Poem sorry poker

You’d be happy to know that despite my best efforts to label you as the reason I was stressed, I was wrong.
You’d be happy to know I haven’t thought of you in 30 seconds.
You’d be happy to know I broke that streak.
You’d be happy to know that I’m a donor.
You’d be happy to know I haven’t had a cigarette in 109 days.
You’d be happy to know I sleep better.
You’d be happy to know I dream of you more.
You’d be happy to know I cry about her every day.
You’d be happy to know I’ve kept her things for you, just in case.
You’d be happy to know that I don’t look for you in everything like I used to. I see you in everything. You’ve given me an interest in architecture. You’ve given me an idea of what I want my children to be like, how I’d like for them to be raised. With that gentle, caring and compassionate demeanor. The same way you’d raised her. God she was so good, wasn’t she? She was good because you’re so good.
I meant for this to be a poem of sorts, but I’m tired of speaking so vaguely. I’m tired of trying to think of clever little signs to leave you, that only you would understand.
I just want to say how I feel.
It’s hard to believe that someone with so much goodness, just this genuine kindness, can truly exist in such a world. I avoid all of it, because it hurts so much to know that it can be so cruel. But you show it just how much sun there is to shine.
You and her both.
I’ll miss her for the rest of my life.
But I don’t have to miss you forever. You and I can still figure it out.
I hope we do. I hope you’ll visit someday.
I really need your guidance right now. I’m sorry again, that it took me so long to realize what was going on in my head.
It’s funny, how people like me can be mistook the way we are because of how we register social situations. Or like, our inability to register social cues the same way.
I laugh sometimes, about the instances in which I can remember people looking at me funny after I’d talked. LOL.
Good thing I don’t experience embarrassment, eh?
I like myself, regardless of what others honk I am supposed to be. But I’d truly love myself if I never let you go.
How could I be so reactionary? So stupid?
Where was this level headedness when I had you?
I know I keep saying “last one”, but I’ll probably spend a good amount of time writing to you. Even when you’re right next to me, sleeping off the night before.
Forever and always, Yours.

Hi all. I hope it's okay to share this here. I'm new to this whole thing and I just need to let out some thoughts and feelings that have been weighing on me lately. It's been a really difficult year.
Where to start.. Perhaps some context. My partner and I currently live in a small single bedroom studio apartment in the UK. We have just given birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy who has just turned one month this previous Sunday.
11 Months ago, in June, my partner and I suffered a late miscarriage of our son at 18 weeks. It was devastating and heartbreaking, and holding him in my arms was a moment that I will never forget and will weigh heavily on my heart for the rest of my life. Carrying his coffin through the crematorium and reading the poem I wrote him is something I never thought in my life I'd ever have to do. Then, two weeks later, I lost my job. It was due to a mistake on my part, one I'll always hold my hands up and admit to, but the timing of it couldn't have been worse. It stung.. it still stings, because the job market hasn't been kind to me since. Every single day I'm out looking for work, doing odd-jobs here and there to get by but I've been unable to find a new consistent job, and so we're having to rely on government benefits to get by financially.
Fast forward to now.. we've been blessed with a gorgeous baby boy. But with blessing comes challenge. My partner is battling PPD, struggling with her self-image, and feeling lost in herself. She can't walk past a mirror without breaking down and the stress of looking after him alone when it's my turn to sleep causes the same reaction. Our baby boy has colic and so, to ensure we're actually resting, we're currently rotating in shifts to look after him. We tried the standard 8 hours each and that didn't work out for us so now we're rotating in 3 hour shifts. For 3 hours I'll take him, then we'll both look after him together for 3 hours before my partner then takes him for 3- and then so on. Admittedly, we've struggled to stick to that routine but it's definitely working better than the one before.
I've been doing my best to hold everything together. Since we brought him home I've taken the lion's share of responsibilities so my partner can rest and recover from childbirth, as well as have the time she needs to push through her PPD. I usually let her sleep over the 3 hour mark by quite a fair bit and in the beginning the baby was glued to me to allow her to recover. I was more than happy for this and I want it clear that I'm not complaining. I made that choice and I am happy with it. What I'm venting about here is a bit more complicated.
