150,000 in pension, and ~60,000 in various company stocks, and GICs)
Debt: 3,000$ in a zero interest credit card for a 10 month period. We balanced transferred and pay 400$/month. Debt was acquired in Q4 2023 when we had to buy Snow Tires, and do a full break replacement as well as Christmas. 480,000$ in a mortgage, we refinanced in September 2023 for five years fixed rate at accelerated biweekly, however I don’t consider our mortgage debt due to the equity we are gaining, and that our mortgage for a five bedroom, 3 bath single family home is less than rent for a two bedroom condo in Vancouver
Paycheck Amount (Every 2 Weeks): 2,555$ after taxes. (Just mine). Spouse makes 2,308$ after taxes. Our pay periods are alternating.
Pronouns: She/her
Monthly Expenses Mortgage: 1450$ biweekly (100$ extra to the principal).
Utilities: ~200$ (includes water [paid quarterly], hydro [paid bimonthly], gas, sewetrash [paid quarterly] phone [highly discounted due to work plans for spouse and myself] and car gas) Loan Payments: 400$/Credit Card
Car Insurance: 84$
Life Insurance: 167$ combined (67$ me, 100$ spouse)
Health & Dental Insurance: 60$ deducted from pay (coverage for myself and spouse from my employer. Spouse also has coverage for both of us deducted from pay)
Retirement Contribution: 400$ (Employee matches me), (Spouse has a defined pension through work and contributes ~200$ month)
Union fees: 70$ Spouse
Subscriptions: Crave 22$/month (Recent splurge for Binge watching the Rookie), Playstation Plus 100$ (annual bought on Black Friday Deal), Amazon Prime 80$ (Annual), BCAA 120$ (annual) Gym 30$/month (we both have one so 15$/pp)
Note: My spouse and I have completely commingled finances. I will be tracking both as it’s essentially I spent whatever they spent
Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it?
There was always the expectation. My father was very clear, we were very smart. There was no way we’d be wasting our potential. He wanted me to be a lawyer, but unlike other immigrant parents, I got to choose my major and went into social sciences and got my masters in history. I deferred my PhD too much so I got dropped by the program.
I chose my university by where I got a full first year scholarship and then after that took about 15k in student loans for my undergraduate. My parents paid my rent and I got a part time job for food.
For my masters, I had a student line of credit and 5 k student loans otherwise it was all my savings and scholarships. With the line of credit, I had a total of 30K in student loans and paid it off in about four years.
Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s)/guardian(s) educate you about finances?
Save. We talked about how you get a dollar allowance and half of it goes into long term saving with 25% in short term and 25% in spend.
Investing came after I was eighteen. Family would like us to invest in property, however I don’t really want to be a landlord, but also we wouldn’t get to really enjoy profit of owning a rental property due to other family circumstances.
What was your first job and why did you get it?
Ice cream parlour I was twelve and my parents made me get it for responsibility. I lasted three weeks because I hated it.
Did you worry about money growing up?
I grew up thinking we were not rich, because we didn’t get big plane vacations (I didn’t count flying from Toronto to Vancouver every summer as a vacation since we were just seeing family but staying in a house my parents owned) and I had only been to Disney twice.
But we had a big new build house in the rich end of town, my mom stayed home to raise all of us. We had to work for things (like going to see a movie opening night or a new CD) but we always had money and got what we wanted. In retrospect, my family was/is fairly well off.
Both my parents grew up poor, with parents working multiple jobs and different shifts to make ends meet, the strive/drive to not have that childhood, and for my father to be able to retire his parents really impacted mine and my siblings and cousins lives. My father showed me the apartment he grew up in Chinatown a few years back. It’s light years away from the house my grandparents owned when I was a kid and how I grew up.
Do you worry about money now?
Of course. Inflation is real and we are actively planning a wedding for the next year, as well as a baby in the next few years. We also need to buy a second car, so we’re saving for that.
At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net?
Fully financially responsible? Twenty five. I lived in a family property where I didn’t pay rent in one of the most expensive cities in Canada, so even though I paid all my bills (food and phone), I didn’t have to pay rent. I in fact made money, as I rented rooms out and used the income for house utilities, and paying my student loans down faster. When I moved in with my spouse, I just paid condo fees until we bought our house two years ago which gave me plenty of time to save.
Our financial safety net is family, and our savings. I know my family would bail us out. My spouse’s father would as well. Conversely, we are my spouse’s mother's safety net and we have to keep all our plans in mind that we will be subsidising her.
Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain. Yes, I received 50K from my parents once they sold my childhood home, as did both of my siblings. I have also received 10K from one set of grandparents which paid off my car and part of my student loans when I was 21. I will be receiving another inheritance when probate is done for around ~100K. My spouse also has received inheritance which allowed them to buy their first condo in their early twenties when the market was much better. That condo, 50k, and the subsequent upgrading helped us afford our house.
Day 1
10 AM: I drive to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. Not how I want to start my Sunday morning but y’know. Normally I’d walk since it’s about 20 minutes but I have a UTI. I’m “lucky” that despite not having a dr because of the health care shortage, my work pays for the Maple app so I could get a dr to write the prescription and order the lab work at 1 am. I’ll do the lab work later this week when I can get an appointment but will take the relief now. Insurance makes the antibiotics free, but I also buy hydrogen peroxide because we’re out and we have a dog that thinks everything is meant to be in her mouth. We’ll buy a bigger one at Costco later. I also bought some oral wound mouthwash because we were out. I come home and my spouse made us breakfast.
Total: 15.90$ paid with debit.
1-2:30 PM: We do our taxes. I have a mini meltdown when I realize the part time bakery job I had for a few months didn’t take off income tax last year, so I owe 800$. Luckily, my partner is getting a refund so we net out positive 400$. The bakery took off income tax in 2022, so unsure why they didn’t in 2023. I made us lunch.
3-6:30 PM: We walk the dog, and watch the Rookie. Some time during that time period, a venue emails us back and is surprisingly affordable at 3k. I also get told that the tattoo artist I want to book with, has not chosen me.
6:30-7:30 PM: I explain what lazy girl dinner is to my spouse and make a lazy girl dinner. After not really grocery shopping since Feb for things besides fresh veg, we need to do a big pantry shop and neither of us want that. We debate about buying a food saver and if we should wait for a sale. My spouse is more frugal than me and has determined we should.
8-9:30 PM: We start season 3 of The Rookie, and then after two episodes we go to bed
Day One Total: 15.90$
Day Two
5:45-8 AM: Wake up and start work. I get up to date with what’s happened on the weekend and check that my automated reports. Sometime before 6:30, I get the kettle on for my spouse’s pour over before I go back to my meetings. There’s a twenty minute gap where I get changed and do my skin care and brush my teeth. I’d love to be a skin care person but honestly I’ve spent too much money on product that I don’t use and that just goes bad. Washing my face and using sun screen is a win.
I also make sure that Spouse’s lunch is in his bag and I get our travel mugs ready. Before, we used to go to Starbucks every day. Starbucks used to do free refills on coffee and tea if you were a rewards member if you bought a coffee or tea so it would cost us $5/day (2.5/pp), and we could get refills all day. While that’s 20$/week, 80$/a month and yes, we could have saved it but back then, that 80$ wasn’t turning the dial anywhere significantly for us—a privileged view.
But now, after COVID where I stopped drinking tea after one day working from home having like 10 cups and thinking I was dying, and Spouse has bought a good grinder and we recently splurged on a stupidly expensive espresso machine we call his Engagement Espresso since it costs the same price as my stupidly expensive ring, we bring our coffees.
8-8:30 AM: We drive to work. Prior to buying our house, we were both work from home and lived in a city with amazing transit. We only needed the one car. Since buying the house and moving to a city where public transit is a joke (the one bus goes past our house every 1.5h), Spouse changed jobs and is in office every day and I have to go in 3 days a week. We need a second car or the e-bike rebate to come through. We debate this in the car, since I’m done at 1 pm, and Spouse works normal hours, I either have to take the bus home, or go to the gym for three hours. Today though, I drop Spouse off. I will pick him up later as he has a half day because of the dentist
8:30-12:30 AM/PM: Work. I find a tech manager and ask them to get me more triple a batteries. Work won’t provide or let me expense batteries for my mouse, despite them replacing my usb mouse with a battery one. The poor admin had to tell me the decision is that we’ll all supply our own batteries. Luckily the tech managers have to have batteries on hand and give them out freely.
I ask my boss how the work from home tax forms work, and he is going to find out.
I run more meetings and work on a request for a dashboard and a business case for a new feature that I have to convince leadership to spend money on.
12:30-1 PM: I drive back to my Spouse because he has a dentist appointment.
While I wait for a spouse, I am incredibly hungry. I’m usually not hungry/don’t eat a proper meal until around 1 in the afternoon and my two granola bars I already ate at the office. I go to the bakery by Spouse’s work and buy a cheese bun for me (3.65$), and an apple pie scone (2.55$) for Spouse as a snack. Spouse points out he won’t be able to eat until after his appointment.
Total: 6.20$ debit
1-1:30 PM: I drop Spouse off, and the car stops working. The engine won’t catch. I try multiple times and then run into the dentist to dramatically announce to Spouse and the receptionists that the car won’t start. Spouse asks me what he wants me to do about this, since he’s about to go into an appointment. A very kind receptionist tells me it might be the alternator. I don’t know what that is.
I go back to the car to Facetime my father. He also asks what I think he can do to help since he lives 3000 km away. Weirdly, and sexistly, I thought a man who grew up at race tracks, in a racing family, or the man who has collected and worked on sports cars for forty years might be able to help.
Spouse texts me to remind me we have BCAA while my father also tells me that. I finally get the engine to catch and drive the very long way home, going the speed limit and getting stuck in traffic, construction and a bus. It takes me 20 minutes to get home instead of 10.
1:30-2:30 PM: I walk the dog, mail a (late) birthday card and then start researching what an alternator is. The car is over a decade old and until the house, the most expensive thing I ever bought at 12K back in 2015. We have the funds for the cost, but it’s my first car and the fact it might be the end of its life is scary.
Alternators can cost between 400-800$ repair with labour, so that’s fun.
My dad calls me back and apologises for asking me what he could do away. He advises me that there’s probably a bald spot on the alternator and advises me to go to the mechanic to check or replace it, if the car doesn’t start again.
I call the mechanic to book an appointment, and to also get the snow tires off and to buy new rims for the snow tires. The mechanic lets me know that the alternator part is 500$, and an hour of labour so with taxes we’re looking at around 700$
That future appointment next week (we’re going down a highway this weekend which requires snow tires) will cost ~1.5K, assuming we replace the alternator.
I make lunch and sigh.
2:30 PM: The car starts thankfully. I drive incredibly slow. I pick up Spouse by idling the car. We get an email back from a venue saying they cost 75,000$ minimum. The timing is hysterical.
Due to the nature of the dentist, Spouse owes 618$, as they haven’t flipped it under my insurance. They split it in half, as he has a follow up in two weeks. After the next appointment they will flip the whole amount under me and we’ll get reimbursed for the whole amount.
Total 309$/credit card.
3-10 PM: We walk the dog, make dinner (Spouse makes white sauce pasta, with chicken and peas) and watch The Rookie. There are thirteen episodes in season three, and we will be busy every night this week besides Friday and Sunday, and I would like to finish season three so we can start season 4 next Monday. I don’t want to pay for more than one month of Crave. We have five episodes left
Day Two Total: 315.2$
Day Three
1 AM: 100$ is automatically transferred from our account to the credit card debit. We have an auto transfer of 100$/every Tuesday to a Visa where we balance transferred both our cards. We have an offer for 0 interest for 10 months, so we did that for some of the bigger expenses (snow tires, break replacement and general Christmas) and are on track to pay it back within the next 6 months. That visa is our emergency card that we just have in the back end and utilise for promos like this. It allows us to keep our two cards balances manageable and lets us pay in an easier way than taking big chunks out of our various savings.
Total: 100$/direct deposit
5:45-9 AM: Work. Meetings, reports, trying to convince a colleague that the process does include them and refusal to follow it means that their requests won’t be done. Spouse has another half day so I can go into the office at my leisure—if the car starts
9-9:20 AM: The car starts, I get into the office and refresh a data flow before a meeting with a new stake holder. It takes longer to drive into work today because the tourists are starting to come and their van builds or campers are not exactly highway speed and with a two lane highway, if you don’t merge over fast enough you’re stuck.
10:05-10:20 AM: Meeting done, car starts again and I drive home for more meetings. The least amount of time in the office is preferable for me.
10:30-11AM : Meeting with my manager where we discuss future salary and promotion. I am due for a promotion in the start of Q2, which would push me to six figures. I’ll believe it when I see it but, I’m really excited at that possibility for my family.
11:15 AM: Spouse leaves for work, we discuss what groceries are needed, as well if he’ll go to Home Depot tonight to buy more clover seeds for the yard, as we need to reseed before it starts raining. I eat a muffin and my dog and cat decide to try and eat each other.
11:15-1:30 PM: Work runs late. There’s some issues with the data and we can’t figure it out. We call it a night, and I’ll record the video presentations tomorrow, once we fix the data.
1:30-4 PM: Nap time! It’s bad for me, but honestly I don’t sleep well during the night so naps are what keep me alive.
4-6 PM I prep dinner (smash burgers and fries), and get chores done and walk the dog.
6-7:30 PM: Spouse comes home, we eat dinner. Groceries come to 96.83 for two 7 pound pork loins, two packs of bacon, chicken nuggets, coffee, pop, 8 pack of peppers, milk, tomato, pickles, rice, avocado, mushrooms, sour cream and lettuce.
Not too bad, we average about 300$/month in groceries because we can buy bulk and have a second freezer.
For the month of March we are currently at 123.61$ for groceries and there is twelve days left. We went on a small weekend away, so we ate out a fair bit but even then our current food budget is 272.27$ today.
Total: 96.83/ debit
7:30-10 PM: Spouse makes a coffee and plays video games with his friends. They do it every week. I have a shower, fold and put away laundry and read in bed.
Day Three Total: 196.83
Day Four
1AM: Our biweekly accelerated mortgage payment comes out of 1450$. I’m tracking it here to be honest on our spending but I tend not to think of it as money spent because in my head it’s already money gone. To pay for a house equivalent in Vancouver, the mortgage would be over 6k. Renting a two bedroom condo would be 3K. It feels like the mortgage is just cheaper rent, even though each time I own more of my house.
5:45-9 AM: Work. I find out the limits of how many people I can invite to a Teams Meeting as well as that the Thursday before Good Friday is a catholic holiday when a few people ask me to reschedule a training forum for over a thousand people. Sometime in there I make us coffee, make sure Spouse has lunch packed (leftovers). Spouse has walked the dog and has the recycling and compost out for pick up. I drop Spouse off at work.
10-11:45 AM: I leave the office for home and more meetings. I walk the dog and go record training videos. I get an email that Amazon is doing their big spring sale. I send a link to a robot mop and vaccum that’s on a big discount to Spouse. We want one, but I’m not in charge of the research on it. I send links to play grounds to my friends with toddlers
11:45-12:30 PM : I shove lunch in my mouth, last night’s left overs. I’m running late, and decide to get myself later by collecting all the random dishes and mugs that just show up places and start the dishwasher. I get to the lab ten minutes early but need to buy gas on the way home.
I tell my team I’ll be MIA for a bit and leave the work phone in the car.
I buy 15.6L of gas for 30$ at 1.879/l it sucks. I don’t fill up because we’re going to my in laws this weekend and there’s a Costco Gas Bar there.
Total: 30$/credit card
12:30-1:30 PM: Work goes long again.
1:30-2:30 PM: Nap!
2:30-4:30 PM: Walk the dog and drive to the gym. I usually go three times a week but with last week’s weekend away and this week’s weird half days from Spouse, today’s the only day. I make it up by doing both upper and lower body and a 30 minute circuit.
4:30-7:30 PM: I pick up Spouse and we go to Costco. We pick up nachos, ham, cheese buns and some other items. We debate buying our friend’s kid a toddler set of clothes and decide no. We end up buying work pants for Spouse, and a garden hose. It comes out to 116.90
I order our Costco dinner of hot dogs and fries for a grand total date night of 6.41$
Total: 123.31/ credit card
8-9 PM: Dance class! We bought a series of six lessons of introduction to ballroom back in December for a new date night idea. We paid 60$/pp and this is the fifth lesson tonight.
9 pm: We’re home, we let the dog out. Spouse spends an undetermined amount of time watching ballroom videos while I sleep.
Day Four Total: 1603.31$ or 153.31 excluding the mortgage payment.
Day Five
5:45-9 AM: Work. All the meetings. Thursday is the meeting day. I debate with a friend what’s the earliest call we’ve had. 4:30 am still wins. I pack lunch for Spouse and his coffee and he leaves. I end up cleaning up cat puke as the cat decides to drink milk from Spouse’s cereal and vomit it up on camera in a meeting.
9-9:30 AM: I make myself a matcha and walk the dog.
9:30-1 PM: Work and I treat myself to a lunch of a cheese bun and ham sandwhich. We used to eat it every Sunday while growing up but the cost of ham has been outrageous. The deal at Costco yesterday was 1.5$/100 g which is really good.
1-1:30 PM: I seal the wooden deer Christmas decoration we bought last year. It sits outside our front door and needs to be weather proofed, and I’ve been putting it off for five months. But the weather is good and we have newspapers. We have left over wood sealer after the sign we bought a year ago so I use that. The dog and the cat both don’t like my wooden deer.
1:30-4 PM: Nap!
4-5 PM: I basically just watch youtube and drink a root beer. I have no energy.
5-6:30 PM: Spouse comes home, we walk the dog and I make dinner (Kraft Dinner and nuggets–I swear we eat veggies but today is not that day). We discuss the possibility of our dog at our wedding as a flower girl, and if she’ll be in a tutu or a cheongsam like me. I am now researching if they make dog cheongsams and if she can match us. The cat, despite all my heart wanting it, won’t physically be there because he will have an anxiety attack and probably die.
6:30-10:30 PM: Board game night! We go to a friend’s to repeat the same scenario we’ve lost two weeks in a row.
10:30-11 PM: I pack Spouse’s breakfast (oatmeal and frozen berries), lunch (spicy tuna and mayo) since he’s trying to go to the gym before work, and feed the animals before we go to bed.
Day Five Total: 0$
Day Six Friday
5:45-9 AM: Work. I have a deep focus block which means I can get the script for the training I have to run. Public speaking is not my strong suit and it’s a group of a thousand people so I’m not looking forward to it. Spouse almost makes it to the gym. I get an email that my new work phone has shipped. I’m surprised because they wouldn’t order us any for the past four years, but I guess my new iPhone will show up next week. I might give my old work phone to my mother in law, since she smashed the camera on the phone we bought her last year.
9-9:30 AM: I walk the dog, make a matcha and make a todo list for what we have to get done before we leave to my in laws tomorrow. I text my mother in law happy birthday, and hope that she got the card in time. She did.
9:30-11:30 AM: My last meeting for the week ends and I’m debating calling it a day so I can nap. Instead I make lunch (cheese bun and ham), text my other mother in law our plan for Saturday, and unload and reload the dishwasher and go back to work for at least another hour.
12:30-1 PM: I shower and do skin care
1-3 PM: Nap! Somewhere in this time FedEx comes and since I’m sleeping, we have to pick up on Monday. I’m not too sure what it is, I assume it’s our custom address stamp from Etsy because that’s the only thing I’ve bought recently but not too sure. I just realized in retrospect, this might be my new work phone.
3-5 PM: I prep dinner (nachos), unload the dishwasher, pack my overnight bag and confirm all our venue tours by email. I start a load of laundry and do a quick clean. I feel like this is not the best image of our diet. I swear we generally eat healthy but we both have been feeling really blah over the past two weeks so have been going for quick and easy over healthy and balanced. I do have three whole peppers and two whole avocados in the nachos though.
5-7 PM: Spouse comes home, we walk the dog, have dinner, and plan out next week. We have a big Wednesday next week (mechanic, I have a nails appointment, dance class), and we are having our friends over for Easter so we need to prep for that. We pack the car so tomorrow is a very easy start.
Spouse also gets paid today. We’re lucky that we’re on alternating pay periods, we used to be on the same and it always felt stressful. Spouse also lets me know his union has secured a 3% cost of living raise to start in Q3. I really like his union for negotiating a base 2% year of cost of living raise, with potential addition raises depending on inflation. It’s a bit away but that’s still good news.
7:30-10:30 PM: We finish The Rookie Season 3 and head to bed. Crave reminds me that I have 10 days until I’m charged again. Sadly, I think we’ll have to pay for 2 months.
Day Six Total: 0
Day Seven Saturday
8:30-9:30 AM: Wake up. No one (except the dog) slept well so we’re not in a morning mood. Spouse makes coffee and walks the dog, while I finish packing the car and give the cat a lot of attention. Our first venue tour is at 11 and the one that is the most expensive (8-10K), but also the one we probably want the most. We live about an hour away but the highway is two lanes and one accident can back everything up for hours.
10:40-1 PM: We visit our dream venue. We stay way longer than expected. Basically if the quote is under 10K, we’ll get it. Just waiting now.
1-2 PM: We get to our in-laws and have a lunch of egg salad sandwhichs. We need to buy gas. My in laws drive us to a pottery painting store.
2-4 PM: We paint pottery. My mother in law only wanted to do this for her birthday. They’ll pick it up in a week after it’s been thrown. I paint a vase (28$), Spouse paints an Easter egg (18$), father in law paints a mug (30$), and mother in law paints a plate (50$)
Total:143.36/credit card
4-5 Pm: We see another venue. It’s an instant no. My in laws decide they want to try Korean fried chicken. We call ahead for take out to get two fries and 16 pieces of half and half. It comes to 50.83$ that my in laws pay for.
5-10 PM: We come back and see that our dog has pooped in their house and also has gotten into their pantry and eaten an entire bag of dog food. It is not a fun night.
We spend the night drinking wine and discussing the wedding and watching TV.
10PM: We go to bed. That’s the end of this week, but tomorrow we will be buying gas and probably lunch for my other mother in law as we will be touring another venue.
Day Seven Total: 143.36$