I don't... feel anything with him. I don't have the connection with my son that everyone else seems to have. It's like I'm babysitting a stranger's child. Am I not supposed to have this overwhelming feeling of love and joy? My partner and each of our parents all have this connection with him. They have so much love and pride when they see and hold him and I.. don't. What I feel is instead a sense of responsibility, a paternal desire to protect and keep him safe.. but I don't feel anything else. I'm always told that it's because my partner carried him for 9 months and that our parents have had children before themselves so they know what it's like.. but I can't help but feel guilty and cruel because of it.
And ultimately, I think that's what it boils down to. Guilt. It's eating me up inside. I feel guilty for not feeling what everyone else seems to feel, for not being able to provide financially, for not always knowing what my baby needs. I miss our lost baby every day, and it's hard not to see him when I look at our new baby. It'll be a year since we lost him in a few weeks and it's a painful reminder of what we lost. I'm terrified of being the type of Dad my Father was, I'm terrified that as he grows older he'll resent me because I was unable to provide for him the way I should. I just.. I've always dreamed of being an this amazing Father and an amazing future Husband to my partner and with each day I feel like it's a dream I'll never achieve.
I know that it's supposed to get better. Everyone says it and I don't doubt it.. but it's hard to see that light at the end of the tunnel. One thing I'm incredibly grateful for, though, is how supportive my partner and I have been with each other. Every trial and tribulation has only ever made us stronger and I fall more in love with her every day. Seeing her be the Mum I always knew she'd be.. it makes everything just a little bit easier. I've told her all of this and she's told me her own woes, and we're doing everything we can day by day- and it's for that very reason that I want to do right by them both.
I'm sorry if this post seems out of place or self-indulgent. I just needed to let these thoughts out into the world, to lighten the load even just a little bit. Thanks for listening, Dads. And sorry if this isn't the right place for it. I'm still learning the ropes of this whole new Dad thing.

So uhhhh.... Yeah. I asked for my friend at work who is an avid rock and metal music fan just now on what song should I add to my playlist while I'm listening while working, and he recommended me this song called "A little piece of heaven". And when I heard this came from Avenged and I was like "Ohhh, I've heard this band before." Since I first listened to them and their song "Almost Easy" when I was playing NFS ProStreet. And I love the song ever since. But the rest of the songs, let's just say I'm not really a fan of it (sorry if you read that) except almost easy.
So anyways, I played this song on Youtube and there's a music video accompanied by it and there's a warning. So I asked my friend if this is okay as we watch it on my phone and he was like, "It's a cartoon don't worry." In a poker face smile. And I was, okay... Worryingly.
So we watched it. Not gonna lie, it kinda sounds like Bohemian Rhapsody in a very similar manner of tone... But metal and darker and it's... Cool, to say the least.
But as I listen while I was watching it. I felt the disgust watching it until the very end of it. And my friend smiled and he was like, "so?" And I said, "I... Uh... That's twisted as fuck man. It's like I'm watching Happy Tree Friends all over again and how traumatizing it was when I first discovered it as a kid. Except this time, it's not squirrels"
And then I just can't get out of my head about that last scene where the couple drink of some man's brain and they live happily ever after. But, also in my head, I felt sick.
Don't get me wrong, the song is good and all. But the overall shock value of this video is not worth adding to my playlist after watching that.
Maybe I'll just stick with Almost Easy. That song is too much for me.

“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

Hi, sorry if this post isn't relevant.
Trying to find the poem that contains the quote, "Sweet mother, I cannot weave / Slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl"
What poem is this from? Helppp 😭😭😭

Bit of a longer post, sorry bout that, but I felt it was time, perhaps once again, to point out the flaws and limitations in the CDC’s stats on sexual violence, specifically as they relate to the National Intimate Partner Sexual Violence Survey (NISVS), which is the source of all the fun stats on sexual violence that get thrown around by the 451 percenters. Who are the 451 percenters? Those the folks who believe and spread the lies bout sexual violence being endemic to society. Everyone’s a sexual predator! All 451 percent of women are violated, and all 451 percent of men are violators.