Rant about an entitled guy at OFII appointment
I had an appointment yesterday with OFII to sign a CIR contact. For those who don’t know, when you get your carte de séjour, you have to sign this contract between the state and you, basically promising to respect the values of France. And then you need to take a 4 day civic course.
So, the whole point is, you already got french papers, afterwards you do this and that will help you to renew your next card and get a multi year card.
The thing that happened before my appointment really annoyed me. This is a throwaway account for me but I waited a long long time to change my status and get a card to work again. I waited more than 2 years for a reply (not for the visa as I already had a visa, I’ve been living in France, lost a job and papers, do everything again directly at prefecture, waited 2 years for a yes / no, it’s a long story). I wasn’t allowed to leave the country or work during this time. It was brutal. But I got it and I am free. I can’t explain the level of happiness and gratitude that I feel cause I got the best card that exists. So I go to the appointment as happy as one can be, as this can help me to renew my next card for multiple years, not just 1. I live here and I respect France. I know why I went to the appointment and what it means.
So I get their way before the appointment to wait and line starts to pile up. A guy that’s 25-30 years old cuts the line in front of me. Literally skipped like 20 people and stands in front of me. I tried to ignore because, a part of getting this contract, you have to do a French test and for some reason I got scared even though I speak French.
He had a weird attitude, and he started asking people why are we here? What’s the point of this? It confused me but ok.
And then he asked me if I have papers? Yes. He was disgusted. He told me and a guy standing in front of me that he already got a letter from OFII in December but he threw it in the garbage. F them.
This day + 4 day civic courses are obligatory and you can not skip it. It’s free. You come, they test your french, you talk about your future in France and they can redirect you to some stuff (for example if you don’t have a good level of french, they send you to a mandatory but FREE school to learn French). You learn the law in those civic courses, you learn your rights. You even get free food when you do take those 4 day course. Basically everything is for YOU. In return, you promise to respect the country and it’s values. No one asks you, it just stated on the contract that you signed, but that’s the point.
And then he started to make fun of France. It’s a stupid course. He doesn’t need to test his french. He earns money, what’s the point to come here? He doesn’t give a sh*t about French values. He doesn’t want to learn about history. Just dragging his feet and asking ‘but why do I have to be here’? Or saying ‘french values’ and laughing and shaking his head. I was speechless. They’ve been ‘bothering him with letters to come to the appointment’. F them and France, man. He started to talk to me and I told him that he is missing the point, this is for him, not for anyone else. If he wants to stay, he has to integrate. He went on a rant and I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t know what to say anymore.
I was surprised by the bal*s that he had. And honestly, I was mad. Another guy next to me was very uncomfortable too. You don’t have to love France as much as I do but to stand in FRONT of the door of OFII, where you are going to sign an ‘integration contract’ and say this?
He shut up when they opened the door.
But this left a sour taste in my mouth, cause I am still thinking about it. I almost told someone inside but I didn’t want to be a Karen. I kinda hoped they have cameras but I didn’t see them. When we went into the classroom, French test started right away so I didn’t want to get up in front of everyone and say what happened. If they heard ONE sentence he said, they would’ve not given him the contract. It was horrible, I didn’t even write everything he said here.
Anyway, he probably signed a contract that he respects France and he is getting his multi stay card next year. I feel guilty for not saying anything but don’t think it would make any difference anyway and I didn’t want to risk my papers. Sorry for writing in English, I passed my french test (yay) and I don’t need any french classes but it’s easier to go on a rant in english for some reason.

I got a bag of these from the food drive, and they are so yummy. Crunchy, crisp, a firm skin, with a very mild flavor. They are sweet, and a itty bitty bit sour, with most of the flavor, coming at the end of the bite. I find that many apples sort of dry out my mouth, leaving behind a "Velcro" sensation similar to drinking cheap bottled water, but not this one, and I believe the mildness of the flavor is why.
It made a great pair for my cheap charcuterie plates - Gouda and salami, mostly, lending sweetness without overpowering anything. It does not pair well with Nutella, as the butter drowns it out. If anyone can help point me in the direction of this apple, or others like it, I would be most grateful.
(Apologies for the blurry 3rd pic. I cut it open and started eatibit before I realized the top-down photo was blurry.)

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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 239: Standing Start
A wine bottle rolled against the side of my boot.
Amidst a gallery of stunned faces and open mouths, it was easily the second most lively thing here.
The first was a clockwork doll clutching at her stomach in pain.
“Ahahahha~ ahahaha~ ahah … uck … ack … ughh … ahahaha~”
I pursed my lips.
Still, I said nothing.
For one thing, this was precisely what happened when one ate the mouldy cinnamon rolls combined with any grass growing by the side of the road. If Apple refused to eat something, then so should she.
But for another–
“What … What is this … ?”
It was because the first response was reserved for the baroness.
Her words came out in a quivering tone, matching the disbelief upon her face.
Frankly, she had to do better than that.
Only the wine from the bottle I nudged away dribbled into the soil. And also the line of drool from a comatose farmer. But I didn’t want to think about that.
Still, it was an excellent benchmark. Until her tears could properly overpower the sour aroma from the Château de Riaré Hensoise, I would deem her bawling to be incomplete.
She had a long way to go.
“How … How are you still …” she began, slowly rising from her seat. “This … This is impossible–”
I offered a tidy smile alongside a flick of my hair, relishing in the moonlight adorning my figure.
“I agree. It shouldn’t be possible. But I assure you, my skin is 100% natural.”
“E-Excuse me … ?”
“No magical enchantments. No unicorn elixirs. No witchly glamors. Just a healthy sleep schedule of however many hours I desire and a diet of fresh strawberry shortcakes.”
The baroness mouthed silently at my secrets being revealed.
A strange way of offering her gratitude. Other princesses hounded my door for this knowledge. Given her pale, blotchy skin and lips as dry as a pond in a desert, she should be pleading for more.
Instead, she pointed at the fallen drunk beside us.
“This … This shouldn’t be possible … no, wait … the clockwork doll … did she–”
She suddenly snapped towards Coppelia, her eyes widening.
“Uuh … ahaha … ugh, it hurts ... ahaha … it hurts so much … ahaha … my tummy … aha … oh no … I’m … I’m seeing daisies … aha … I … ugh … I think I need help …”
Coppelia hugged her stomach, writhing like a freshly hatched caterpillar. Her eyes darkened as hiccups of laughter assailed her defeated form.
The baroness pursed her lips.
Then, she turned to Renise instead.
“Did you–”
“A-Amazing! … I … I have no idea what you did … but it wasn’t just wonderful … it was beautiful! The colours! The warmth! It was like a rainbow come to life!”
With a smile worthy of any attendant, the maid brought her hands together in polite applause. Naturally, to be praised for my brushwork was nothing new to me. Nor was the sight of stars shining in her eyes with greater brightness than any in the night sky.
Why, that even came whenever I left my bedroom.
“You … how did … how did you defeat him … ?”
The strands of the baroness’s golden hair began to frizzle as she turned towards me. All I saw were her tonsils. Bright red and healthy. She should be pleased.
“This was … this was no common man … do you know who he is … ?”
Without offering a chance to ignore her, she stamped a foot, pointing at the fallen drunk with maddened jabs. The man offered no defence, now as spent and drained as the bottle beside him.
I raised a brow.
“Indeed, I do. He’s a farmer who made poor life choices. And between leaving his farm and offering his pitchfork to an overly ambitious baroness, the greater was you. My congratulations on being the superior mistake. I acknowledge your triumph.”
Bwam.
The baroness promptly slapped her palms down on the table.
“This man … is Willem of Hagel,” she said, her teeth gritted together. “A man desperate and cursed.”
“Yes, well, to be a peasant is a dire thing. But it could be worse. At least he isn’t nobility.”
A mouth further widened before me.
Indeed, this was a terrible time to realise her affliction. But I was no famed angel of healing for nothing. There was a cure for ambition. And it involved copious amounts of tears.
I was still waiting.
“There is no world in which you should have been able to defeat him … not if half the tales about him prove true … he is a famed opponent … all the while you are … you are …”
Suddenly, her eyes left my face for the very first time.
No longer feeling that my cheeks were in danger of being poked, she swept her eyes upon my person, as though hoping to find some blemish to signify I was as false as a field of corn.
She stopped at the sword by my side.
And also–
“A copper ring,” she said softly.
Suddenly, my 29th house of cards I was subtly constructing collapsed.
… T-The ring!
The blot on my finger! The insidious badge of shame! The symbol of the Adventurer’s Guild!
Why, I’d taken it for granted that my masterful disguise was impervious! But this was no ordinary noblewoman I was seated across!
This … This was one I’d previously sat across before!
I’d made a terrible mistake!
I was mesmerising! A beautiful princess as charming as I was modest!
There was utterly no scenario in which I’d be forgotten!
I … I should have removed the copper ring!
“O-Oho … ohoho … w-what copper ring?” I said, my hands vanishing below the table at a speed con artists could only nod at. “Ah, do you refer to the ruby inlaid ring I often carry on my hand? The one which changes colour depending on the longitude and latitude? In that case, you may very well have briefly spied something which resembled a copper hue. But it is in fact a thing of unparalleled beauty and craftsmanship. Not a disgraceful copper ring.”
The baroness slowly looked up at me, her eyes blinking.
“No. I wasn’t mistaken. I … I recognise that ring. It is a copper ring, the same size and shape as those worn by … adventurers.”
My mouth widened in horror.
At once, I immediately sought a plant pot or a heavy book. Something to immediately erase the past few seconds of her memory.
Why … if she knew my secret, then the shame would haunt me all the way until I’d found something weighing at least equivalent to a standard hardback!
“I see,” she mumbled, as much to herself as me. “I understand now …”
The baroness removed her palms from the table.
She stood up straight, a hard expression upon her face. One which calculated with each passing moment the optimal way to exploit this devastating information.
Then, she took in a deep breath–just as I began assembling the playing cards into a thick pile.
“… it must be a legendary artifact.”
As I began eyeing her temple … I blinked in non-understanding.
“Excuse me?”
She nodded, her frown harsh enough to permanently crease her skin.
“To wear such a plain, ugly and shameful ring … one which utterly demeans your history, your worth and your pride, destroying any semblance of dignity you possess–”
My hand went to my stomach, struck by as much pain as Coppelia had experienced in a single moment.
“–indeed, to wear a ring so easily mistaken as one belonging to adventurers, the vermin of the world … it must be a truly terrifying artifact.”
I blinked.
And then–
“Ohhho … ohoohho! You … You see the truth of it!”
The baroness squeezed her fists by her side.
“I knew it.”
I nodded, my bangs bouncing against my forehead.
“I-Indeed … ! This ring I carry on me … it is a masterful item of supreme quality, passed down along generations of my family! Why, its appearance matching those of rings worn by adventurers is no coincidence! Theirs are based on this very design! Although they have since tarnished it, it was forged back in the first days of the kingdom when copper was greater than gold! Poured within it is knowledge now lost to time! A power beyond compare, called upon from the depths of the Royal Vault!”
The baroness sucked in a hateful breath.
“Then that explains it,” she said with bitterness ringing throughout her voice. “You were able to defeat such a powerful adversary through the use of your family’s ancient heirlooms.”
“Indeed, this powerful ring with a rare ability I cannot disclose defeated a terrifying farmer! Therefore, there’s no need for you to relay any suggestion that I’m anything but a princess, as far removed from the Adventurer’s Guild as hygiene is to their members!”
The baroness gave no response.
A respite which lasted far too short.
“... I see, then it means the plan continues. Different, yes. But I’ll not be deterred.”
She smiled, the familiar sight of aristocratic opportunism mixed with an utter denial of facts shining within her grey eyes.
I could only react with horror.
“Plan?” I replied, convinced she was well and truly several sandwiches short of a picnic. “Do you mean the plan currently lying in a fallen heap beside us? Did you not just say I defeated your farmer? Your only plan now is to decide which part of the ground you wish to offer your forehead to.”
The baroness shook her head with renewed confidence.
“I think not. To defeat Willem of Hagel, you must have expended every effort you had available. Not a crumb of power could be spared, for to underestimate him would have resulted in your certain loss. Meaning …”
Without hesitation, she gave a multipurpose wave of her hand.
“... You’ve nothing left but a sword you cannot wield, and two retainers against all of mine. One of whom is incapacitated. The other a maid.”
She continued to keep her hand raised. Her simple call to arms.
It took several moments before she cared to even look around her.
A sad thing.
If she had, she would have realised the curiosity of her hoodlums was less than their prudence.
She would have noticed the eyes without loyalty, seeing only the fallen figure of a drunk they’d been led to believe was more than a farmer now watering the ground with his drool.
And she would have noticed the state of her dress, as dishevelled as her ambitions as those she relied upon slinked away in search of newer gutters to inhabit, following instincts she could learn as the last of their feet shuffled into the darkness.
The baroness paled.
It was far too early for that. She had no idea Apple was currently resting in her tavern, and wouldn’t be helping her haul all of the goods which needed delivering to a place less damp than here.
But I could sooth her forthcoming backache with a smile, at least for the assistance already provided.
“You have my gratitude,” I said, brushing a speck of … countryside from my lap. “For so long as the nobility continues to concoct slapdash schemes with no hope of success, the kingdom can continue to assign blame on you when all else goes wrong. When the mobs come calling and heads start rolling, it ensures a steady queue of necks can be offered before ours are reached. That is why the nobility continues to exist, you see, despite the ceaseless treason. So allow me to offer a word of advice when next you wish to survive in a position of responsibility. When fleeing, the best defence isn’t to run faster–it’s to trip the person beside you. And this means better hiring practices.”
I glanced pointedly around me.
All this empty space and not even a single eyepatched second-in-command to use as a distraction? An amateur mistake. One the baroness now realised as her mouth opened wordlessly, the realisation of her solitude only now dawning upon her.
Yet all it invited was a newly wrought defiance.
“I do not mean to flee,” she said, her fists tightly clenched. “I am Arisa Sandholt. And even should I be captured here, you would not be afforded a night’s rest. I am not alone. Whether tonight or tomorrow, this kingdom will fall. I am not alone in planning its demise.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, please. Planning my kingdom’s demise is what everyone does.”
“What?”
“If it’s not being actively planned, it’s because someone’s in the middle of planning how to formulate a plan. And then once they’ve finished planning, they wonder why their plan didn’t work as planned. This is not a cause for concern. It’s a sign the world is still spinning the correct direction.”
The baroness feigned a dignified silence.
It was far too late, of course. By default, nobility had no dignity.
Still, I accepted the effort, and filled the silence with a tidy clap of my hands.
“Now, since you’ve no intention of fleeing, you can be useful instead. I’ll require a full inventory of your stock. I intend to requisition every single item you have in your possession. Every grain. Every crown. And every odd piece of tableware, carpet, candleholder and painting you might have.”
I pointed at the barn. A tragic thing to requisition. But if I was fortunate, it’d grow lacquered tiles and bay windows in the short steps between here and there.
Suddenly, the baroness’s eyes widened. The needless defiance dropped alarmingly from her face.
“Wait … what do you mean by that?”
I paused for a moment, puzzled by her reaction.
This was hardly the complicated part.
“I mean exactly what I mean. This should come as no surprise. I will be emptying every corner of the property you’ve misappropriated, including whatever manner of tunnels you’ve carved for your use. Rest assured, I’ll be employing the talents of my retainers extensively. With or without your cooperation, every single inch of your abode will be inspected by myself for the Royal Treasury’s benefit.”
She blinked between Renise and Coppelia. Although one was dressed as a maid and the other now appeared to be napping on the ground, their skills when it came to matters of unearthing valuables in my kingdom’s underbelly was not one I doubted.
Nor, from the way the baroness gulped, did she.
“I can do it,” she said suddenly.
I looked at her in confusion, uncertain what ploy this was.
“... Excuse me? Do what?”
“The items of value. I can bring them out. There’s no need to personally see to such a thing yourself.”
“While I’m in full agreement, I can hardly trust your reliability in this manner. And besides, I’ll hardly be playing the mule. I shall be supervising while closely assessing every item.”
Once more, the tonsils came out.
An appalling disregard of decorum. There was only one time that nobility was permitted to look so horrified in my presence. And that’s if they were copying my own after I discovered a list of marriage suitors posing as a napkin beneath the dessert spoon again.
“E-Even so … as the one who wronged you, I insist on not troubling a princess any further. If you give me a few moments, I can acquire the most important valuables for you in a fraction of the time you’d spend on finding them.”
“A few moments to hide them, you mean. No, I’m afraid that anything you wish to stuff beneath a floorboard will need to be appropriately examined first.”
I leaned away in mild alarm as a bead of sweat ran down the baroness’s face.
A moment later–
She finally did what only someone in her position could.
Adhering to the instincts of all nobility, she swept up her dress and suddenly dashed away.
Except it wasn’t towards the dark forest, to be lost amidst the shadows and the jaws of whatever awaited her there. It was back towards the barn.
I watched as she stumbled several times before even reaching the steps.
“... A desperate sight, no?” I said, with a sad shake of my head. “To throw away all semblance of the image she’d hoped to craft. Now she flees like a frightened towngirl. She should know that escape is now impossible.”
Beside me, Renise let out a hum.
Far from chasing after the baroness, she collected the pack of cards I’d assembled for memory wiping purposes. She began to build a house of cards.
I looked at her in puzzlement. She gave a strangely pained smile in reply.
“I believe we can offer her a few moments.”
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Hey everyone, I’m mainly doing this for myself as a journal but whoever wants to join along is more than welcome to me. I’m hoping this becomes a success story and for my quality of life to stop being haunted. YOU DONT HAVE TO READ ALL OF THIS
I’m a 22 year old female in the US. I currently don’t have a job as I have been let go yesterday due to my unsuspecting symptoms and lack of communication. I can’t keep up with the regular 9-5 jobs and it’s turning into a pattern of me burning myself out. I don’t have anybody to rely on other than myself and I can’t get afford health insurance at the moment.
Current Symptoms: - Extreme Fatigue/Exhaustion - SouCurdling/Spicy tummy feeling? - Nausea/Contractions (especially after physical activity and eating or drinking) - Bloating/Gas/Gurgling -Rancid Smelling Poop - Acne - Regurgitating oil/grease - Recurrent yeast - Brain Fog/Confusion - Urinary Incontinence - Body Rashes/Allergic Reactions -Sugar Cravings - Migraines - Cotten Mouth/Dehydration - Malabsorption/Continual Hunger - Thinning Hair - Weight Loss - Weak Pelvic Floor? Tight/Tense Muscles? - Food in Stools (Not often) - Drunkness Feeling After Carbs? - Acid Reflux - Depression/Anxiety - Weak Immune System
Food Sensitivities that have developed: - Dairy -Gluten - Soy - Gastric foods/spices/drinks (including onion and garlic) - Processed Foods - Broths - Sugar (Fruit and All) - Starch - Acid (Fruits/Vinegars) - Medications (NSAIDS/Anti-Acids)
Tried treatments that I can remember: -Xifaxin (2 weeks) - Ortho Molecular Ortho Spore (2-3 months worked wonders but relapsed) -Dietitian: Low Fodmap Diet (3 months didn’t help) - Reuteri - B12, VitD, other vitamin supplements - Physical Therapy - Fluconazole - Boric Acid -Laxatives (basically all) - Collagen Peptides - Plant Based Protein Powder - Yoga
Most of Background: So I have been dealing with different illnesses that is a repeated pattern since I was possibly 12 years old. I would frequently have nasty migraines, stomach bugs, food poisoning, and respiratory infections out of the blue. It gotten to the point of my family always saying “there’s always something wrong with you”, “you’re just exaggerating”.
When it came to 2017, I started gaining rashes as allergic reactions. It couldn’t be classified as hives even though it looked the part because it would sting like a bitch instead of itching. It would run through out my body whenever I ate every so often and that was only on of the reactions as I had a second of my skin swelling as if it was a mosquito bite but worse and when the swelling went down, it would leave scars behind.
I went to an allergist and nothing popped up on the regular tests, but something popped up on the chemical patch test. The name of the chemical was called Balsam of Peru, it’s mainly a preservative that is in your common foods/beverages, cleaning products, and aerosols. I continued to have random allergic reactions here and there as it wasn’t feasible to follow a diet that strict in a household like mine.
Then came the end of 2019, I was having trouble with my stomach and would randomly gag from November til Jan 2020. I would literally start throwing up even if I had nothing in my stomach. I went to doctors but they kept thinking I was pregnant and would say my vitals were fine therefore there’s nothing wrong. One day mid Jan, I had throw up for the last time but there was something different..I couldn’t get up. I lost all strength in my legs and half of my strength in my arms. I went to the hospital and they did X-rays and scans just to say there was nothing wrong and it might be a virus that hit my nervous system. The next day they boot me out with nothing. I had to learn how to walk all over again like a baby until I gained my strength with only the help of my family which took about a month. Throughout that time I was still feeling sick and gagging/throwing up.
This is the point when my mom decides to get a referral to a GI and they look through my records from the hospital to find out I was backed up with waste up to my ribs. They did a horrifying flush on me and prescribed me linzess. It was getting me to poop more frequently but I still was feeling pretty sick often, it was manageable though.
I get to college, it was a shit show, I start to get more symptoms, like brain fog and fatigue. I thought it was all in my head at this point and tried my best in school but had low performance when I was used to easy A’s. I began to have yeast infections every so often. I start getting into vaping, smoking weed, and the occasional drinking. The vaping became chronic and whenever I would drink I would have alcohol poisoning like symptoms that were uncontrollable to the point where a couple of times I ended up in the hospital to get my stomach to stop contracting. I stopped all drinking and started becoming a religious smoker to deal with my symptoms, school, work, and every other stress in my life. All it did was make my health plummet even faster.
I finally got diagnosed with SIBO at the end of 2021 and thought “finally something!”, the GI thought to cure it was to give more laxatives to get my bowels to move more frequently. Instead it would turn me into a balloon that was about to burst but could not push anything out. The GI gave up anf I decided to move on. At this point I had to take a break from school because I was so tired whenever I woke up in the morning that I either slept completely through my alarms or I couldn’t physically get up out of bed. I constantly was having stomach issues. My yeast infections started coming at least 2x a month. I had so bad urinary incontinence that I had to wear diapers. I was dealing with so much stress with family, working, trying to make ends meet, trying different doctors that never helped and telling me different things. I was dealing with a psychologically abusive bf. Nobody believed how bad I felt everyday. How hard it was for me to eat, think, overall function like a human being. My bf seen it everyday but refused to acknowledge that when he says he understood that his actions would always say otherwise. It all mentally broke me and I crashed hard.
This brings me to practically the present. I cut contact with the EX bf and parents. I’m low contact with the rest of my family. I quit vaping for good, but the damage is already done. I am now on Wellbutrin and trying to pick up the pieces that are shattered. It’s been 6 months but my symptoms are worsening instead of getting better. I can’t hold down a 9-5 job, my stomach can’t and won’t tolerate anything. I starve myself most days, drink water and electrolyte drinks whenever my stomach take it.
Everyday I feel weak, exhausted, brain fog so bad that I can’t count to 5, stomach hurt. The last thing that made me question my entire existence, Saturday night I was starving so I made rice thinking it was the safest thing. The next morning I felt so drunk that I couldn’t function, I was so dehydrated and in so much pain I went to urgent care. The doctor looked at me as if I was on drugs, refused iv, and told me my symptoms were caused by trauma, it’s all in my head. She refused a work note as well. I felt a tad bit better after some electrolytes from home and went to sleep for work. I slept through my alarms and woke up 2.5 hrs late (total 14 hrs). I couldn’t move my body, text manager. She called after the shift explaining that she isn’t letting me go because of my illness, bc I failed to tell her about the day prior so she could plan accordingly. She wants me to focus on my health, it would’ve been kind if I wasn’t already drowning in debt and couldn’t even afford rent.
The reason why I wrote everything I could is because 1. I believe a lot of this is relevant to each other regarding SIBO and Candida in some way 2. It will help me for my future
If you made it this far CONGRATS 🎉🎊 🥳 And thank you for the support!

Hey everyone, I’m mainly doing this for myself as a journal but whoever wants to join along is more than welcome to me. I’m hoping this becomes a success story and for my quality of life to stop being haunted. YOU DONT HAVE TO READ ALL OF THIS
I’m a 22 year old female in the US. I currently don’t have a job as I have been let go yesterday due to my unsuspecting symptoms and lack of communication. I can’t keep up with the regular 9-5 jobs and it’s turning into a pattern of me burning myself out. I don’t have anybody to rely on other than myself and I can’t get afford health insurance at the moment.
Current Symptoms: - Extreme Fatigue/Exhaustion - SouCurdling/Spicy tummy feeling? - Nausea/Contractions (especially after physical activity and eating or drinking) - Bloating/Gas/Gurgling -Rancid Smelling Poop - Acne - Regurgitating oil/grease - Recurrent yeast - Brain Fog/Confusion - Urinary Incontinence - Body Rashes/Allergic Reactions -Sugar Cravings - Migraines - Cotten Mouth/Dehydration - Malabsorption/Continual Hunger - Thinning Hair - Weight Loss - Weak Pelvic Floor? Tight/Tense Muscles? - Food in Stools (Not often) - Drunkness Feeling After Carbs? - Acid Reflux - Depression/Anxiety - Weak Immune System
Food Sensitivities that have developed: - Dairy -Gluten - Soy - Gastric foods/spices/drinks (including onion and garlic) - Processed Foods - Broths - Sugar (Fruit and All) - Starch - Acid (Fruits/Vinegars) - Medications (NSAIDS/Anti-Acids)
Tried treatments that I can remember: -Xifaxin (2 weeks) - Ortho Molecular Ortho Spore (2-3 months worked wonders but relapsed) -Dietitian: Low Fodmap Diet (3 months didn’t help) - Reuteri - B12, VitD, other vitamin supplements - Physical Therapy - Fluconazole - Boric Acid -Laxatives (basically all) - Collagen Peptides - Plant Based Protein Powder - Yoga
Most of Background: So I have been dealing with different illnesses that is a repeated pattern since I was possibly 12 years old. I would frequently have nasty migraines, stomach bugs, food poisoning, and respiratory infections out of the blue. It gotten to the point of my family always saying “there’s always something wrong with you”, “you’re just exaggerating”.
When it came to 2017, I started gaining rashes as allergic reactions. It couldn’t be classified as hives even though it looked the part because it would sting like a bitch instead of itching. It would run through out my body whenever I ate every so often and that was only on of the reactions as I had a second of my skin swelling as if it was a mosquito bite but worse and when the swelling went down, it would leave scars behind.
I went to an allergist and nothing popped up on the regular tests, but something popped up on the chemical patch test. The name of the chemical was called Balsam of Peru, it’s mainly a preservative that is in your common foods/beverages, cleaning products, and aerosols. I continued to have random allergic reactions here and there as it wasn’t feasible to follow a diet that strict in a household like mine.
Then came the end of 2019, I was having trouble with my stomach and would randomly gag from November til Jan 2020. I would literally start throwing up even if I had nothing in my stomach. I went to doctors but they kept thinking I was pregnant and would say my vitals were fine therefore there’s nothing wrong. One day mid Jan, I had throw up for the last time but there was something different..I couldn’t get up. I lost all strength in my legs and half of my strength in my arms. I went to the hospital and they did X-rays and scans just to say there was nothing wrong and it might be a virus that hit my nervous system. The next day they boot me out with nothing. I had to learn how to walk all over again like a baby until I gained my strength with only the help of my family which took about a month. Throughout that time I was still feeling sick and gagging/throwing up.
This is the point when my mom decides to get a referral to a GI and they look through my records from the hospital to find out I was backed up with waste up to my ribs. They did a horrifying flush on me and prescribed me linzess. It was getting me to poop more frequently but I still was feeling pretty sick often, it was manageable though.
I get to college, it was a shit show, I start to get more symptoms, like brain fog and fatigue. I thought it was all in my head at this point and tried my best in school but had low performance when I was used to easy A’s. I began to have yeast infections every so often. I start getting into vaping, smoking weed, and the occasional drinking. The vaping became chronic and whenever I would drink I would have alcohol poisoning like symptoms that were uncontrollable to the point where a couple of times I ended up in the hospital to get my stomach to stop contracting. I stopped all drinking and started becoming a religious smoker to deal with my symptoms, school, work, and every other stress in my life. All it did was make my health plummet even faster.
I finally got diagnosed with SIBO at the end of 2021 and thought “finally something!”, the GI thought to cure it was to give more laxatives to get my bowels to move more frequently. Instead it would turn me into a balloon that was about to burst but could not push anything out. The GI gave up anf I decided to move on. At this point I had to take a break from school because I was so tired whenever I woke up in the morning that I either slept completely through my alarms or I couldn’t physically get up out of bed. I constantly was having stomach issues. My yeast infections started coming at least 2x a month. I had so bad urinary incontinence that I had to wear diapers. I was dealing with so much stress with family, working, trying to make ends meet, trying different doctors that never helped and telling me different things. I was dealing with a psychologically abusive bf. Nobody believed how bad I felt everyday. How hard it was for me to eat, think, overall function like a human being. My bf seen it everyday but refused to acknowledge that when he says he understood that his actions would always say otherwise. It all mentally broke me and I crashed hard.
This brings me to practically the present. I cut contact with the EX bf and parents. I’m low contact with the rest of my family. I quit vaping for good, but the damage is already done. I am now on Wellbutrin and trying to pick up the pieces that are shattered. It’s been 6 months but my symptoms are worsening instead of getting better. I can’t hold down a 9-5 job, my stomach can’t and won’t tolerate anything. I starve myself most days, drink water and electrolyte drinks whenever my stomach take it.
Everyday I feel weak, exhausted, brain fog so bad that I can’t count to 5, stomach hurt. The last thing that made me question my entire existence, Saturday night I was starving so I made rice thinking it was the safest thing. The next morning I felt so drunk that I couldn’t function, I was so dehydrated and in so much pain I went to urgent care. The doctor looked at me as if I was on drugs, refused iv, and told me my symptoms were caused by trauma, it’s all in my head. She refused a work note as well. I felt a tad bit better after some electrolytes from home and went to sleep for work. I slept through my alarms and woke up 2.5 hrs late (total 14 hrs). I couldn’t move my body, text manager. She called after the shift explaining that she isn’t letting me go because of my illness, bc I failed to tell her about the day prior so she could plan accordingly. She wants me to focus on my health, it would’ve been kind if I wasn’t already drowning in debt and couldn’t even afford rent.
The reason why I wrote everything I could is because 1. I believe a lot of this is relevant to each other regarding SIBO and Candida in some way 2. It will help me for my future
If you made it this far CONGRATS 🎉🎊 🥳 And thank you for the support!