TL;DR: An analysis and rebuttal to the CDC and NISVS’s statistics on sexual violence. The CDC uses NISVS to generate the stats on punny sexual violence that make wild claims, like one third of all women, etc… the 451 percenters’ claims bout punny sexual violence. They use a ‘yes means yes’ method of determining what counts as punny sexual violence, which is aesthetics based. Elevating aesthetical concerns to ethically obligatory concerns is fascistic, and a grave moral fallacy. ‘Yes means yes’ is also puritanical, meaning it overly moralizes sexuality. Putting puritanical fascists in charge of determining how many punny sexual offenses are happening is like putting the KKK in charge of determining how many jews are sexual predators. “All 451 percent of them, obviously!”
Body Of The Post
‘Yes means yes’ is an aesthetical ethical concern, ‘Do I want it or not’. This is what the National Intimate Partner Violence Survey (NISVS) and the CDC use and reflect in their stats on sexual violence. Vibes. They are the ‘emmitt till got what he deserved’ crowd. Whistling at a lady is a criminalizable offense to these folks, a ‘punny sexual violence’.
‘No means no’ is an ethically obligatory concern, ‘Did I refuse it or not’. This is what the criminal stats on sexual violence use and reflect in their stats on sexual violence. Hard data. They are the ‘emmit till did nothing wrong’ crowd. Whistling at a lady is at most tasteless, emmitt till could do far better.
‘Wanting’ or ‘Not Wanting’ something does not consent make. I can want to fuck someone, but not consent to do so. I could not want to fuck someone, but nonetheless consent to do so. The former perhaps because I think it is a bad idea to fuck ‘em even tho I want to. The latter, perhaps because I think it is a good idea to fuck ‘em even tho I don’t want to.
The ‘yes means yes’ folks, the CDC & NISVS stats on sexual violence all mistake ‘wanting’ and ‘not wanting’ for ‘consenting’ and ‘not consenting’; these are not the same things. This is deliberate on their part too. They believe that ‘yes means yes’ is what ought to constitute a determination of sexual violence. Regardless of how y’all view that, it is a deeply controversial notion, and not necessarily reflective of what most people think of when they think of sexual violence.
‘Unwanted’ essentially means ‘I don’t like it’. It is a complaint bout the aesthetical qualities of the sexual encounter, not its consensualism. If this is at all unclear, the simplest method to understand why this is so is to note two unrelated aspects.
One is racism. People regularly ‘feel fearful’ of men for no reason at all, but they also feel fearful of men because of racism all the time. That fear factor ™ is what makes the encounter ‘coercion’ or ‘unwanted’. The person literally does nothing wrong, *just exists* and the other person freaks out.
Note in the quoted sections at the end of this post how much of the stats rely on fear and feelings to generate their numbers.
Two is the person came on too strong or in an undesirable way. The person flirts in a normal and perfectly fine way, but the other person freaks out. Think bout it people, for the love of god think bout it. ‘Coming on too strong’ and ‘an undesirable flirtation’ are being counted as ‘punny sexual violence’ in these stats.
It’s entirely puritanical, and entirely a concern bout aesthetics.
There are other sorts of coercive methods, but the point here is that the terms ‘unwanted’ and ‘coercion’ only really cash out as ‘I don’t like it for some reason or another’ in the CDC’s and NISVS’s stats.
When you see that lady spouting off bout her fears of mexican rapists, she’s reflected in these stats folks. They’re just surveys. People who lock their car doors in ‘bad neighborhoods’ are reflected in those stats.
These all translate to ‘I felt threatened’ (big black boy vibes) or ‘felt pressured’ (scary white guy vibes), or ‘felt in danger’ (native american coming to get you vibes), or ‘felt uncertain if you wanted it’ (arab terrorist vibes) or 'felt like I was being manipulated' (angry asian martial artists vibes) . Doesn’t have to be racism at play here either, women can be irrationally fearful of any man. Vibes.