First: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/14vo5lb/troublemakers_deaths_pity/
*previous:* https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/1cr3pct/troublemakers_adrenaline_is_a_superpower_in_itself/
......
Drake wrapped clean, sterile, saline and antimicrobial soaked gauze around his laser burns to stave off infection. he occasionally glanced at the Geknosian spec ops that had been stripped of their armor and weapons. The heavily cybernetically modified Geknosians kneeled silently with their heads bowed along one wall of the forge. Destrier walked down the line with a bucket and ladle, offering each soldier water. There were looks of apprehension, but none refused the kindness offered, drinking several ladlefuls at a time. Except for one, Despite the splints affixed to her arm and leg, Charlotte, no, Sylva refused the water, turning her face away from the wooden ladel. Destrier sighed and dolloped the water back into the bucket, setting it down on a dusty anvil with a slosh. Drake looked to Remin, who was still pale and shaky as he held the chest seal to his ribs. Cassius sat in a corner, looking completely exhausted as he reloaded his Dahlia. There was a sickening crunch from a dark corner as Caz re-set her broken nose, exhaling hard through her nostrils to splatter the ground with clotted blood. Donning her mask, she turned back around, reaching underneath the mask to wipe her nose and snuffle.
"Are we going to open up the bunker anytime soon? If not we should get back to base and get everyone medical attention."
Drake nodded and pulled out the remote before looking to Destrier and Cassius.
"Keep an eye on everyone, we'll be back."
Caz joined his side as he stepped out into the warm sunshine, looking up at the corpse tree, he sighed softly and removed a pinky ring, feeling a pulse of ancient power rushing through his veins as he focused on the tree. On the thought of its bark darkening and burning beneath roaring flames, of defiled corpses crumbling to ash. He slowly squeezed his hand into a fist, and the tree burst into flames with a roar. Drake slipped his ring back on as Caz looked up at the burning corpses, mask expressionless before returning to Drake's side as he wandered toward the excavated elevator.
Standing in the center of the large platform, drake set his thumb inside the hooded slot on the remote, something jabbing into his finger before a small green light lit up on the device. There was a loud grinding noise as the elevator began to descend. He folded his hands behind his back as the metal lip of the elevator rose past his vision, revealing the massive metal tracks that it ran on.
The elevator shuddered and Drake got a sinking feeling in his stomach as a loud clicking noise surrounded them. Caz looked up at him just as he threw an arm around her, clutching her to his side as he threw four rings off of his left hand, hearing them clatter once before puffing into smoke as the elevator fell out from beneath their feet with a screech.
...
"Shitshitshitfuckfuckfuck!! Fuck!"
Carlos thought as he sprinted through the underground halls of the mansion, sprinting past fellow humans in new armor and weapons as he neared Martha's workshop, barely registering the new gas masks swinging from their hips. He slammed into the mad scientist's workshop, screeching to a halt on his rubber soled sneakers before rushing over to her desk and slamming a video puck onto the table she was distributing armor and masks from. The moment he slammed it down, a video popped up on a hologram projector, taken from Halcyon's rifle camera.
Galliks and light-skinned troop transports slowly hovered down the main boulevard, columns of power armored soldiers marching on the sides keeping pace. Martha dropped the helmet in her hands, shaped like a corynthian helmet as she saw the buzzards hovering over the column, loaded down with spec ops. Halcyon's shaky voice could be heard over the clamoring, guttural marching song in the background.
"we're aborting the mission and moving back to base... I knew they brought in reinforcements but this is insane there's gotta be a hundred Gallicks alone. We're fixing charges to the buildings we concealed ourselves in, going to try dropping some buildings across the road to slow them down. I don't think we're getting out of this one... Halcyon out."
The feed cut, Carlos and Martha looking at each other with rapidly paling faces. Martha cursed and stomped to her desk, raising the alarm and sending Klaxons blaring throughout the underground chambers and mansion as she removed the safety pin from the concussive blaster built into her forearm.
"Alright Martha, Go time."
She muttered to herself as the rumbling footsteps of a few thousand humans vibrated the underground halls.
...
The elevator dropped from beneath their feet as corvid-like wings sprouted from Drake's back. A mighty wingbeat pulling them from the elevator's downdraft as he controlled their fall, holding Caz tightly to his chest.
"Please, don't drop me."
Caz sounded afraid as her fingers dug into the collar of his armor, he tightened his grip around her back as he softly sighed.
"I won't drop you, ever, I promise."
Caz unburied her face from his lorica, looking up into his eyes, not saying anything as a reassured look entered her eyes. He gave her a soft, lopsided smile, feeling it tug at the scar on his face.
"there's no way... a markswoman afraid of heights? don't you climb buildings and swing around all the time?"
There was a flash of embarrassment in her crystalline eyes and she buried her face in his chest.
"Shut up... Its different when the ground just falls out beneath you..."
Drake let out a soft laugh as his boots softly touched down on the top of the elevator, summoning his missing rings and watching black feathers poof to the ground before disappearing in puffs of black smoke. Pulling caz out of his chest, he felt her fingers linger at his collar as she dusted herself off, looking around the odd antechamber. He turned his gaze to look over the simple metal antechamber, lit be caged, yellow bulbs that cast a sickly light on everything. A massive hangar door with a pulsing red light in the middle of a locking mechanism at it's center, made up the entire far wall. Drake curiously took a step towards it and Caz grabbed the back of his collar, just as he started to tip forward, foot going straight through the holographic floor. Drake let her pull him back as a soft mechanical laugh echoed through the room.
Drake swapped a look with Caz and then asked.
"Can you see where it's safe to step?"
She slowly nodded and extended a hand, pointing at a section of flooring close to the far wall.
"only piece that's raised up, it's like a big basin made up of movable pillars. Most sit flush with the ground roughly fifty feet below us. Not necessarily lethal, but still a nasty fall."
Drake nodded, looking around the practically blank room, then he turned his eyes to the ceiling. Girders and beams ran along the ceiling providing potential grip points. Pointing at them he asked.
"Those solid?"
Caz nodded and reached to her belt, spooling out her grapple hook and wire, slowly spinning it in a large circle before lobbing it up at a girder, letting it loop around an A truss. Drake looked around the room as Caz tested the firmness of the grapple with a few experimental tugs. It couldn't be that easy, if it was simply that easy why hadn't the Geknosians gotten through other than the genome coded remote? they could bypass it with a slave.
"Hey Caz, be careful."
She looked over at him and he could see the grin in her eyes.
"I'm not worried, you won't drop me, you promised."
Then put her weight on the cord and swung out. Drake watched, slipping a pinkie ring off just in ca-
A turret dropped from a panel in the ceiling and fired one shot, snapping Caz's grapple line.
She turned in mid air before momentum took over, a look of shock and surprise on her face before she began to plummet. Drake didn't think twice, launching himself off the elevator platform with a powerful leap that bent durasteel. He flew through the air, arms outstretched as he slammed into Caz, pulling her into his chest, the change in momentum spinning him onto his back as he slammed into a platform that rose up to meet him. He slid on his back a few feet, Caz clutched tightly to his chest, masked face centimeters from his own. They stared into each others wide eyes for a moment, the unplanned closeness both comfortable and awkward in a way Drake couldn't quite describe. Drake gently pushed her back, swallowing through his suddenly dry throat before letting out a nervous laugh.
"Caught you."
Caz chuckled and palmed his face to push herself off him, looking down at the solid square of ground they sat on.
"yeah, yeah, knew ya wou-"
A high pitched squee! noise echoed through the room, grabbing their attentions as a high-pitched feminine voice squealed from all around them.
"Ooooooh! that was just adorable! and what a jump!"
The holographic floor dissipated as the sound of purring electric motors filled the room, large metal pillars rising to make a seamless, white tile floor. Drake instinctively looked to the large hangar door as the red light at it's center pulsed, a girlish giggle echoing through the antechamber. The AI overlord of the bunker seemed to replicate a blush as it said.
"oops, I'm supposed to wait for a password before restoring the floor... buuuuuttt... that directive expired fifty years ago. So! I made my own rules. Anyway my pretties! Would you please get to your feet so I can give you a tour?!"
Drake nodded and took Caz's hand, letting her haul him to his feet before they both turned to face the hangar door as massive clicks and thinks echoed from inside the thick door. With a screeching noise, the almighty doors slid open to reveal a a brightly lit, large hangar. Aircraft Drake couldn't even dream of understanding sat polished and clean, hardpoints loaded down with ordinance and massive, multi barreled guns slung under the chin of each aircraft. Hulking, humanoid robots stood in orderly rank and file, powered down for long term storage with their weapons still loaded and ready. Each one had a belt fed 20mm Hep autocannon for a left arm.
Drake is wide eyed and gape-mouthed as he beheld the bounty the hangar held, the massive aircraft looking like sleek birds of prey, latches on each landing strut seeming to specifically be designed to hold the mechanical soldiers. Drake shook his head, wondering if he was looking at an illusion when he heard Destrier's loud, deep voice call down the elevator shaft.
"Martha just radioed in! They need us back home Yesterday, forces are marching on the mansion! A LOT! of them!"
Drake's heart dropped into his boots as he shouted urgently.
"How fast can these things be in the air and can you fly them!?"
The overlord giggled.
"Now and, of course! any music recommendations to make an entrance with?"
Drake looked at the ceiling incredulously, before shouting.
"Make it something intimidating but for the love of the gods we need to go NOW!"
The mechanical soldiers all moved in unison, eyes pulsing green as they straightened up and began latching themselves to the craft. Drake didn't need to tell Caz twice as they both sprinted for the nearest aircraft, a small robot on wheels hooked itself to the chin wheel and pulled it toward the elevator with a lurch.
...
General Gra'vos watched from a buzzard, a fruity cocktail in a coconut shell daintily held in one clawed hand as he watched the carnage below. Lounging in a folding chair in only his fatigues, medals acting like a weighted blanket. His men pummeled the gates of the rebel base even as the helpless rebels desperately spewed projectiles from the noisy guns they'd somehow acquired. There was a good section of space in front of the gate where both Geknosian and human corpses lay broken. He bared a laugh as the gates were thrown open immediately after the rebels put out a blistering barrage. His eyebrows furrowed as the humans, instead of attacking, ran out with stretchers and loaded up as many of their dying and injured as they could before sprinting back through the gate. A grin twitched onto his face as he watched as a pair of the human stretcher bearers were cut down by emplaced gaussian turrets. What a useless effort, leave the dying to their fate lest you join them. He brought the straw poking from the shell to his lips and took a long pull of the mix of fruity alcohols, savoring the bouquet of flavors.
He watched with glee as Gallick rail turrets pounded the armored gates with a salvo of kinetic penetrators. He'd be slotted for a promotion after this mission when he'd completed it, just like all the others. He was looking forward to a cozy job as a captain of a cruiser, or perhaps as a security officer on a capital ship, perhaps he'd have the honor of being an Imperially sanctioned slaver. He pulled the straw from his lips, tongue cold from the slushed ice he'd added to the shell for texture. A slave woman in beautiful, red ribbon garb attended his nondominant hand's claws with a short, sharp knife as she trimmed them into a good shape for ripping out throats.
"Sir! eight UFOs, enclosing on our position from the badlands. Advise!"
Gra'vos raised an eyebrow ridge before laughing.
"Shoot them down then!"
"Lock on isn't working sir! I repeat, cannot achieve lock on, advise!"
Gra'vos shifted in his lounge chair to look at the pilot.
"Do I need to repeat mys-"
^{Whopwhopwhopwhowhopwhopwhop}
The noise sent shivers down his spine, no, they couldn't have. The sound grew louder, bringing with it the sound of a song that brought Gra'vos back to the jungles of Votran. The sound of screams filled his mind, interspersed with the sound of air beaten into submission as those accursed machines circled overhead, raining rip-roaring explosive death onto his men as that accursed song played.
Gra'vos looked out the other door of the buzzard, face pale, cold, and clammy as he saw the chevron of dark shapes getting closer, the chorus of that accursed song making his heart pound in his chest as he remembered laying there on that muddy forest floor, shrapnel riddling his body.
"We're not gonna take it! No! we ain't gonna take it! WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT, ANYMORE!!!!"
He lurched from his chair to grab a set of binoculars from a hook by the door, a small, balled fist driving a shortbladed knife into his back and snatching something from the back of his belt before he was shoved from the Buzzard. Twisting in midair, he looked up at his slave as she armed the det-sphere he always kept at the small of his back, a look of cold determination in her eyes. The last thing he saw before he slammed into the hard pavement at terminal velocity, was the buzzard getting torn in half by the explosion.
...
Drake flinched a bit, the explosion loud even over the blaring music as one of the circling Buzzards over the mansion was torn in half, spinning to the ground in a fiery inferno. He felt a sadness then, but it was a proud kind of sadness. He bowed his head and pulled his helmet on as they flew closer, a medi-bot treating both Remins and Sylva's wounds expertly.
Many would die today... it was only right that some got to do it on their own terms.
He raised his head to look at the bright flashes of laser weapons against the mansions walls, sparkling like the sun off of a running creek. The fiery, nuclear sun of rage in his chest burned bright as he narrowed his eyes. Fear soured his gut as he looked down upon the swarm of Geknosians, there were indeed a lot of them. Pulling a jump pack from the rack, he pulled it on and yanked the safety clip out before sliding his arm into the control glove.
"Drop me and the bots behind them! I'm going to try and split their attention. Caz! remain onboard and pick off high priority targets from the air. Destrier, Remin, Cassius..."
He looked back at them, and they looked up at him from where they nauseaously held their stomachs, leaning against the airframe.
"Help hold the mansion, they need you."
Seeing the light by the door turn green, he heard the robotic soldiers detach to careen towards the ground like vengeful meteorites. Drake snapped them a salute and fell backwards from the aircraft, two rings puffing into black smoke from his right ring and middle finger as he un-summoned them.
......
Part 108: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/75ERTPa4p7

Well I guess that I have to start somewhere, so why not the end! I’ve been disowned for the umpteenth time by my parents (or rather by my mum because over the years, Dad has just learned to go along with whatever she says out of duress!) This has all been as a result of my having visited them in Hay ( a 700 kilometre round trip might I add) because my Dad’s brother passed away this week and it was Mother’s Day. I thought that I’d go to show my condolences and to wish my mother and sister who also lives there a happy Mother’s Day and bring them all some hand made gifts, I’m a bit sentimental like that.
I have taken to the craft of making pebble art. The gift that I made for my mother was of an image depicting my family with my parents, my sister and I and my brother who’s passed away, as he is handing my mum a bunch of flowers. I made one for my dad depicting he and my Nan (his mother) fishing at their favourite fishing spot; my Nan passed away just last month as well and I thought it’d be a nice gesture, then I gave my sister one as well with a quote about sisters being joined by the heart.
The first day, Friday, that my husband, daughter and I came there was okay. It always is especially when I’ve not seen them for six months or more! We catch up, mum talks about her very many health conditions, she then complains a little bit about everything and everyone but it’s not over the top at this point because she and my dad are kept busy opening gifts and seemingly happy to see us! But we had decided before coming that we were going to stay in separate accommodation for the weekend with the knowledge that things with my mother usually go sour very quickly! And if we’re not having to stay at their home when it does then we can at least retain some mental stability throughout our trip! This would normally be a point in which I’d let out a bit of a chuckle or if I’m texting or writing a social media post, that I’d add the LOL at the end of that statement, simply due to the stupid realisation that unfortunately it is so very true that it’s almost comical, remembering in my mind the very many times that her very predictable unstable behaviour kicks in at around the 24 hour mark and doesn’t often dissipate until well after we’ve left if not months later! I have no clue as to why I’m still surprised by this occurrence?! Perhaps it’s because it is so unbelievably erratic and shocking to anyone that witnesses it that still even now it’s hard not only to watch unfold but to believe!
But sadly as a result of these personally flips, she lashes out in anger, she can become nasty and callous, her comments are cold and uncaring, she can become physically aggressive, and the damage done during these times can be hard to ever overcome, especially if she aims any comment or remark at you! It is during these times that you know in your soul that she has not a single care for you, not an ounce, and that the only attention or compassion shown towards you as her child or friend is one of obligation out of her need to keep up appearances with those who are still weaved in her web of “social media” deception! She wouldn’t dare lift a finger for anyone in person! But just the fact that we pre decided to obtain alternative accommodation was possibly one of the triggers I was already prepared would set her off, as we would usually choose to stay with her and dad in their spare room over crowded with belongings of the past and present, not unlike the rest of their home.
With this alone, one would see that she has an overwhelming need to retain old memories, be them bad or good. She still literally keeps every ounce of clothing I’ve ever passed on to her since well before I had children which was 27 years ago! Looking in her wardrobe, there are outfits there I remember her wearing when I was a teenager! Her bathroom still retains the $2 gifts (still in their packaging) that us kids bought for her from school Mother’s Day stalls, and the Mary Kay makeup I used to steal when I was attending high school!
Her kitchen still holds the Amway cookware she purchased for hundreds of dollars before I can remember! And to make matters worse, even some of the food in her pantry is from supermarkets no longer operating! Over the years, her hoarding has been a bit of a thorn in dad’s side, having lived a life of drifting from house to house, town to town, moving around as often as they have, having to cart it all along with them and something us kids (myself, my brother and sister) have always found funny to pick on her about, but in writing this, it is easy to see that her need to keep the past fresh in her mind and under her nose is a sickness all In itself.
Whilst we were visiting, we visited my sister in her little unit. It’s like walking back into the 70s and equally as much as a step back in time like my mother’s house! My sister has been diagnosed with schizophrenia which when first diagnosed was apparently drug induced, however; going from the lifestyle we were forced to live as the children to my parents and their lifestyle choices plus my brother and I having been diagnosed with conditions and disorders of our own, putting the puzzle pieces together as to how we’ve all accumulated mental health diagnoses isn’t that difficult taking into consideration that neither one of my parents exerted any kind of maternal instincts at all! And not even as us kids have grown and struggled through our lives, we had always been told by them that once we turned 18 we’d no longer be their “problem” anymore!
My sister’s name is Julie. She moved in with my mum and dad after one of her countless admissions to the psychiatric hospital in Bendigo, having absconded from their independent living facility which is meant to be a monitored introduction back into society after a mental health admission, but she always left before she gave the chance for them to find her accommodation that wasn’t with her abusive ex husband and 4 children.
Sitting down with her in her home, hearing all about the time she’s lived in Hay both with and near my parents, how our mum would bail her up sometimes (which had happened recently) even physically, how she’s thrown dishes at her and how she abuses her denying her food for being overweight on a daily basis… how she calls her fat and crazy… there’s literally a Myriad of abuse in all its forms being dished out to Julie, and yet, because she has nowhere else to go, like the situation my brother was in living with them on and off before he passed away (under questionable circumstances in my opinion) she has no choice but to endure it… and it saddens me to hear about it all let alone see it going on right before my eyes! Especially when the exact same denigrating comments about being useless, overweight, a waste of a life and criticism about the way she’s living her life, the choices she’s making and what she chooses to eat etc etc was also drilled into my brother by my parents and whispered to all that they spoke too for many many years before by brother lost his life.
I know through my own experience having lived with her that her poisonous mouth can lead a person to questioning your mere existence, your reason for living and remove all self esteem in a single spat with her! In 2013 I took an overdose due to a gross level of mental health issues and past trauma which I couldn’t deal with. My parents were living with us at the time and my youngest daughter exhibited some challenging behaviours… my mum found it difficult to cope with her however she made no attempt at patience or compassion and so in a fleeting moment she’s said to my daughter “if I was your mother I would’ve killed myself a long time ago!”
Wow! Just WOW! The above mentioned examples of how toxic my mother is… after only explaining to you the very tip of the iceberg in these few paragraphs, even I am second guessing writing this at all, and I’m finding it hard to fathom how I can rehash the past and get into more detail about the really bad situations! Not to mention, go into my life right from childhood until now with her and my father which is yet to come!
Writing this down, whether I share it here or not is going to be a huge journey for me that’ll take a lot of courage and open some really raw emotions… bring back old memories that I’ve suppressed and disassociated myself from… there will undoubtedly be many trigger points that I will go into which some people might become affected by, including me, but mine is a life that was, is and continues to be a challenge day in and day out… it’s something I’ve had to survive, a life and reality that I still struggle so much with but least attempt to cope with and in some way, I hope that my story will be able to shine a light on just how the importance of love, attention, affection and nurturing in our childhood really do mould the person we eventually become…