The actions themselves are not criminalizable.
Non p-hacked stats try to avoid these kinds of obvious ambiguities in the language used to generate the 451 percenters’ stats. These folks however lean into the lies and deceptions, and deliberately use language designed to deceive people reading the stats into thinking that people have been harmed. They take language that means literally ‘I like or don’t like it’ and translate that to mean ‘I was sexually harassed, sexually assaulted, or even raped’.
This is how they inflate the numbers, so we get to the 451 percenters’ wacky ass beliefs; ‘451 percent of women will suffer egregious sexual violence to them at least fifty times in their lives’. All this means is vibes. 451 percent of women get some bad vibes bout some dudes.
You can hear it echoed in the bear or man discourse. Why do women choose the bear? Vibes and irrational fears. ‘We choose the bear because we don’t feel safe!’ translates directly to ‘Emmitt till whistled at me, and he’s a big black boy, that’s scary’ and ‘the mexican rapists are swarming over the border to get me’.
These are the stats that people point to when they try to justify their misandristic hot ass takes. They are self-referential to that same fear based aesthetic the stats are. The stats are reflective of peoples’ irrational fears, and people use those stats to justify their irrational fears, and people spread those fear based stats thereby spreading their unjustified fears. It’s a circle rub.
To criminalize these kinds of things is to be fascistic (treating aesthetics as if they were of obligatory concern), to believe that they are morally reprehensible is to be a puritan (overly moralizing sexuality).
The folks deriving these stats translate ‘unwanted’ (aesthetical ethics) to ‘sexual assault’, ‘sexual harassment’, or ‘rape’ (obligatory ethics), then lump everything together as ‘punny sexual violence’ to get the big numbers used to scare people and terrorize men. That’s called fascism.
“[T]here remains a likelihood of underreporting due to the sensitive nature of SV”.
This justification means that they do not trust people to report SV, ‘don’t believe women when they say they haven’t suffered any SV, manipulate the questions so they say yes to something they don’t think is SV, or which simply isn’t SV, and we’ll just call it SV of this or that sort. Later we’ll propagandize people so they too come to believe our puritanical misandristic hot ass takes.’
There is no lie nor hyperbole in what I am saying here. That is the rationale and the method. If you bone up on your academic lit in the topic, this is, well not verbatim what they say, I am lambasting them here, but this is the crux of what their argument and justifications are, and they explicitly hold that they ought be propagandizing people to their puritanical beliefs.
They push the fascistic (aesthetical ethical) and puritanical (overly moralized sexual ethics) discourse into the public by presenting stats that merely reflect fears and pretend that they are reflective of sexual violence. People then come to believe that those kinds of fear based concerns are actually sexual violence. An ‘unwanted flirtation’ becomes in their minds and only in their minds a sexual violence.
Emmitt till got lynched for whistling at a lady. They only disagree bout the racism, but he definitely deserved to be punished in some way like all men do for whistling at someone they think is hot af. Puritanism.
All just vibes, all but aesthetics, and all fascistically raised to a level of ethically obligatory concern.
“Just as SV is not limited to physically forced penetration, its perpetrators are not limited to strangers. Indeed, perpetrators of SV are more likely to be someone known to the victim. Sexual violence is a problem embedded in our society and includes unwanted acts perpetrated by persons very well known (e.g., family members, intimate partners, and friends), generally known (e.g., acquaintances), not known well or just known by sight (e.g., someone in your neighborhood, person just met) and unknown to the victim (e.g., strangers). “
Be afraid of everyone, any man out there could be your next rapist! That’s right ladies and gents, you’ve been raped several times already, you just didn’t know it. But don’t worry, the statisticians know better. They asked you an unrelated question you said yes to since you were too dumb to know that you were raped, and counted it as rape. Then they informed you that you ought be afraid of everyone in your community, lest they also rape you, unbeknownst to you of course. But again, don’t worry, the statistician will count those too.