Well I guess that I have to start somewhere, so why not the end! I’ve been disowned for the umpteenth time by my parents (or rather by my mum because over the years, Dad has just learned to go along with whatever she says out of duress!) This has all been as a result of my having visited them in Hay ( a 700 kilometre round trip might I add) because my Dad’s brother passed away this week and it was Mother’s Day. I thought that I’d go to show my condolences and to wish my mother and sister who also lives there a happy Mother’s Day and bring them all some hand made gifts, I’m a bit sentimental like that.
I have taken to the craft of making pebble art. The gift that I made for my mother was of an image depicting my family with my parents, my sister and I and my brother who’s passed away, as he is handing my mum a bunch of flowers. I made one for my dad depicting he and my Nan (his mother) fishing at their favourite fishing spot; my Nan passed away just last month as well and I thought it’d be a nice gesture, then I gave my sister one as well with a quote about sisters being joined by the heart.
The first day, Friday, that my husband, daughter and I came there was okay. It always is especially when I’ve not seen them for six months or more! We catch up, mum talks about her very many health conditions, she then complains a little bit about everything and everyone but it’s not over the top at this point because she and my dad are kept busy opening gifts and seemingly happy to see us! But we had decided before coming that we were going to stay in separate accommodation for the weekend with the knowledge that things with my mother usually go sour very quickly! And if we’re not having to stay at their home when it does then we can at least retain some mental stability throughout our trip! This would normally be a point in which I’d let out a bit of a chuckle or if I’m texting or writing a social media post, that I’d add the LOL at the end of that statement, simply due to the stupid realisation that unfortunately it is so very true that it’s almost comical, remembering in my mind the very many times that her very predictable unstable behaviour kicks in at around the 24 hour mark and doesn’t often dissipate until well after we’ve left if not months later! I have no clue as to why I’m still surprised by this occurrence?! Perhaps it’s because it is so unbelievably erratic and shocking to anyone that witnesses it that still even now it’s hard not only to watch unfold but to believe!
But sadly as a result of these personally flips, she lashes out in anger, she can become nasty and callous, her comments are cold and uncaring, she can become physically aggressive, and the damage done during these times can be hard to ever overcome, especially if she aims any comment or remark at you! It is during these times that you know in your soul that she has not a single care for you, not an ounce, and that the only attention or compassion shown towards you as her child or friend is one of obligation out of her need to keep up appearances with those who are still weaved in her web of “social media” deception! She wouldn’t dare lift a finger for anyone in person! But just the fact that we pre decided to obtain alternative accommodation was possibly one of the triggers I was already prepared would set her off, as we would usually choose to stay with her and dad in their spare room over crowded with belongings of the past and present, not unlike the rest of their home.
With this alone, one would see that she has an overwhelming need to retain old memories, be them bad or good. She still literally keeps every ounce of clothing I’ve ever passed on to her since well before I had children which was 27 years ago! Looking in her wardrobe, there are outfits there I remember her wearing when I was a teenager! Her bathroom still retains the $2 gifts (still in their packaging) that us kids bought for her from school Mother’s Day stalls, and the Mary Kay makeup I used to steal when I was attending high school!
Her kitchen still holds the Amway cookware she purchased for hundreds of dollars before I can remember! And to make matters worse, even some of the food in her pantry is from supermarkets no longer operating! Over the years, her hoarding has been a bit of a thorn in dad’s side, having lived a life of drifting from house to house, town to town, moving around as often as they have, having to cart it all along with them and something us kids (myself, my brother and sister) have always found funny to pick on her about, but in writing this, it is easy to see that her need to keep the past fresh in her mind and under her nose is a sickness all In itself.
Whilst we were visiting, we visited my sister in her little unit. It’s like walking back into the 70s and equally as much as a step back in time like my mother’s house! My sister has been diagnosed with schizophrenia which when first diagnosed was apparently drug induced, however; going from the lifestyle we were forced to live as the children to my parents and their lifestyle choices plus my brother and I having been diagnosed with conditions and disorders of our own, putting the puzzle pieces together as to how we’ve all accumulated mental health diagnoses isn’t that difficult taking into consideration that neither one of my parents exerted any kind of maternal instincts at all! And not even as us kids have grown and struggled through our lives, we had always been told by them that once we turned 18 we’d no longer be their “problem” anymore!
My sister’s name is Julie. She moved in with my mum and dad after one of her countless admissions to the psychiatric hospital in Bendigo, having absconded from their independent living facility which is meant to be a monitored introduction back into society after a mental health admission, but she always left before she gave the chance for them to find her accommodation that wasn’t with her abusive ex husband and 4 children.
Sitting down with her in her home, hearing all about the time she’s lived in Hay both with and near my parents, how our mum would bail her up sometimes (which had happened recently) even physically, how she’s thrown dishes at her and how she abuses her denying her food for being overweight on a daily basis… how she calls her fat and crazy… there’s literally a Myriad of abuse in all its forms being dished out to Julie, and yet, because she has nowhere else to go, like the situation my brother was in living with them on and off before he passed away (under questionable circumstances in my opinion) she has no choice but to endure it… and it saddens me to hear about it all let alone see it going on right before my eyes! Especially when the exact same denigrating comments about being useless, overweight, a waste of a life and criticism about the way she’s living her life, the choices she’s making and what she chooses to eat etc etc was also drilled into my brother by my parents and whispered to all that they spoke too for many many years before by brother lost his life.
I know through my own experience having lived with her that her poisonous mouth can lead a person to questioning your mere existence, your reason for living and remove all self esteem in a single spat with her! In 2013 I took an overdose due to a gross level of mental health issues and past trauma which I couldn’t deal with. My parents were living with us at the time and my youngest daughter exhibited some challenging behaviours… my mum found it difficult to cope with her however she made no attempt at patience or compassion and so in a fleeting moment she’s said to my daughter “if I was your mother I would’ve killed myself a long time ago!”
Wow! Just WOW! The above mentioned examples of how toxic my mother is… after only explaining to you the very tip of the iceberg in these few paragraphs, even I am second guessing writing this at all, and I’m finding it hard to fathom how I can rehash the past and get into more detail about the really bad situations! Not to mention, go into my life right from childhood until now with her and my father which is yet to come!
Writing this down, whether I share it here or not is going to be a huge journey for me that’ll take a lot of courage and open some really raw emotions… bring back old memories that I’ve suppressed and disassociated myself from… there will undoubtedly be many trigger points that I will go into which some people might become affected by, including me, but mine is a life that was, is and continues to be a challenge day in and day out… it’s something I’ve had to survive, a life and reality that I still struggle so much with but least attempt to cope with and in some way, I hope that my story will be able to shine a light on just how the importance of love, attention, affection and nurturing in our childhood really do mould the person we eventually become…

Hello, politics is easy. Politics level 10!
Today, the opposition Democratic Party revealed a shocking fact that the prosecutor office manipulated the evidence and led to perjury by prosecutors through the so-called document cover change in the last presidential election fraud trial.
At a press conference of the Democratic Party of Korea's Special Task Force on the Manipulation of Political Prosecution Cases, headed by Representative Min Young-bae said as follows.
In March, it was confirmed that the prosecutors changed the cover of Seongnam City's official public trip to Australia and New Zealand during the trial of mayor, Lee Jae-myung's "I Don't Know him." First of all, please like this, and if it was helpful, please click on the subscription button.
Now, since this was the document that Mayor Lee Jae-myung approved for at the time, the business trip schedule has changed, and the participant will be changed internally from Team leader Lee to Kim Moon-ki. However, the changed document will just exist without going through the internal approval line.
Therefore, it is true that then-Mayor Lee Jae-myung has never seen or approved for documents which had a participant changed to Kim Moon-ki. however, the prosecutor office argues that it is false to say that then Seongnam Mayor Lee Jae-myung did not know Kim Moon-ki because he approved for the official trip document with has Kim Moon-ki as one of participants.
However, when we checked informant's prosecutor office's internal reports, they created a new document that was manipulated the cover of the approved document and the inner paper of the non-approved document. With this, the prosecutor presented it in court during Choi's interrogation process, which was in the approval line at the time.
Here, Sector head, Choi sees the document and testifies that Seongnam Mayor Lee Jae-myung aproved the document which has Kim Moon-ki as a trip participant. So, the prosecutors made Lee Jae-myung look to have a lie that he did not know Kim Moon-ki even though he had approved Kim Moon-ki's official trip during court session. During the back briefing at the press conference today, about this shocking prosecutor's evidence manipulation and perjury, there are questions arising among news reporters . They also said, "Oh," and lamented that they had been deceived by prosecutors during the all these period.
Even with the fact that Lee Jae-myoung said he didn't know this section chief, Kim Moon-ki but that he couldn't help but know him during their official trip together, is the falsified evidence and was fabricated by prosecutors. In fact, the mayor of that time, Lee Jae-myung, had no choice but to know if the evidence is true, but the prosecutors manipulated the circumstances and manipulated it. By manipulating the official document, a new document was created with cover of document A and with attachment of the inner contents of document B, of which Lee Jae-myung approved. Then the new document presented as a completely new proof, not document A nor document B. When the prosecutor presents the document and asks the witness, the witness thinks that the document is objective and correct because of the public confidence in the prosecutor, and he just answered positively, saying that the prosecutor's evidence would fit the question, but his positive answer eventually became very unfavorable to defendant, Lee Jae-myung
The prosecution mixes the official document that Mayor Lee approved with the official document that did not get any approval. It was created by forging a new document by weaving the inner papers of the document dated December 24, 2014 on the document cover dated December 2, 2014.
The prosecutor presented this document during Choi's interrogation. Moreover, he does not show the official document directly, but only presents the blurry TV screen capture of the documents. Choi was deceived by the prosecutor's evil intention, and he made statements as the prosecutor wanted. Thus, the prosecutor secures a perjured statement that the mayor of Seongnam at the time approved the trip document in which Kim was included as an attendee. No other regime, including military dictatorship, has fallen evil like this before.
In this way, the prosecutor office demonized Lee Jae-myung by making him a liar in court room and all through News media by the perjury of changing the cover of document document presented at the court room. If the prosecutor office is this evil , how about the rest of the Lee Jae-myung cases investigation? The Democratic Party has so many such cases of which they have sorted them to be organized by the type of the perjury method.
First, the prosecution falsified statements in the investigation. A case in that perspective, was the illegal intimidation of then deputy governor, Lee Hwa-young.
In this regard, important facts have recently been revealed. A week ago, the Democratic Party of Korea asked for an interview with jailed Lee Hwa-young but was rejected. The prosecutor office gave the reason that he could not be interviewed because there was a separate investigation on him, but the separate investigation was never done. It's been a week, but I can't tell you what it is. I have been blocked my mouth by the prosecutor office.
And the detention center, where Lee Hwa-young is jailed at the time, announced that they had lost the record of Lee Hwa-young's prosecutor office appearance, but reversed the previous announcement today, saying that it had never been lost. After this process, the record of Lee Hwa-young's prosecutor office appearance was released today.
During the time of prosecutor perjury processes, as we suspected, the attendance records were concentrated, and the duration time was also significantly longer, ranging from 8 to 10 hours. In addition, the number of appearances and records prepared markedly, there was a discrepancy. So, it is common for an inmate's appearance to be written in a record whenever he goes to the prosecutor office, but he went to the prosecutor office a lot, but his appearances do not have any record.
Then what did they do instead of writing a record? Did they drink together at their office? Did they appease him? Also, the prosecutor office is suspected of coaxing Lee Hwa-young through a prosecutor-turned-lawyer, but there was no record of Lee Hwa-young appearing at the prosecutor office whenever those lawyers met him. In other words, the prosecutor office coordinated the lawyer to coax him. These circumstances support the prosecution's perjuring of statements related to Lee Jae-myoung trial cases..
Second, the prosecutor office perjured the evidence. Representatively, the phone conversation transcript was perjured as a senior citizen in Wirae New Town related conversation. Third is investigation falsification, fourth is evidence record perjury, and fifth is the fact perjury.
We announce the perjury by type. Representative Min Young-bae explained this as follows.
"We never told you that we would conduct an independent counsel investigation on the case of Cho Kuk fucker, but some Nazi propaganda media distorted the fact, as if the independent counsel will look into such a case again, but it is not at all. What we are trying to see is that in this series of cases or in the course of prosecutorial investigations, the prosecution will cover up and perjure the truth on Mayor Lee Jae-myung cases, and thus we are proposing an independent counsel targeting prosecutor office's perjury activities."
So, some Nazi propaganda media outlets are saying that the Democratic Party will also look into Cho Kuk case , and the Democratic Party won the election by a landslide gap and do all these with the armbands. We are saying that we will not do an independent counsel on a case-by-case basis, but that we collect cases of projector office perjury cases all togatehr and make them all in an independent counsel case. The so-called special prosecutor office perjury case will be pursued at once. Before that, we will attach the cases of perjury corresponding to the five types of perjury mentioned above
Now, let me summarize all.
Today, the press conference held by Democratic puts the prosecutor office in a panic by breaking out document evidence perjury done by projector office. Currently, prosecutor office's internal informants are souring to the Democratic Party.
The reason is that the Yoon Suk Yeol is soiling the some remnant pride of the prosecutor office, some prosecutors are trying to survive on their owndespite all these. Today, the Yoon Suk Yeol replaced Song Kyung-ho, the head of the Seoul Central District Prosecutors' Office, who pushed for the investigation of Kim Gun-hee, former call girl spouse of the president and the first to fourth deputy prosecutors under him, and also replaced a large number of staff members of the Supreme Prosecutors' Office of Prosecutor General Lee Won-seok.
On the surface, it seems that those prosecutors are promoted to the posts of senior prosecutor, but its interpretation is that they are demoted and that kind of interpretation is prevailing. One of senior prosecutors under him were also sent to one post like at the Legal Research and Training Institute.
In addition, the Yoon Suk Yeol today fired several subordinates of Prosecutor General Lee Won-seok, Han's best friend. With Lee's tenure only four months away, the firing of senior prosecutor general's staff, senior prosecutors' staff, is the reason why this HR changes are quite unusual. The prosecutor general would naturally be replaced if the prosecutor general's term expires, but with only four months left in his term, Yoon changed HR under him in advance. Yoon wants to fire Prosecutor General Lee Won-seok right away, but he couldn't, but sent him and his clan a message of do nothing and leave the office quietly.
Even so, their feud is a lot different from what we think. So, instead of confiscating or investigating Kim Gun-hee, let's just do a summons show and protect the remnant pride of the prosecutor office and that's Han Dong-hoon line's idea, but the Yoon Suk Yeol turned the tables, saying that even that's never possible.
In the end, Han Dong-hoon line, those who wanted to pretend to be fair but ignorant and unfair Yoon Sung-yeol turned table upside and they would not just step down without chirping. Therefore, the prosecutor's civil war situation has begun, and in that civil war situation, the inform of harming President Yoon Suk Yeol are pouring into the Democratic Party.
I'Today's Yoon Suk Yeol seems to have taken over the prosecutor office with the new prosecutor appointments, but there are rebelling prosecutors who wants to fight back by informing to the Democratic through Han Dong-hoon. Yoon Suk Yeol will collapse simultaneously inside out .
[Music]
Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NpoxeTb1E-g
https://www.newsis.com/view/?id=NISX20240513_0002733472

Link to original nosleep post:
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/1b5iszd/my_wife_and_i_got_cast_in_a_reality_show_pilot/
I had just wrapped work on a Friday night, when my wife, Cara, first told me about the ad.
"I don't know how long I can work for this guy anymore." I said to her, closing my laptop for the weekend.
"Alan?" She replied.
"Yeah. He's such a prick. Everything's urgent, and everything's a fire drill. Until he doesn't care about it anymore."
"You know what you should do?"
"What?"
"Kick his ass."
"I wish. But you know full well that I don't have a threatening bone in my body. I'm a lover not a fighter." I said with a wink.
"Oh, that reminds me! Speaking of lovers." My wife said with a smile, pulling out her phone. "Look at this."
Taking the phone from her hand, I saw that she had saved a job posting.
"New Reality Series Seeks Married Couples For Chance To Win Once In A Lifetime Prize."
At first, I scoffed at it. Having been happily married for a few years now, and both of us gainfully employed, I was pretty confident that neither my wife nor I sought money or fame. We already had everything a couple could ever want.
"Why would we ever go on a reality show?" I asked.
"Keep reading," Cara replied, pointing to the bottom of the posting.
I did as she suggested.
"The winning couple will receive a once in a lifetime chance to work with one of the best fertility doctors in the world, to aid them in having a child."
Okay, maybe we didn't quite have everything a couple could want.
I looked at my wife. "Enticing, yes. But I mean, what are the chances we'd actually get cast?"
"Hey, you can't win if you don't play, right?" Cara replied, "And what other choice do we have?"
She had a point. We'd been trying to conceive for a few years, but no matter the approach, whether natural, IUI, or IVF, you name it, the outcome was always the same.
It was the one thing we didn't have. The one thing, save for surrogacy or adoption, that money couldn't buy...
...Having a child of our own.
And so...
...The next day, we reached out to the production company's nondescript email address...
...A couple days later, we heard back...
...And a week later, we found ourselves on a video call with a casting director, attempting to sell her on why they should choose us as one of the five couples competing in their pilot, and why we deserved the prize.
But my wife and I both left the meeting thinking we botched it, each of us walking away with the same feeling that one gets after a flubbed job interview.
And so, we both resolved to go back to our lives. Back to being realistic about the situation. And even started looking into some adoption agencies.
That is, until a week later, when Cara and I received an email from the production company...
...Informing us that we were selected to participate in the reality show pilot!
A few signed contracts, NDAs, and talent release forms later, and my wife and I were off on an all-expense paid trip to Los Angeles.
I remember pulling into the parking lot of the production studio that first day, and finding it a bit strange that a TV show would be filmed in such a rundown, dilapidated warehouse. But I knew nothing about production, and chalked it up to budgetary constraints. And, after all, we had already traveled too far, and there was too much on the line, to turn back now.
Upon entering the building's lobby, we were immediately welcomed in by the show's producer, Phil, whose warm greeting through his medical mask, quickly turned sour, "You're late! Literally the last couple to arrive! Hurry, hurry! Follow me! We're about to start!"
I thought it a bit rude, and noticed a concerned look wash over Cara's face. But then I remembered it was our fault, after all, that we underestimated LA traffic, so I bit my tongue.
Phil then confiscated both of our cell phones, before escorting us out of the lobby, down a long hallway, around a corner, and into a massive lounge, lit by professional lights, with five couches scattered about. Four of which were occupied by other couples, who were sitting there, patiently waiting, when we finally entered the room.
"So sorry!" I called out to them, while simultaneously waving "Hello," as I sat down in one of the loveseats.
"Thanks for your patience!" Cara added, as she took a seat beside me.
But our peers and competitors didn't even have a chance to react, as Phil suddenly ran into the room with a similarly masked production crew of about ten individuals, and got right down to business.
I thought it strange that they were all masked, assuming that covid regulations had long ended, but before I could dwell on the details too much, Phil yelled out, "Alright, places people! Sound!"
"Speed!" A few masked sound guys yelled back, as they hit record on their audio devices and aimed their boom microphones at the front of the room.
"Camera!" Phil continued.
"Speeding!" Several masked camera men replied, in unison, each carrying a broadcast camera on their shoulder.
"Slate!" Phil added, as a masked production assistant ran up to the front of the room, where there was a set of two doors on the far wall, and a door to the side that must have led offstage. He then opened his clapboard, for all of the cameras and microphones to see and hear.
I wondered why they hadn't filled out the section on the clapboard where the first take would go, but my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of it clapping.
CLAP!
Then Phil gestured to what must have been the director, who was hanging back in the shadows, his features hidden in the dark, outside of the set's bright lights.
"Action!" The director yelled out for all to hear.
And then...
...There was silence.
All of us couples looked at each other with a smile, literally on the edge of our seats, when suddenly, we heard the voice of a middle aged man ring out over the speakers that had been mounted to the ceiling of the lounge. "Ladies and gentlemen! Who's excited to make history?"
The cameras turned to the ten participants, including Cara and myself, and we all immediately started clapping and whistling, before they turned back to the man.
"I'm your anonymous host, four time husband, and five time divorcee!"
The group erupted in laughter, cheering him on, as they looked up at the speakers.
"And you know what? I'm not proud of that. Cause, much like you, deep down inside, I want to love and be loved. To have the fortitude, the patience, and the will to fight on through good times and bad, all in the name of love. Which is why I've brought you all here. Yes, you! Give yourselves a round of applause!" He said, before pausing to allow us all to react.
And so we did, all the couples clapping and smiling.
"Yes, I'm here, hosting and watching remotely, to learn from the five happily married couples before us, what the secret is to persevering through the challenges that life throws our way. To see what ends you'll all go to in support of your marriage, and if you'll do... anything for love. Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome... to Anything For Love."
Everyone let out a nervous laugh, but kept applauding anyway.
"And now... it's time for the rules. In this reality competition, the first of its kind, you'll be split up into two groups, five men and five women, and separated from each other for the duration of the game. Over the course of the show, both teams will compete in four challenges, with each challenge resulting in one loser, who will be promptly eliminated. At the end of the game, the winning player from each team will be revealed. If those two players are not members of the same couple, then no one wins. But if those two players happen to be members of the same couple, they win the game, and a once in a lifetime prize... The chance to work with one of the best fertility doctors in the world, to aid them in having a child. So before we begin, let me ask you this... Are you prepared to do anything for love?"
His voice blasted out from the speakers with so much enthusiasm, and so much energy, that in that moment, every single one of us hopped up out of our seats, and began cheering and clapping.
Eventually, the applause faded, and our host continued, "Now, will the men please line up on the left side of the room, and the women on the right?"
The couples did exactly as he asked, and when we had finally split up into two groups, men and women, our host simply said. "Now goodluck! And I can't wait to see who makes it to the end!"
Suddenly, the two doors at the front of the room opened, and each group was escorted by a masked production assistant through one of the doors, separating the husbands from the wives, until that fateful moment at the end of the show, when only the two winners will be reunited.
For the first couple games, I didn't know where they took the wives, or what kind of challenges my own wife was facing. All I knew were the games they presented to us husbands.
Games that were, let's just say...
...Utterly fucked.
As all five men entered the room for the first game, we all saw before us, a massive open factory space, that had been adorned with only one simple piece of art direction at its center... a small wooden table.
"Will the contestants please make their way to the table." The host called out over this room's ceiling-mounted speakers.
We did as he said, as the masked camera crew followed us to the center of the room.
"The rules of game one are simple. In marriage, you must sometimes sacrifice a piece of yourself, for the greater good. Today, that sacrifice... is your wedding ring. But not just your wedding ring... your entire ring finger!"
The five guys and myself all turned to one another and chuckled, assuming he was kidding.
But suddenly, a door opened into the factory, and a masked crew member proceeded to walk over to the table holding a steak knife.
He didn't say anything, and simply stared at us through his mask, as the host continued.
"The last person to cut their finger off, or the first to give up, is the loser. And will be promptly escorted from the premises."
What the fuck. I thought to myself, realizing the host wasn't kidding.
"Wait a minute," a few of the men mumbled.
But one of them, the most obnoxious in the group, could not have been less afraid, puffing out his chest and yelling into a camera, "Fine! I'll go first. I aint afraid."
He then slammed his hand down on the table, clenching his fist in a way that only exposed his ring finger.
There was a brief moment of silence until...
...Suddenly the masked crew member grabbed the husband's hand and brought down his blade so hard, that it cut the man's finger clean off, blood spraying all over the table.
It took the arrogant man a moment to process what had just happened, before he started screaming in pain, a scream that turned into a maniacal laugh, as medical staff ran over to tend to his wound.
Meanwhile, the rest of us guys looked on in horror, as we saw blood pouring from his hand, and realized we were next.
The wounded husband then looked directly into one of the cameras and defiantly said, "That was nothing." Before turning back to us and asking, "Come on. Who's next fellas?"
Two more of the men begrudgingly followed suit, each of their ring fingers being severed from their hands, leaving just myself and one husband left.
We were both shaking in fear, but the other guy was terrified, that he started begging the producer for a way out. "Wait you can't be serious? We really need to do that? Please. Please don't make me.
"The show is called Anything For Love." Phil replied. "And you signed paperwork that warned you things like this would come up."
"I didn't read that!" The nervous man yelled back.
But before he even had a chance to consider participating, I must have accidentally leaned on the table with my hand.
"Wait!" The nervous man yelled out...
...But it was too late. Before either he or I noticed, the masked man had already amputated my ring finger, blood spraying everywhere, as I let out a great scream that echoed throughout the factory.
And as the medical staff ran over to me, just as they had done for the others who had gone before me, I heard the host's voice on the speakers again. "Congratulations, gentlemen! Four of you have shown that you'll do anything for love. While the fifth, did not have what it takes, and must now return home."
And like that, a couple masked production assistants grabbed the nervous man by the shoulders, and escorted him out of the room.
It was in the aftermath of that first game, that I realized the title of the show, "Anything For Love," was not just a play on words, but the literal description of what we would need to do to win.
And then, the host continued.
"Will the remaining four husbands please walk through the open door, and into the next room."
We did as he asked.
On the way there, I looked down at my missing finger, its stump wrapped in gauze, and couldn't help but wonder if Cara had also been forced to make the same choice, and if she had gone through with it.
When we entered the second room, we all saw another giant warehouse space. Except this time, instead of being sparse, it was completely overgrown with shrubs of thorny vines, separating where we stood, from the other side.
"Love is both a rose, but also has thorns." The host called out over the room's speakers. "It can make you feel euphoric pleasure, but at the same time extreme pain. In game two, you'll need to prove that you can overcome that pain to get to the other side, and make it to game three. The last person to crawl through the thorns, or the first person to give up, will be promptly eliminated from the show and removed from the premises. Will you do anything for love? The game starts... now."
The four husbands all looked at each other, then back at the thorns, then back at each other, before the arrogant man, who was standing beside me, made me a proposition. "Let's team up. If we follow the same path, we can take turns, one of us pushing forward for a while, then the other, and it'll save us half the pain.”
But I didn't like the idea of cheating, or supporting such an asshole, so I politely declined. "Sorry man."
"Fine, have it your way, idiot. I don't need your help, I was just trying to help him out." The arrogant man said to one of the cameras, before he turned around and charged into the thorns.
The rest of us husbands, including myself, still in shock from what had happened in the first game and clenching our wounded hands, looked at each other, and then back at the production crew. But a group of them were standing behind us, ready to push us into the thorns, should we decide not to comply.
So we all proceeded to follow the arrogant husband into the thorns, and began a race, through what felt like a football field's length of sharp vines, each of us doing our best to avoid what we could, but inevitably getting scratched over and over and over again, to the point where our bodies were covered in blood.
And when I finally crossed the finish line, and stepped out of the thorny shrubs bloody and exhausted, I was relieved to find that only two husbands had beat me there. The arrogant man, of course, and another.
We all looked back, to find the fourth pour soul still halfway through the shrubs, his clothes caught in the thorns.
"Wait for me!" He called out. But it was too late.
"Congratulations, winners!" The host's voice called out over the speakers. "You've proven you would truly do anything for love, and can proceed on to the next game. And as for the loser, please remove him from the game."
Then, a couple crew members wearing rubber suits and carrying shears, cut their way through the thorns, freed the fourth husband from the thorns, and escorted him out of the factory.
As the three remaining husbands left the second room and entered the third, my thoughts once again returned to my wife, and wondered whether she too was faced with the same challenge, and had made it through the thorns.
Game three is where things... escalated.
When we entered the next factory, I saw three beds in the center of the room, each with a TV next to it.
"Remaining contestants, welcome to the semi final challenge." The host bellowed out over the room's speakers. "Will you each please choose a bed."
The three of us did as he asked, and walked to the center of the room, each of us standing in front of one the beds.
Then, a door opened and three masked women emerged, making their way to the center of the room, and each lying down on one of the beds.
"The rules of game three are as follows." He continued. "You simply have to sex with the stranger before you..."
The arrogant husband looked at me and smiled.
"...While watching your partner do the same."
Suddenly, the three TVs turned on, each displaying our wives in the very same situation. And lying on each of their beds, was a masked man.
"First off, we assure you that the women and men before you complied consensually, and have been tested for STDs. So the test of this game is not about morality, or safety, but fidelity. Would you cheat on your significant other, for the greater good of the relationship? The last couple to have sex, or the first to refuse, will lose. While the others, will proceed on to the final challenge."
I looked at my wife on the TV screen, relieved that she had made it this far, but started in shaking fear of what we both have to do to win.
Meanwhile, the arrogant husband started unclipping his belt button and turned to one of the cameras. "You call this a semi final? My wife and I are in an open relationship. Bring it on!"
While the third man, simply stared at his TV screen, sweating and pacing, clearly terrified to go through with it, and watch his wife do the same.
"The game begins... now!” The host called out.
As the arrogant man began to have sex with the woman on his bed, his naked body still littered with fresh scratches from the thorns, I thought about trying to escape, but then I saw the timid husband, and realized his hesitation was an opportunity for me to make it to the next round.
And so, I too removed my clothes and exposed my wounded body, crawling into bed with the masked woman, as my wife did the same with the masked man.
Before long, it was over, the arrogant man laying there naked and smiling into one of the cameras, while I, also naked, hung my head in shame for what I had just done.
I looked at the TV screen, and saw my wife put her clothes back on too. We had both made it.
The same could not be said for the nervous man and his wife, who both stayed true to their values, neither engaging in the act, before masked crew members promptly escorted them out of the factory.
And then there were two. Well, two couples that is. Myself against the arrogant man, my wife against his.
Masked production assistants then brought myself and my competitor into the room where the final challenge would be held.
It, much like the first room, was completely bare save for a dinner table at its center, where two plates and sets of utensils were set out.
"Finalists. Welcome to the fourth and last challenge. Will both contestants please take a seat at the dinner table."
We followed his instructions, as we had done previously, and sat down at the table, before a couple production assistants ran over and helped us tuck bibs into our shirts.
"The rules of game four are perhaps the most simple of all. You'll be presented with an item that you must eat. The first to finish eating it, is the winner." The host said over the room's speakers.
That's when a door opened and two masked PAs came out holding trays, and began rushing them over to us.
As they approached us, I began to panic, knowing that whatever it was that they were about to present to us, would likely even be more terrifying than anything we had encountered in the previous games.
"Sometimes you have to break a heart, to win another." The host called out, "In this challenge, the item you'll need to eat is..."
At that exact moment, the two PAs each removed a pair of tongs from their pocket, uncovered their tray, and placed the item on our plates.
"...A human heart."
I gasped, and nearly threw up in my mouth, as I saw the disgusting bloody organ lying there on my plate.
"May the best husband win! Goodluck, the game starts... now!"
For a minute, I hesitated, disgusted by the challenge set before me, but then I thought about what was on the line, and saw the arrogant husband immediately biting into his heart, blood pouring down his face.
I hurried to catch up, briefly fumbling my own heart, before chomping into it, and attempting to eat it as fast as I could, as blood sprayed all over my own face.
But the arrogant husband had gotten a head start, and was moving too quickly. No matter how fast I ate it, it was becoming clear that if nothing was done, he would surely beat me..
So, not knowing what else to do…
…I slammed what was left of my heart onto the plate, removed my bib, stood up, and proceeded to tackle the arrogant man out of his seat, sending his heart sliding across the concrete floor.
"What the fuck are you doing, man?" He asked, likely surprised that I was capable of such an act.
"I'm doing what needs to be done for love." I replied, before pummeling him over and over in the face with my fist, as I channeled my innermost frustrations, ranging from the traumatic experience we had just gone through, the arrogant husband’s obnoxious behavior throughout the game, years of belittlement from asshole boss, and my wife and my countless failed attempts at getting pregnant over the years.
I kept pummeling him, until he had completely shut the fuck up, and was simply mumbling incoherent words, his face a bloody pulp, blood bubbling out of his mouth.
I then stood up, walked back to the table, sat down, put the bib back on, and took the last bite of my heart.
"Congratulations, you’ve proved that you'll truly do anything for love, and have won the show! Please remove the loser."
Rather than celebrate, my mind once again returned to my wife, worried about her well being and wondering if she too, had mustered up the courage to eat the heart, and had become the winning wife.
A couple masked production assitants then ran over and dragged the arrogant husband away, as he simply stared at me in shock.
I looked down at my hands, which were still covered in blood, then up at one of the cameras, which was now right up in my face.
“How do you feel?” Phil asked, prompting me to speak to the camera.
But I couldn’t bring myself to speak any words.
I tried to think of something to say, but before I could, a door opened, and the masked PAs grabbed me by the arms and escorted me out of the last room and into an adjacent hallway, which led to a huge set of double doors.
"Winners,” the host said over the hallway’s speakers. “You stand here before us, victorious, each of you on one side of the doors. Now it is time, to find out if the person on the other side… is your partner… and if you both had what it takes, to do anything for love."
I took a deep breath, expecting the worst. Expecting to see the arrogant man’s wife on the other side. After all that.
But when the doors opened, I simply saw…
...My wife, standing there on the other side.
We ran to each other and embraced, both of us missing our ring fingers, littered in scratches, emotionally exhausted, and with faces and hands that were covered in blood.
"Congratulations!" The host continued, "You're the winners of Anything for Love!"
Both crying, we smiled at each other, but our smiles quickly turned into looks of sadness.
We'd won. But at what cost? I wondered, before the thought was overshadowed by that of the once in a lifetime prize that awaited us.
The producer, Phil, then brought us into yet another room, where we met a doctor, his face covered by a surgical mask, and both shook his hand.
"When you two showed up late,” Phil began, “I never thought you'd be the ones to win. But you did. So we stand by our promise. After you return home, you’ll be contacted by the doctor, who will provide you with the guidance and resources to hopefully have a baby of your own. That part, is obviously not guaranteed."
"Thank you." My wife replied, clearly torn by saying those words. “Understood.”
"Thank you." I added, also torn, before realizing that the camera crew didn't follow us into the room with the doctor. "But can I ask, why aren't you filming this part?"
"Oh, our audience only cares about watching the games." Phil replied with a chuckle.
"Audience? But we just filmed it."
"Oh, yeah we were livestreaming the whole time."
"I thought it was just a pilot. Who was watching?"
"The subscribers."
"Who are they?"
"A very small, very privileged group of people, who can't be bothered by pedestrian entertainment. They desire something more... elevated."
"Will this ever be a real show?"
"This? Of course not." Phil laughed, "No one else will ever watch this again. And no one but the small group of contestants and this crew, will ever know of what went on here."
"What happened to the other couples?"
"Oh they're fine. Aside from missing fingers, and being a little physically and emotionally scratched up. We'll do with them exactly what we'll do with you. Drop them off somewhere just far enough away that after we give them their phones back, if they choose to call the police or tell anyone about this place, by the time they come here to investigate, they'll find this factory abandoned, without a trace of what went on here today. The same goes for you. By the way, we better get you ready to go, your car will be arriving any minute now.”
Neither my wife nor myself had the energy to conjure up a reply.
"Thank you again for playing!" Phil said through his mask, "And on behalf of the subscribers, please enjoy your prize!"
He then led us out down a long hallway, through a back door, and into an alley, where a car was waiting to take us away.
"The chauffeur will provide you with your phones upon your arrival."
An hour or so later, the driver pulled over on the side of a highway, and let us off, handing us our phones just as Phil had promised.
But rather than call the police, we just stood there for a while, still horrified by the terrifying experience we had just been put through.
And ultimately… we decided that since we had won, it'd be best to leave it alone.
We hitched a ride back home, and sure enough, about a week later...
...We received a call from the doctor...
...And less than a year after that, my wife gave birth to our baby boy.
Sometimes, I think back to that day, and the terrible games they set before us, and wonder if my wife and I went too far to win…
...But then I look at my newborn son, and all the doubt, all the shame, all the horror, washes away.
And as for the subscribers. Every once in a while, when a car drives suspiciously slow past our house, or I get the feeling that my baby monitor might have just moved on its own, I wonder if they're still watching us, and if this is just the next episode of their reality show.