As a measure of fear the 451 percenters capture, well or worse who knows, all the racism, sexism, bigotry, and various phobias in the society, and how those fears are transferred onto masculine bodies as imaginary perpetrators of punny sexual offenses. None of it is real, there are not 451 percent of sexual violences happening, 451 percent of men are not sexual predators, and 451 percent of women are not victims of sexual violence.
‘Safety culture’ mostly reflects irrational fears.
Ask the kkk how many black people are rapists, you’re gonna get a high number. Ask puritans how many people are punny sexual offenders, you’re going to get a very high number. Such is the most tame interpretation of what is going on. The 451 percenters are puritans, they’ve overly moralized sexuality, counting offenses to their sensibility rather than criminal actions.
Puritans informing you how ‘vile and wicked’ your sexual ways are; advocating to make their puritanical beliefs bout punny sexual offenses into legally enforceable laws. These are the same kinds of concerns bout a someone dressing too provocatively, such is a ‘punny sexual violation’ to the sensibilities of others.
The less tame version of this is that it is exactly what fascists do. Lie to people especially bout punny sexual offenses in order to ratchet up the fear levels in the population, so they run to them to solve the ‘problem’.
Could be both tho.
Either way, their misandry murders little boys. They celebrate terrorizing men, and rejoice in lynching folks. They’re despicable people.
Solutions?
Ruthlessly love them. Write them love poems, show them kindness and generosity of spirit, but give them not a dime in money, nor ever relent to their irrational fears. Extol their beauty and virtues, make love with them, utterly ruthlessly. Be overtly sexual bout it, in this give them no quarter, bring to an end their puritanism by giving them no plausible cause to be thus. No one under the duress of loves’ enticements and sexual pleasures be puritans. Be relentless, show them masculine sexuality; give them nothing to complain bout, but give them masculine sexuality. Don’t fall for their puritanism, be the boys of summer.
Respect a ‘no means no’ ethic as a code of obligatory actions. Use aesthetical ethics towards good sex with mutual respect given; don’t ever take that as a one way thing. Do not conflate the aesthetics of good sex, 'enthusiastic yeses’ with those of the ethics of obligation ‘no means no’. Don’t be puritans, don’t be fascists, be sex positivists.
Call out the stats when folks bring them up, refer people to these points, feel free to refer people to this post and/or the attached video. ‘But the CDC said’ is not a valid argument; they have put puritans in charge of determining punny sexual offenses. They find punny sexual offenses everywhere they look.
If you’re super coolio, start advocating against the CDC’s use of NISVS to determine what constitutes sexual violence. It doesn’t match with criminal data’s methods, it doesn’t utilize the metrics of ‘no means no’ which are the proper metrics to use, instead it utilizes what amounts to peculiar beliefs bout the aesthetics of sex as a means of measure for punny sexual offenses.
They are spreading a puritanical belief system bout punny sexual offenses, nothing more, and they are causing public health problems by spreading their lies. They are not counting sexual offenses, they are not a criminal justice system, they aren’t technically even in the business of understanding sexual violence. They are the Center For Disease Control, not the ‘center for social engineering sexual practices control’.
Original video on the topic, with some additional resources for understanding these issues in the description.
The Rest Of This Post Is References To The CDC, NISVS, And Crime Data Reports, Along With Some Quotes Thereof With Short Specific Retorts Highlighting The Relevant Info In The Quotes As It Pertains To The Post. This Is But A Small Sample Of How They Use Language Of Aesthetics To Make Their Ethical Claims, And How Their Language Is Misandristic.