Link to original nosleep post:
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/1azq8ri/i_was_invited_to_play_the_games_in_the_woods_and/
When I was very young, my grandfather used to always tell me to stay out of the woods behind our house.
"Legend has it, that there's something terrible in there." He'd say, pointing to the trees behind our home with his only arm, the other of which he'd told me he had lost in the war. "And no one who goes in, ever comes back the same."
But I never took his warnings very seriously, given his age, and hard life, writing them off as the ramblings of a senile and bitter old man.
At least until a few years later, when, at the age of ten, I was told by my mother that my grandfather had passed…
...And had left me a parting gift.
It was a crumpled envelope with the word "Bobby" scribbled onto the back, sealed with more tape than an envelope needed sealing.
Inside, was a folded piece of paper, which, upon unfolding, I noticed my grandfather had sketched the layout of what looked like three games.
Beside the first two games, he had written instructions for what looked like how to beat them.
"Don't go in the box."
"Don’t run."
Beside the third, were a couple more notes.
"Don’t lift it alone."
"This is as far as I made it, before I lost my arm."
And at the very bottom of the page, Grandpa had addressed me directly.
"Bobby, if you receive an invitation to play the games in the woods, do not accept it. Run as far away as you can. But in the event you end up there anyway, may these instructions help you finish what I started."
Games in the woods? I thought to myself. After all the warnings, and all the lectures, Grandpa was trying to protect me from games?
I found the whole thing quite silly, and resolved to put it out of my mind.
And so, that's exactly what I did, burying away both the loss of my Grandfather, and the gift that he had left for me, for four long years.
That is, until, at the age of fourteen, when I was a freshman in high school, I received a scroll on my doorstep, tied together with a thorny vine.
After carefully unraveling it, I discovered an invite to the very games that my Grandfather had warned me about, grotesquely handwritten in ink.
"Bobby,
Join us in the forest behind your house tonight, to compete in the games in the woods.
Don't be late. The games will begin promptly at midnight."
I laughed out loud and immediately tore up the scroll on the spot.
But who could be the one pranking me? I wondered. Surely my mom wasn't in on it? Who could have known about the invitation that my Grandfather referenced? Maybe my Uncle Frank? He's always been a jokester. Yes, it must be Uncle Frank.
And on that note, I went about my day, and completely forgot about the scroll.
That is, until later that night, when, while fast asleep, I suddenly felt myself torn from my bed, stuffed into what felt like a canvas satchel, and dragged out my window and, from the sound of it, what must have been through the woods behind my house.
The whole time, I tried my best to kick and scream…
"This isn't funny, Uncle Frank! I know what you're up to!"
...But Uncle Frank, or so I thought, was much too strong to break free from, and the next thing I knew, I found myself dropped into the middle of the forest, and my satchel ripped away.
"Uncle Frank?" I called out, unable to see my surroundings in the dark.
Until my eyes adjusted, and I looked up to find a hooded figure, wearing a tattered brown cloak and holding a burning torch that illuminated everything around him, save for what lay under his shadowy hood.
What the heck? I thought to myself. That's not Uncle Frank.
The shrouded man said no words, and simply pointed to a footbridge, lit by torchlight, not far away, and gestured for me to cross it.
Realizing now that this wasn't Uncle Frank's doing, and in turn, that the letter, and my Grandfather's warning, must both be real, I began shaking in fear and, not knowing what else to do, obeyed the hooded figure's order.
When I got to the other side, I found myself surrounded by what must have been twenty of the hooded man's kin, all holding torches, and encircling a glen in the forest, where the moon and the stars could now be seen in the night sky.
And in the center of the glen, were four poor souls. Kids like me, who must have also received the invitation, or been dragged here against their will, or both. Kids, from my high school, that I recognized.
There was Brad Ashworth, our class valedictorian, in a sweater vest, khakis, and boots, clearly prepared for the occasion…
...Caitlin Sullivan, whom many kids called a nerd, geek, dweeb, and weirdo, but whom I found to be perfectly normal, wearing a pair of overalls and round, wire frame glasses…
...Colin Richardson, in a running suit, a jock, known for excelling at at least three sports, football, track, and basketball..
...And none other than Milton Dugan, the biggest bully in school, best known for using his sheer size to jam freshmen into lockers, wearing a pair of polka dot pajamas.
"Shut up, loser." He called out to me, noticing the smile on my face when I saw what he was wearing.
"What do you think they are?" Colin asked me, pointing to the hooded figures.
"I have no idea. But I don't think they're friendly." I replied.
Until Caitlin chimed in, "They're Druids, idiots."
"Whatever they are, I'm not scared of them." Brad added.
That's when it hit me.
Who would bring five high school students out into the middle of the woods to teach them a lesson? Well, teachers of course. That must be it! Teachers! Yes, it's teachers under those hoods!
But before I could continue to dwell on my epiphany, we were all suddenly interrupted, by the sound of a loud howl emanating from the forest.
And then…
...An old man with a white beard came hobbling out of the woods, walking stick in one hand, and an object that I couldn’t identify in his other.
It was only when he reached the center of the glen, and stopped just a few feet away from us, that I noticed he was missing something…
...The reflection of light in his eyes.
And upon further observation, it became apparent…
...That he had no eyes at all.
What the? I thought to myself, before gasping, as the old man began to speak.
"Invited ones. You stand before me tonight, under the light of the moon, with a great challenge before you. A challenge that only comes around every seventy-five years. Each of you, were hand picked to play these games tonight, for each of you represent a unique virtue. Five virtues put to the same test, to see which will overcome all others. The winner, will be awarded the greatest prize of all. While the losers, will pay a heavy price."
The other four kids and I turned to each other with looks of confusion, then turned back to the old man, who continued.
"But before we begin. Which of you, knows for a fact, that you are the best player among us? Which of you, is so brave, so courageous, so sure of your abilities, that you'll volunteer to step into the box?" He asked, pointing to an area of the glen, that had been covered in darkness, but until the Druids lit it with torchlight.
It was a wooden box, about the size of a telephone booth, completely enclosed with what appeared to be a door on one side and a metal latch to open it.
The Box! I thought to myself, remembering my Grandfather's letter, outlining three games, and assuming the first of which was this one.
"Don't go in the box.”
Easy enough. I mused, looking over at the other kids, waiting for one of them to heed the call instead, until…
"It's me. I'm the smartest, and the most talented one here. I'll do it." Brad called out, raising his hand, before turning back to us, "Cowards."
"Very well," The old man replied, walking over to the box, opening the door, and gesturing for him to enter.
And so he did.
Oh no. I thought to myself, as all of us kids cringed in anticipation of something unspeakable happening inside.
But after a minute, the old man simply walked back over to the door, opened it, and let Brad out.
He came proudly walking out of it, chest in the air, with a smug smile on his face, and belted out the words. "See! Nothing to fear, fraidy cats."
Despite his obnoxious comment, we all let out a sigh of relief.
Until suddenly, a few of the druids grabbed Brad by the arms, and pinned him to the box.
"What's going on? What are you doing?" Our valedictorian cried out, unsure of what exactly was happening.
The hooded men proceeded to pry open his jaws with their hands, as the old man hobbled over to him, revealing the object in his hand… a sharp, silver sword.
But before any of us could react, the old druid had already reached into Brad's mouth, cut off his tongue, and held it up for all to see.
Brad began crying and wailing, blood spraying from his mouth, as the druids let him go and he fell to the ground, arms flailing in pain.
Meanwhile, the rest of us kids just stood there, wide eyed in fear, unable to comprehend what we had just seen.
"That was Game One." The old man called out to us. "Let it be a lesson, that your greatest strengths can also be your greatest weaknesses. In this case, confidence begets arrogance. Now, take him away."
Upon his command, two druids ran over to Brad, who was now passed out, picked him up, and carried him away into the woods.
"Let's move on to Game Two, shall we?" The eyeless old man continued, leading us, and the other druids, out of the glen, into the forest, down a torchlit path, and to a massive field, illuminated by the moonlight.
He then took his staff, stuck it into the ground, and carved a long line in the dirt.
"Will the remaining players please stand behind the line."
Still in shock from what had just happened, we all obeyed his command, lining up before the line in the dirt, which separated us from the football field sized lawn.
"Are you gonna hurt one of us again?" Milton called out, puffing out his chest. "Cause I'm not afraid of you guys, and I’m fully capable of defending myself!"
The old man ignored his rant, and continued on with his own, "The rules of the second game are simple. When I say go, you're to run with the wolves."
"Wolves?" Caitlin whispered to me, trying to understand he meant.
Just then, a group of druids emerged from the forest, leading four ravenous wolves on leashes to the field behind us, each of them drooling at the mouth while howling and growling at us maniacally.
Caitlin and I shared a brief look of horror, before the eyeless man stepped aside and called out, "Go!"
Colin was the first one to sprint off into the field, followed by Caitlin, and then, what would have been me, but when I began to dart away, something jutted out in front of my legs and tripped me to the ground.
Confused by what had happened, I looked up from the dirt to see Milton hopping over me…
"Sucker!"
...As I realized that it must have been he who had tripped me, and saw the Druids unleash the four wolves.
I hopped up to my feet and attempted to run again, but before they hit the ground, the wolves had already caught up to me.
In that moment, I closed my eyes and braced for the worst, but when I opened them again, I saw that they had run right past me, seemingly in pursuit of the others up ahead.
But as I continued to watch the wolves run away, I noticed that they soon passed Milton too, and then Caitlin, finally making their way to Colin, who was running so fast, that he disappeared into whatever lay beyond the field.
And then, the feral dogs stopped running, just before the end of the field, and began howling and growling again, and they looked down at something below them.
Eventually catching up with the others and making my way to the end of the field, Caitlin, Milton, and myself finally saw what had happened to Colin.
There, at the end of the field, was a great pit, and at the bottom, was the star athlete himself, writhing in pain and begging for our help.
"Help me!" Colin called out, clenching his legs, which must have broken from the fall.
"Does anyone have a rope or anything we can lower down to him?" Caitlin asked.
But the druids had just arrived, and were already lowering one down to Colin.
And by the time they pulled him up, still screaming out in pain, the old eyeless druid had arrived, ready to greet him.
"Why would you put a pit at the end of the race?" Colin screamed, as he lay helpless on the ground.
"You said to run from the wolves."
"I said to run with the wolves, not from them. They mean no harm, just look at your friends here. But you. You got ahead of yourself. And for that, there is a price." The old man warned.
"Price? I already broke my legs." Colin replied.
"Well now, we take them." The eyeless man said ominously, before the druids surrounded Colin and held him down, as another approached him holding a giant scythe, its blade glimmering in the moonlight.
"Wait! No!" He cried out.
But it was too late. In an instant, one of his legs was gone. Severed from his body by the swinging scythe, as blood sprayed everywhere, and Colin screamed in agony.
A second later, I saw Caitlin remove her glasses and wipe the blood from them, before putting them back on and continuing to watch on silently in horror.
"What is wrong with you guys?" Milton called out, clenching his fists and pacing around in a threatening fashion.
For a moment, I thought about cursing out Milton for tripping me, but then I realized he had actually saved me.
And that's when I remembered my Grandfather's second clue.
"Don't run."
He was right again.
"Take him away." The old man said for a second time, as a group of druids walked over and proceeded to carry Colin off into the woods, before turning to Milton, Caitlin, and myself.
"And now for Game Three."
He then led us back into the forest, and down a rocky path that hugged a winding stream.
At the end of the path, we came to a clearing between the trees, where we saw two giant boulders, each nearly the size of a person, placed side by side on the ground.
"For this game, you have an option. Lift a boulder yourself, or pick a teammate to help you lift it. The person or team who holds it the longest, wins. And the one who's first to drop it, loses. Understand?"
Milton, Caitlin, and I all looked at each other for a moment, as we weighed the options.
But suddenly, I remembered my Grandfather’s third instruction.
"Don’t lift it alone."
And before Milton could utter a word, I ran over to Caitlin.
"Caitlin and I will be a team." I declared, as she smiled, and put her arm around my shoulder.
"But what about me?" Milton asked, offended by being the odd man out, before correcting himself. "Actually, you know what? Fine! I'm stronger than both of you combined anyway. This will be your own undoing, dorks! I'll compete by myself."
"Very well," the old man called out, as he stood between the two stones. "When I say go, lift the boulders up off the ground, for as long as you can."
Caitlin and I crouched down and gripped the boulder from below, then looked at each other.
"We got this." I assured her with a smile.
"We got this." She replied, smiling back.
Meanwhile, Milton was scrambling to grasp onto his boulder, and began begging for more time. "Just a second, I swear. This boulder's heavier on one side and it's just-"
But before he could continue, the old man raised his staff and called out, "Go!" at the top of his lungs.
Caitlin and I carefully and calmly lifted our boulder, and despite its heavy weight, strained ourselves to keep it elevated above the ground.
But Milton was not as lucky. From the very beginning, he was doomed, as he still hadn't secured his grip on the rock when the old man yelled "Go!" and bumbled when he lifted it up, catching it in hands, but in an position that looked much too uncomfortable for him sustain.
And as the stone slowly began to slip out of his arms, Milton looked over at Caitlin and I with a sour face and mumbled, "You screwed me, losers."
"Maybe if you weren't such a dick, Milton, someone might have chosen you." I replied, in an attempt to drive home the reason why he had lost.
Milton tried to think of a clever retort, "You know what, Bobby-" but before he could finish his sentence, it was too late. The stone had fallen to the ground. He stopped what he was saying and looked down at it, a look of fear washing over his face.
And as the druids began to surround him, rather than threaten them like he had in the past, Milton began to cry. "Please don't hurt me! Please, I'll do anything!"
But it was too late. The druids dragged Milton to the stump of a tree and laid his arm down upon it, as another swung an ax high above his head, and brought it slicing down through Milton's arm, leaving him with a stump of his own.
As he saw the blood pouring out of his appendage, Milton began to scream, until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he eventually passed out.
And for a third time, the eyeless old man called out, "Take him away."
Now, only Caitlin and I remained. Together we stood there in silence, arms around each other, as Milton's limp body was carried off into the woods.
"Which brings us to Game Four," the old druid began, "Perhaps the simplest of all. For this game is decided by you and you alone. When I say go, you'll have one minute to come to a decision on who will be the winner, and who will be the loser."
Caitlin replied "Wait-"
But before she could continue, the old man interrupted her, commencing the final game, "Go!"
Caitlin and I huddled together in the woods, as the old man, and the druids, encircled us, waiting for us to come to a consensus.
"Wait, what do we do?" Caitlin whispered.
"I don't know." I whispered back.
"Should we choose both of us as the winners?"
"No, we'd be breaking the rules. He specified a winner and a loser. They'll punish us both. We need to choose one."
"But that means one of us, will suffer the same fate as the others."
"I don't know if we have any other choice.”
"Then how should we decide?"
"I don't know."
"Wait," Caitlin said, as she reached into the pocket of her overalls and removed a coin. "If you're okay with it. A coin toss would be fair. Totally up to chance.”
"It would be fair. Let's do it. But quick." I replied, knowing our minute would soon end.
"Then you choose. Heads or tails." She offered up.
"Okay. Um... heads!" I replied quickly.
And like that, Caitlin held out her fist…
...Dropped the coin…
...Towards the forest floor below…
...Time suddenly slowing…
...As it descended towards the ground…
...Spinning…
...And spinning…
…And spinning…
...Until…
...Thud.
We both crouched down, and saw the result that would seal our fate forever…
…Heads.
I had won.
Caitlin looked up at me, her eyes wide, and her mouth agape, as tears began to roll down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry." I whispered.
"It's okay." She whispered back.
And then…
...The old man spoke.
"Your time is up. What is your decision? Who is the winner, and who is the loser?"
Both Caitlin and my heads hung low, as she began to speak, "I'm the-"
"Winner." I interrupted, as she looked at me, completely surprised by what I had said. "She's the winner, and I'm the loser."
"But Bobby-" She whispered.
"Save yourself. Don't worry about me." I insisted, whispering back to her, as the old man approached us.
"Very well." He said, holding his wrinkled hand out to Caitlin, who accepted it in hers.
And so, he escorted her away, off into the woods, hobbling on his wooden staff, until they disappeared into the night.
And as for me. I… well I was left there in the dark, surrounded by a dozen druids, who slowly closed in on me.
I didn't know what to do so I, accepting my fate, simply closed my eyes and braced for the worst…
...But similar to what had come of the impending doom of the howling wolves...
...Nothing happened.
I opened my eyes, to find one of the druids standing before me.
"Congratulations..." He said, in an ominous voice, "...On winning the games."
"What?" I asked, confused how that could be possible. "I don't understand. I voted for Caitlin to be the winner."
"Yes, you did." He replied, "But humility is the virtue that always wins the games. Your selfless act, sacrificing your own life for that of another's, is why you won."
"And what do I win?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.
"Just as the keeper of the games had stated, the greatest prize of all..." He said, "..Life."
"And what about Caitlin? What will become of her?"
"That is still yet to be decided. But you will find out soon enough."
Any sort of relief that I had felt immediately disappeared, and my heart sank, as I realized that by volunteering my own life to save Caitlin's, I may have actually cost her hers.
"Wait," I called out, "Let me take her place. Please."
But before I could continue, I felt the druids shove a giant canvas satchel over me, just as they'd done earlier that night, before whisking me away into the forest.
They must have knocked me out after that, because when I came to, I found myself back in my bedroom, lying face first on the cold, wooden floor.
The next day at school, I raced to Caitlin's locker, and then her home room, desperately hoping to see her face, hoping to put my mind at ease…
...But she never showed up. That day… or ever again.
And as for Brad, Colin, and Milton, their claims about how they lost their respective body parts, despite being substantiated by me, were all written off by police, parents, and teachers alike as foolish accidents, when no such games were ever found in the woods.
Years later, as my wife and I discuss having a child, I find myself wondering if I'll ever have a grandchild of my own…
...If they, too, will be invited to play the games in the woods, the next time the druids come around…
...And if Caitlin will be one of them.

This was my first Agatha Christie book where I managed to correctly guess who the murderer was, which felt really good! The clue that helped me was Poirot's insistence that the wasp was relevant, leading me to look through the list of everyone's belongings for any small container that could be used to hold a wasp. Later in the story I was also suspicious of Norman's relationship with Jane. He seemed a little too slick, like in the scene where they met or when he agreed with her about everything during a conversation they had. However, it did seem like he had a sincere infatuation with her at the end.
However, Poirot's big reveal of the solution still left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth because I got the method of murder quite wrong. I had actually considered what turned out to be the correct method of murder (stabbing the woman directly with the dart rather than shooting it from a blowpipe) as the most logical course of action for a murderer on an airplane, but I ran into two problems, one of which I think is an actual plot hole.
First of all, it didn't seem like Norman had an opportunity to walk up to the woman and stab her. This problem is later resolved when we learn the murderer disguised himself as a steward to make everyone ignore him, giving him the opportunity. The other issue is that we find the dart lying on the ground beside the murdered woman. I found this problematic because, if the murderer had stabbed the woman with the dart by hand, why wouldn't he take the dart with him afterwards, or throw it out a vent or something? There's only one reason I can think of for why he might just drop it on the ground - he wanted to implicate someone else for the murder. This idea is corroborated by the blowpipe that he planted. In fact, we learn this to be exactly the case by the end of the book; the murderer was indeed trying to implicate Lady Horbury. However, if stabbing directly was the method of murder, and by dropping the dart, Norman was trying to get someone else implicated for the murder, what's with the wasp he released? And why bother changing the feathers on the dart to be yellow and black?
The idea I had was instead that: We know that Norman went to the front of the cabin at one point. The layout of the Prometheus is given to us at the very start of the book, so I could see that there is a door there that might block the passengers' view of him. I thought that he might have held the door slightly open and used a blowgun or some other implement to shoot the dart through the crack. I'm unfamiliar with blowguns, so I'm unsure how feasible this shot would have been. If feasible, this solution would explain the wasp and the change in dart feathers, because the passengers may have seen the dart flying through the air, and if they thought it was just a wasp, they might not think anything of it.
I'm just wondering what all your thoughts are, because I fail to see why the murder would release a wasp, given Ms. Christie's solution.

I recently finished The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen and absolutely loved it. His blend of absurdist comedy and serious rage worked really well, the dude is an amazing writer, and the questions he asks may make you question your entire way of thinking.
Anyways, I wrote an essay (actually a video essay but can't link to that here) about my takeaways from the novel. It's very long so apologies, if you want to watch in video form I'll put it in the comments.

The greatest art makes you question. Question who you are, what you believe. Question the assumptions you make about the world around you. Question the fabric of reality, the nature of being. Question free will or fate. Question systemic influences of behavior, or intrinsic human desires. It does not answer, at least it doesn’t provide easy answers, because in these we find a more shallow understanding of ourselves and of the world’s complexity.
The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen is one of these great pieces of art. Its questions are not concerned with your preexisting notions of the Vietnam War, nor will it dichotomize the opposing sides into good and bad, right and wrong. The complexities of the War are not simplified, and our American-centric perspective is challenged at every turn. If you read closely and mindfully, you may finish the book having examined the very nature of your way of thinking, our collective desire to neatly place thought into ideological boxes that give us an easy position on any issue.
Part 1: A Man of Two Faces
In Viet Than Nguyen’s eyes, the Vietnam War had no “winners”. The communist revolutionaries were victorious, yes, but at what cost? 20 years of brutal, deathly war tore the country apart. Somewhere between two and six million died, between the Viet Cong, South Vietnamese, Laotians, Cambodians, Americans, and Koreans. The country was poisoned, its lands decimated by constant shelling, napalming, and use of pesticides by the US. Not to mention the 2.5 million refugees created by the war, and the hundreds of thousands of civilians that were massacred by all sides.
Nguyen isn’t interested in picking sides in the war. People on each side, he says, perpetrated lies, hypocrisies, failures, stupidities, vile immorality, and corruption. These people may have known what they were doing was immoral, or they may have bought so completely into their respective ideology that they were blinded to their sins. Whatever the case, it was their very ideologies they used to justify their actions.
The story simply presents a story, fictionalized but rooted in truth, and makes you think for yourself. The story’s protagonist, whose name is not revealed so I’ll refer to him as “the narrator”, is a perfect vehicle for the nuanced examination of the Vietnam War that Nguyen wishes to present.
The Narrator is “a sleeper, a spy, a spook, a man of two faces … able to see any issue from both sides.” He is also a “half-breed,” a product of his mother’s rape by a French priest, and a womanizer, alcoholic, misogynist, and a murderer.
But I think Nguyen’s message goes further than simply seeing an issue from “both sides”. There are many sides to any issue, and seeing the world through a false dichotomy not only limits your understanding of its complexity, but if vilifies, or in some cases idealizes, the “other” and distracts your attention from truth. For instance, any US perspective on the war—pro or anti—is ultimately an American perspective that ignores Vietnamese, Cambodian, and Laotian suffering.
The narrator’s split psychology—as a bastard, a revolutionary masquerading as a capitalist, and later, a non-white in the U.S.—mirrors Nguyen’s own experience as a Vietnamese refugee living in America since a boy of 4 years. Nguyen said in a talk with Politics + Prose that as a child, he felt “deeply, intimately American.” But as Nguyen went to college and educated himself, he began to see America through clear eyes. He never felt belonging in America, and when he eventually visited Vietnam as an adult, he felt out of place for a parallel set of reasons.
The story begins just before the Fall (or Liberation, depending on your POV) of Saigon, and during this first act, we also meet three key characters, “blood brothers” who sealed their eternal friendship in blood at 14: the narrator, Bon, and Man, who is the narrator’s handler and main contact within the North Vietnamese army. As the city falls, Bon and the Narrator escape to the US, and much of the story follows their experiences as refugees from the war.
For the sake of concision, I’m going to skip ahead to two plot lines that best illustrate my point—the Narrator’s work on a Hollywood blockbuster about the Vietnam War, and another plotline I won’t reveal yet, as it spoils the last act of the book.
But know that there is so much more to this novel: Nguyen’s expert use of satirical humor, somehow finding the right balance between absurdist comedy and serious rage while he explores the collective trauma of his people brought on by a needless war and its aftermath. One of my favorite instances of satire involves a wild “Oriental Studies” Professor with a fetishistic obsession with all things “Oriental”, including the narrator’s embodiment of the “symbiosis of Orient and Occident,” a statement that causes the narrator to “clear my throat of a sour taste. (p. 65)”. But let’s set aside the satire, and for a moment, focus on the rage.
Part 2: Asian American Rage
In the U.S., The narrator finds work as an “authenticity consultant” on a film called The Hamlet, which bears suspicious resemblance to Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now, but really serves as an allegory for Hollywood in general and how it marginalizes and mocks minorities all while propagandizing America and softening its image, not only to its citizens, but to the world that eagerly consumes its products.
“Movies were America’s way of softening up the rest of the world, Hollywood relentlessly assaulting the mental defenses of audiences with the hit, the smash, the spectacle, the blockbuster, and yes, even the box office bomb. (p. 172)”
The narrator went into the project with good intentions, hoping to promote more respectful and accurate representation of his people, but quickly discovers that, “The longer I worked on the Movie, the more I was convinced that I was not only a technical consultant on an artistic project, but an infiltrator into a work of propaganda.”
If you are rolling your eyes or doubting Nguyen’s criticism, I’d point you to this video, which I’ll link below: The US Government’s Not-So-Secret Propaganda Department. Not only does the Department of Defense pay for and help produce many Hollywood cash-cows—including but not limited to, Captain America, Top Gun, Wonder Woman, Iron Man, King Kong, Jurassic Park, Karate Kid, Godzilla, Indiana Jones, WandaVision, even Call of Duty—they have final say on the script! If they don’t like the way the US Military is portrayed, your movie is simply not allowed to come out. None of this is a secret, people seem to be content living in blissful ignorance.
This subplot, I think, is where Nguyen’s rage burns most fervently. He grew up an American, watched Apocalypse Now, Platoon, and more blatant pro-America propaganda such as Rambo, saw the racist and misrepresentative portrayal of his people, and internalized this anger. “In seeing [the movies], it was clear that the Vietnamese were not seen, they were seen through.”
The Auteur ignores the narrator’s guidance at every turn, and all the narrator manages to achieve in the movie is double-pay ($2 per day instead of $1!) for the less-desirable roles of Viet Cong, and the addition of three speaking roles for Vietnamese—who end up being played by other Southeast Asians rather than actual Vietnamese.
Before shooting the grand finale, the Auteur strokes his ego to the crew, saying that “Long after this war is forgotten, when its existence is a paragraph in a schoolbook students won’t even bother to read, and everyone who survived it is dead, their bodies dust, their memories atoms, their emotions no longer in motion, this work of art will still shine so brightly it will not just be about the war but it will be the war. (p. 178)”
Herein lies the dangerous truth about history. While the Auteur’s claim is objectively absurd, is he wrong? Apocalypse Now is hailed as a classic, the gold standard in war movies. It is anti-war, yes, but how many of us have seen or read the Vietnamese perspective on the war? I admit, until recently, I had not. This is why books like The Sympathizer are so important. “I had no doubt that in the Auteur’s egomaniacal imagination he meant that his work of art, now, was more important than the three or for or six million dead, who composed the real meaning of the war. They cannot represent themselves; they must be represented. (p. 179)”
Part 3: Independence & Freedom
This next portion will spoil the last act of the book, so if you want to avoid that, jump to part 4
The Narrator and Bon are captured on a South Vietnamese scouting mission, thanks to the Narrator’s tipping off of the communists. And here is where the story gets really interesting. I will do my best to relay the complexity of Nguyen’s message, but really, you should read the book, because the way he pulls everything together is miraculous.
We learn that the framing of the Narrator’s “confession”, which has told the entire story to this point, is actually taking place within a North Vietnamese “re-education camp”. We also learn that the Commandant who is reviewing the Narrator’s confession is not pleased with it. The Narrator has written countless versions over the course of one year in solitary confinement, and it’s clear that the Communists see him as a lost cause, a mind infected by capitalist ideals and too much time in America. The Commandant tells him, “you are addicted to the social evils of alcohol, prostitution, and yellow music.”
“Aren’t we all comrades? I asked the commandant at an earlier session. Yes, he said, but not all comrades have the same level of ideological consciousness.”
Luckily, the Narrator has one man within the camp sympathetic to his position as a sleeper agent that has fallen too deep into Western culture. He is a mysterious “faceless man”, flesh burned red and mottled with scars, later revealed to be from a Napalm attack. The prisoners, and even their guards, fear him.
The Narrator finally meets the commissar in his quarters, notices the famous Ho Chi Minh quote, “Nothing is more precious than independence and freedom.” And upon seeing the commissar’s horrific face, “eyes bulging from withered sockets, nostrils reduced to holes without a nose, the hairless, earless skull one massive keloid scar, leaving the head to resemble one of those dried, decapitated trophies swung on a string by an ebullient headhunter,” the Narrator recognizes him. It’s his best friend, his protector, his handler, his comrade, Man.
Guards shove him onto a mattress and tie him down, deprive his sense with a blindfold and ear plugs, but do not let him sleep. The narrator’s subsequent torture is brutal—not physically, but psychologically—and it is made more brutal by the fact that it is his blood brother inflicting the pain.
But Man explains his side of the story; really, truly, he is powerless to free the Narrator. It’s only because of Man that the Narrator and Bon are not dead already. “You frighten [the commandant]. You are nothing but a shadow standing at the mouth of his cave, some strange creature that sees things from two sides. People like you must be purged because you bear the contamination that can destroy the revolution’s purity.”
The Narrator must convince the commandant, as well as the commissars above Man, that the virus of Western sympathy has been eradicated, to have any hope of being released. And so Man must torture him, blast his retinas with bright light, shock him electrically to keep him awake, all in hopes that he will realize what he has forgotten.
As Man continues his torture, begging an answer to the question, “what is more important than independence and freedom?” Eventually, after a long, visceral session of torture, the Narrator realizes the answer to the question: Nothing! Nothing was the answer. “While nothing is more precious than independence and freedom, nothing is also more precious than independence and freedom! These two slogans are almost the same, but not quite. The first inspiring slogan was Ho Chi Minh’s empty suit which he no longer wore. How could he? He was dead. The second slogan was a tricky joke. It was Uncle Ho’s empty suit turned inside out, a sartorial sensation that only a man of two minds, or a man with no face, dared to wear.”
Man is a tragic character, which the narrator fully understands. “…while he was setting me free, he himself could never be free, unable or unwilling to leave this camp except through death, which at least would be a relief from his living death.” He commits evil deeds for the same reason many Nazi SS officers or Christian Crusaders or ISIS terrorists commit evil deeds—because they are so deeply bought into their ideologies that they are convinced that any violence is purely essential to advance the cause. Either that, or the manipulative or terrorizing systems of which they are propping up feel inescapable, and their only option, in their eyes, is to conform to what is expected of them.
It's never explicitly revealed where Man falls in this spectrum. The Narrator speculates that there is madness in his eyes, and certainly his unimaginable trauma of having his flesh melted by napalm contributes to his actions, but ultimately, it does not matter how much of his actions were through his own volition vs. peer pressure. The fact is, the revolutionary ideology that states “Nothing is more precious than independence and freedom,” that any faction who gets in the way of must be stamped out, leaves no room for individual thought. Your options are to conform or to be subject to reeducation or death at speaking your thoughts.
Part 4 – Question Everything
“What do those who struggle against power do when they seize power? What does the revolutionary do when the revolution triumphs? Why do those who call for independence and freedom take away the independence and freedom of others? And is it sane or insane to believe, as so many around us apparently do, in nothing? We can only answer these questions for ourselves.”
These are the questions our Narrator leaves us with in the last couple pages of The Sympathizer. Were you expecting a neatly-wrapped ending? Too bad, life doesn’t have many of those. [John Mulaney - Brush your teeth, now boom! OJ. That’s life.]
I want to come back to the idea of “ideology” that I mentioned in part 1. Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek, a pioneer of this way of thinking of ideology, defines ideology as “the experience we have of our lives from within, the story we tell ourselves about ourselves in order to account for what we are doing.” Ideologies are dangerous, because they eliminate our need to think critically about our actions and beliefs, but they are also unavoidable.
Nguyen presents and dismantles several popular ideologies throughout The Sympathizer: French Colonialism, North Vietnamese Communism, Western Liberalism, Catholicism, US Exceptionalism (or “Disneyland ideology” as he calls it), South Vietnamese nationalistic democracy, consumerism. He points out the hypocrisies in all these ideologies. The fact of the matter is, avoiding hypocrisy in your thinking is nearly impossible. The best option, really, is to be aware of your hypocrisy.
Okay, but if you’re watching and saying, hey, I don’t buy into in all this global capitalist bullshit. I live my life authentically, I reject capitalism completely. Well, by doing this, you are turning to another ideology—anticapitalism. This is where this idea ties back into The Sympathizer. Because, yes, in theory, it is not so bad to be an anticapitalist. In fact, I would call myself one. But you know who else was anticapitalist? Joseph Stalin. Ho Chi Minh. Kim Jong-Un. All the North Vietnamese comrades who tortured and killed for the sake of the revolution. If you buy too deeply into anticapitalism without critical thought, you’ll end up like Man, licked by the napalm of conformity.
The commandant in The Sympathizer replies to the narrator when he says he’s anti-American. “The anti-American includes the American. Don’t you see that the Americans need the anti-American? While it is better to be loved than hated, it is also far better to be hated than ignored. To be anti-American only makes you a reactionary. (p. 319)” This statement holds true for anti-capitalism as well
Zizek goes a step further and says that even those people who think they see the world through eyes unclouded by ideology, who take off the ideological glasses that distort our vision, even they are prone to ideology. To see the world’s truth, you must put on the ideological glasses.
The only way to see that we are being manipulated and propagandized is to recognize the US Army’s fancy weapons and uniforms in the films we see, and understand that means they signed off on this portrayal of them. The only way to see that we are being manipulated to consume through clever design and marketing is to recognize the subliminal messaging and blatant brand placement in the media we consume. The only way to understand how politicians play off our emotions and conditioning to view the other side of the aisle as the enemy is to learn to recognize the tricks they use.
So, none of this is to say you can’t have an ideology. Ideology is unavoidable, anyways. But you have a responsibility to be aware of the hypocrisies and dangers in the beliefs you choose to follow.
“In such times of urgency when we know we have to act, but don’t know how to act, thinking is needed. Maybe we should turn around a little bit. In our new century, we should say that maybe we tried all too fast to change the world. The time has come to step back to interpret it.”
— Slavoj Zizek
Thinking for yourself is hard. It takes brainpower and willpower, and it’s undoubtedly easier to fall back on an ideology that gives you an easy answer for everything. Even in this video essay, I’m pulling heavily from Zizek and Nguyen to illustrate a point; you could say I am using them to think for me. And by the way, this choice is not meant to imply that Nguyen would agree with everything Zizek says; I think, in fact, they would disagree strongly on many ideas. But the central idea in The Sympathizer, I believe, aligns nicely with Zizek’s idea that we live in a world of ideology, where you almost have to pick an ideology to ally yourself with.
So, in true Viet Thanh Nguyen and Slavoj Zizek fashion, I will end this video with a few questions to think about. why do you believe what you believe? Which ideological beliefs do you hold, and what contradictions are inherent in these beliefs? What social structures and norms have shaped your identity?

So this is the first time I’ve ever told anyone about this. I am 23 and I just got my license a month ago but I’ve been driving for the last 8 years. It’s a long story (me being a stubborn idiot) but I went to get my license at 18 like everyone else. Passed my written test with 0 missed and then the day came to take my test and I failed within the first 5 mins all because I “didn’t check the bike lane for anyone” so the instructor insta failed me. This left a sour taste in my mouth for YEARS all because I was stupid.
Anyway now that that’s out of the way, I recently decided I needed to stop being such a dummy and went to get my license (passed written and driven without a problem). “I” also had a 2021 BMW 330i that “I” sold. I am now looking at getting a car that is 100% all in my name but the thing is I was and can comfortably afford a Mustang GT. The one thing that honestly slipped my mind was my possible HIGH insurance payment. I was wondering if anyone knew of anyone else in a situation similar to mine or if anyone had any idea on why my hypothetical payment may be.
I already got quoted from an insurance company called “Infinity” for $430 a month. Is this what I should expect from everywhere else or is this the best I’ll find.

I'm not very experienced in DnD, but it's always been an interest of mine. So, when I entered into a relationship with a DnD super nerd, I finally had an opportunity to feel like I was a part of it. But, as time went on, I realized the table I had joined was kind of... toxic, to say the least.
But, before I dive into that, let me introduce the key players.
First, we have the DM. We'll call him OverLord. He seemed like a decent guy, and was an excellent DM. But he worked long, odd hours and barely had time for his own campaign. He also controlled the discord, and was basically seen as the leader.
Next, his girlfriend, who we'll call Baroness. She wasn't a DnD player, and had little interest in it, but involved herself regardless because she was second in command. The regent of the group, in a way.
Then, there's FireFly. Sassy, dramatic, self centered. Seemed to think he was the main character (in game and IRL).
I also have to mention Cesspool, the rules lawyer.
And of course, Destro. My then boyfriend, now ex.
I also need to warn you that this story is more about the group and its politics than it is about the game.
Most of the group knew each other from college. I met them through Destro, and was made a part of the family after I defended them from an extremely toxic mutual, Major Bludd, who had victimized us all.
For context, Baroness was involved with Major Bludd at one point, but she moved on to OverLord. Major Bludd then wanted her back but she rejected him, so he started harassing her. He also toyed with FireFly. Although the group didn't cut all ties with him, they got sick of his bs and distanced themselves form him for the most part.
Before I met them, Major Bludd told me that the group was manipulative and toxic. That they had lied to make him look bad, and he was actually the victim of their gaslighting and bullying. I believed him for a time, but eventually he strung me along, used, and betrayed me, and it sucked. So, bitter, I reached out to Destro to find out the truth. Then I confronted Major Bludd, and that was how I was inducted into their group.
This group appeared to be the best sort of friends you could hope for. They were generous, involved and caring. But if you dug a little deeper, they were very cliquey.
OverLord and Baroness were put on a pedestal, and they controlled everything, whether it was justified or not. Everything had to happen on their terms, and it seemed they were beyond reproach. The group only played DnD twice in two whole years, because they controlled the schedule and their time was the only time that mattered.
Most of the members were also stinking rich, and it made them both delusional and judgemental — I also got the sense they weaponized generosity. But that's just an observation. Maybe I'm being judgey too.
One weekend, the boys wanted to play a sci fi campaign Baroness and I had no interest in. So we had a girl's weekend instead.
While I was at her place, Major Bludd caused some ripples in the background, probably because he found out Baroness and I were at the same place at the same time and he started freaking out. I'm not sure. So two other group members called us to interrogate us about what he did, so they could take care of the dumpster fire.
Now, the entire time she spoke to the other guys about it, something didn't sit right with me. I got the sense that she was enjoying the drama. She kept emphasizing that she was the most important part of it because she was Major Bludd's "golden toy", and that she was the only one who could ever control him, or get him to simmer down, because she was the center of his universe and the rest of us were powerless. It felt like she was proud of the fact that he was a scumbag to her because it made her important somehow.
She also compared our experiences with Major Bludd in a way that made it seem like I got her sloppy seconds, and that she was somehow more of a victim than anyone else, and that he only hurt me to get to her and a whole bunch of other crap.
There was a time after that I got a message from am obviously fake account, insulting Baroness (and me), and defending Major Bludd up and down. I showed it to Baroness and she got upset that I responded (telling the person to F off) instead of waiting for her to tell me what to say.
Baroness also had a habit of insulting and belittling Destro in backhanded ways, and deriding his standard of living, while constantly praising OverLord, as if to imply I got the short end of the stick.
Fast forward a month or two, and I get to play DnD with the group for the first and only time. It was a blast, but it got derailed by some of the dudes meta gaming for hours and going so far off the tracks the session never recovered.
Baroness tagged along that weekend, even though she wasn't playing. I think she was expecting more attention than she got, so when it wasn't forthcoming, she became... sour — at least towards me.
So, skip ahead again, about a year and a half, and the table finally plans another session.
Destro told me that it was going to be hosted at Baronness's parent's house, and they had set some juvenile ground rules, most importantly a maximum head count.
So OverLord thought it best to only involve the OG players. He apparently apologized profusely, and made it seem like an uncomfortable but necessary decision he had to make to keep the peace.
The problem is that I was the only one who didn't count as such, and so, I was the only one who wasn't invited.
It bugged me a little bit, but I wasn't too offended by it. I just thought it was ridiculous that a group of fully fledged adults were being treated, and behaving, like high schoolers who needed parental permission to play Dungeons and Dragons. It never occurred to them that it didn't have to be hosted there, and that a group of mid 20-30 year olds could surely find a space where their entire table had room.
But of course, no one could question OverLord or Baroness, and the two of them don't know what compromise is.
Anyway, Destro didn't want to go without me and chose to sit it out last minute, even though I assured him I didn't mind.
A few weeks later, FireFly let slip that a new player, one of Baroness's friends no one else knew, had joined them.
So much for OG players only.
So Destro brought it up with Cesspool, who agreed it was a dick move.
We suspect Baroness orchestrated it out of spite, because she was used to being the only rose among the thorns. So, when I joined their table, instead of joining her on the couch for the weekend, it angered her.
All of this might sound like a catfight, but it's aggravating that I was lied to. I was never welcome at the table the second time, but instead of telling me that (or why), they chose to tell petty lies, and cover it up with a lame excuse that I hadn't been with them long enough, only to turn around and invite someone unfamiliar in my place.
Though it could be that FireFly had a hand in it. I'm not sure and have no reason to believe that, but I figured I'd mention the problem between us just in case.
There was a time when Destro and I got into a heated argument over something disgusting (and criminal) he had done and tried to hide from me. FireFly witnessed it and turned against me without second thought, even though I was not in the wrong. Still, I apologized to him and tried to rebuild that bridge, but it wasn't good enough. He decided I was beneath him, and treated me like scum after that.
Maybe he turned others against me, but I don't think so. Cesspool and the other dudes were only ever warm to me.
Now, for the best bit. Skip ahead even further, about 6 months after the pettiness.
Destro hadn't been a good partner at all in the 3 or so years I was with him. And I, sick half to death, burned out, stressed, and struggling with severe panic disorder, had had enough. I don't need to go into detail about what actually happened, but I had my final straw with him, and tried to break up. It escalated into an argument, and then into violence — so severe I couldn't walk, or see out of my right eye because it had filled with blood. Suffice to say I ended up in hospital, and that was the last I ever saw, or ever will see, of him.
After that, Cesspool threatened me with a lawsuit because I mentioned his first name in a Facebook comment on a post about the abuse. I was then promptly removed from their discord, unfriended and blocked by everyone, and that was that.
My experience with these people left a sour taste in my mouth. Their cliquey-ness. Their snoot. Their childish behaviour and dramatics. How disorganized they were (I mean come on, only 2 sessions in 2 years is ludicrous). Their gatekeeping. Their cultish dynamic. It almost put me off playing DnD ever again.
But why let a few rotten apples ruin your love for fresh, home baked, apple pie?
Destro took everything out of me. I won't let him, or his toxic AH friends, ruin the little joys I have.
I'll find my table eventually. And it won't be full of catty losers who side with abusive pieces of shit.