sv_surveillance_definitionsl-2009-a.pdf (cdc.gov)
Fast Facts: Preventing Sexual Violence Violence Prevention Injury Center CDC
Key Terms & FAQs National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey (NISVS)Funded
Programs Violence Prevention Injury Center CDC
Some key quotes from this, Bolded text hereafter are coded for ‘yes means yes’ methods of understanding sexual violence, and sometimes misandristic language. Italicized text are quotes from the sources:
“Rape is defined as any completed or attempted unwanted [unwanted is an aesthetic criteria, not a consent criteria which is ‘a no was stated’ attempted while a real thing allows for further insertion of scary vibes to pad the stats, e.g. the blackness of the lover] ...includes times when the victim was drunk, high*, drugged, or passed out and unable to consent.* [puritanical belief bout drinking and drugs, e.g. one cannot consent if drunk or high. Note that it is separate from being drugged or passed out and unable to consent, and that criminally speaking being drunk or high is not indicative of a lack of capacity to consent, also note this is de facto applied to women only].
“Sexual coercion is defined as unwanted sexual penetration that occurs after a person is pressured in a nonphysical way. In NISVS, sexual coercion refers to unwanted vaginal, oral, or anal sex after being pressured in ways that include being worn down by someone who repeatedly asked for sex or showed they were unhappy; feeling pressured by being lied to, being told promises that were untrue, having someone threaten to end a relationship or spread rumors; and sexual pressure due to someone using their influence or authority.”
Unwanted is an aesthetic category, not a consent category. ‘Sexual coercion’ is not a criminal offense either. It is a puritanical belief bout sexuality that is based on a sex negative view, e.g. that sex is a bad unless and until magical words are said to make it into a good. Calling it ‘sexual violence’ is just lying. Coercion is defined misandristically to only be bout penetration, which precludes all the ways that women use sex and sexuality to manipulate, use, abuse, and harm people; note that there are essentially zero surveys done that include some ‘feminine coded coercive behavior’ into these stats. That is by design. Including not incidentally the way that women have historically and currently used irrational fears over their sexuality to terrorize men and get people murdered.
“Unwanted sexual contact is defined as unwanted sexual experiences involving touch but not sexual penetration, such as being kissed in a sexual way, or having sexual body parts fondled, groped, or grabbed.”
Unwanted is aesthetics, not consent. Also this literally describes flirting. I know they want to try and capture some other sort of notion, grossy mcgrosser pinning someone down and groping them, but all this describes here, and all the stats can possibly reflect, is flirting.
“Non-contact unwanted sexual experiences is defined as those unwanted experiences that do not involve any touching or penetration, including someone exposing their sexual body parts, flashing, or masturbating in front of the victim, someone making a victim show his or her body parts, someone making a victim look at or participate in sexual photos or movies*, or* someone harassing the victim in a public place in a way that made the victim feel unsafe.”
This category is quite broad and puritanical in its disposition, as it assumes there is something wrong with seeing naked images unless and until expressed verbal consent is given, and undoubtedly ignores the en masse flood of naked images of women online to which basically every guy is exposed to. Compare again to people who claim that women ought not be allowed to show their ankles as it causes a ‘harm’ to those who are ‘forced’ to see it. Exact same shite. Aesthetical concerns of wanted or unwantedness, and also notice the expressly stated vibes check ‘victim feel unsafe’. Look out for the black boys, they make them feel unsafe!
Crime/Law Enforcement Stats (UCR Program) — FBI
Quick Facts on Sexual Abuse Offenses (ussc.gov)
It’s worth mentioning that statistically speaking, if one uses the stats derived from crime data as opposed to statisticians making numbers up, the percentages of men who do sexual violence, depending a bit on how you count it, are: 0.0516% or .478% or .0957%. Although the video goes over this all in pretty good depth, just do a little sniff test here; are .478% of the male population sexually violating a third of all women, 55.5 million women?

hi, first time posting here but I've felt compelled to publish a sho'ah poem I had written when I was about seventeen (i have edited it since then). I feel now more than ever, its words have become important to me and my family; So i'd really want to look into publishing it in a magazine or some poetry journal? I've never felt compelled to actually publish my writing or poetry but now I am. However, after seeing zionist writers are being singled out, I fear if I try publishing it anywhere but somewhere Jewish; It might hinder my ability to actually get it published?
I really want to do this, in spite of my fears of any possible judgement towards my writing. I don't think it is a bad poem, I am just fearful of putting myself out there.
anyway, sorry for being so wordy, hope everyone is doing as well as we can in this era. <3

Thank you to Space paladin for the canvas and u/Acceptable_Egg5560 for proofreading and critique
Content warning; Educator abuse and syrupy love
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Memory transcript: Maarchal , MESEA Astronomers. Date: [Standard Farsul calendar ] January 26th, 3667
PLUNCK
Ponthyts blue stick clattered on the board, rolling around in a circle. Before settling on three. He then pumps his paw and moves to move a soldier that many paces.
“Well, I got you cornered now, whatcha going to do about it?” I smirk at Ponthyts soon to be dashed confidence as I take out my red stick and flip in the air much higher than he did with his own.
It hits the board with a loud clatter, bouncing on each end before settling on rolling. To which it landed on seven. I move my last interceptor through his ranks and take his general. The gobsmacked look on his features was evident, with his previously wagging tail so still it made stone seem fluid.
“I win.”
“How did you do that?”
I rolled my shoulders and readjusted my legs underneath. “Well, you left a clear path for my interceptor.” I pointed to the gaps in his remaining pieces.
“I know that! I mean how did you know you'd get a high enough number to do that? Your interceptor was all the way back here and it's your last red piece!!!”
I lean my head back and lean against the wall behind me. “I didn't, I just saw an opportunity and took it.”
He pointed a digit at me “ Mershit, that was some grandmaster trap!”
I give him the ear position of resignation with a mirthful little grin. “I promise you it was just luck.”
He waves his paw dismissively. “I don't believe you.”
“Well believe it, because I don't plan ahead like that. Want to play another game?”
He shakes his head. “Nah I think four games is enough for one night.” He begins moving the pieces into their containers and folds up the board and places it on top of them. Closing the box. He then stands up and offers me his paw, I use it to pull myself up off the floor.“Well Maarchal, I’ll see you tomorrow at the observatory. I’ll bring the set if you want to play it during lunch if you want.”
I froze, “what! What time is it? He turns over to look at the clock above his strove.
“Ahh about Fifteen minutes past 18.”
“Uh, that's not that late! We could play another game! C’mon let's have a tie breaker!”
He rubs his eyes, “I’m tired and we have work in the morning. Is there something you're avoiding?”
I rub my upper right arm and look off into the corner. “...”
He took on a worried look, “Why don't you want to go home Maarchal?”
I sighed and took a seat at his dining room table. “I… I don't like that house, I’ve lived there since I moved to LIghra six years ago but it's not a… home like here.”
I looked around at the messy abode. Dirty cloaks were strewn about on the back of chairs and the rubbish trough was just barely not overflowing. Paintings either from family or Ponthyts own paw were hanged up in the hallways, and the lightbulbs cast a warm orangish light. While the dishes from our dinner were placed in the sink, covered with animal gravy slathered all over them. It was tidy yet just barely so. A place filled with all the markers of being lived in.
“You've lived here less than a year but it feels like it's always had you in it. I feel … so comfortable here. My own home is so… cold and sterile. I Worked a lot the first few months I moved here. I just never got around to making it a home. It feels so bare, I started to work overtime just to avoid it. Which just made the problem worse.”
He sat down across from me, He put his head in his paws and looked at the scratched wood of his table. He held that position for a minute or two before breaking it and placing his paw on my own. “Maarchal, you are my best friend, I want you to feel comfortable. So if you want you can sleep on my coach, I can also help you make your home feel like one."
​
I shake my head, “no no, I shouldnt of imposed on you. Making myself feel at home is a job I need to do and have been avoiding for far too long. It's just… it's just so much easier to avoid you know?” I grabbed his paw and squeezed it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
​
I stand up and make my way to his front door before he speaks up.
​
“Uh hey Maarchal?”
​
I turn to address him “yeah?”
​
He shifts in his seat and fidgets with his fingers. “I’m uh, going to Ootra lake next week. I was wondering If you'd like… to come with me? I promise if you don't have a tent I’ll bring you one. We could have a fire, roast some meat on it and share ghost stories and stargaze… if you want?”
​
“ What about work?”
​
He rocks in his chair. “We'd have to call in for a day or so.”
​
I contemplated his words and mulled them over. It would be the first time I’ve ever willingly taken off a day, tarnishing my perfect attendance. But the prospect of spending more one on one time with Ponthyt was overwhelmingly tempting.
​
“Sure, I’d love to go. But I haven't gone camping for years so you will need to bring me a tent.”
​
He leapt from his chair, launching it backwards, before calming himself down. “I’ll take care of all the prep. You just have to come along. I promise it’ll be loads of fun!”
​
I chuckled while I watched his clearly restrained display as I slowly closed the door.
​
I could hear him howl with enjoyment as I turned into the driveway to get to my auto.
​
**\*
​
“Huff, Huff, you doin alright there Ponthyt?” I turned back to see him walking behind me.
​
“Yeah, oof I haven't walked this much in years!”
​
I waited for him to catch up, we sat together when he did and we caught our breath before tuning to make our way back up the bluff. When we reached it there was a stone gazebo made of limestone. The angle of the sun let it shine into it. We walked into it and sat down on the stone benches. I looked around at the lake.
​
It was surrounded by steep hills with many rock faces visible, the layered stone was clearly visible. The topography of the area around the bluffs was shaped like a bowl, with the sight of land of higher elevation faintly visible in the distance despite its gradual slope. Giving a scene of depth that was not as extreme then in more mountainous areas. This view was normally hidden by the trees below.
​
“Well isn't this view alone worth the trip?” Ponthyt proclaimed.
​
I looked around letting the mid morning sun warm my back, I stretched my arms and breathed deeply. Taking in all the wonderful scents of nature.
​
“Yeah, it's beautiful.” I let myself relax, just letting the sounds and scents of nature calm me like I have never been since I was a pup on an archeological trip with mom and dad.
​
“Hmm, I've missed this.”
​
I don't know for how long I had been like this, but Ponthyt broke the silence “Ahhem, so, you've gone camping before?”
​
I nodded, “yeah when I was a pup my parents would sometimes go off to a site for a couple of weeks and we would come with them. We would have to get homeschooled then. But we would always have to camp and I and my siblings would go off exploring while they worked during the day.”
​
He smiled and his tail was wagging.” That sounds wonderful. I only got to camp for a couple days a year. It was always so hectic. Me and my siblings would just muck around the camp and eat, sometimes hiking around. Heh” Ponthyt looked towards the ground and held his paws together, rubbing his digits together.
​
“What's wrong Ponthyt?”
​
“Oh it's nothing it's-” I put my paw on his shoulder which drew his attention towards me.
​
“I know that's not true, you can trust me. Just tell me what's wrong ok?”
​
He gave a look of reluctance before caving to my request “… sigh… I grew up in a big family, and I love them all but… I was born at a strange time. I was second to last of my parents pups. Which meant they were busy with the older ones' events and taking care of the youngest. I kind of got mixed up and forgotten. My interests rarely lined up with the others and I often messed up tasks that my sibling would just fix or do for me. It got to the point that I… didn't really do anything. They will never say this but… I don't think my parents ever expected anything of me.”
​
I rub his shoulder,” well… I know that you have amounted to something. I mean, you're an astronomer! You work to understand the nature of reality. You're also so… kind and patient. I tried to scare you off but you weren't deterred at my standoffish behavior.”
​
He turned his head and gave me a shallow but joyous expression. “Heh well living in a house that's rarely quiet leaves you with a high tolerance for stubbornness. '' he wipes away a single tear “Sniff well… should we make our way back to camp? Or can I take out my stuff?”
​
I shake my head. ”Nah, you can paint. I’ll just sit here and let this place wash over me.”
​
He smiles and gets up and sets up his easel, taking out his supplies from his bag and gets to work painting the landscape ahead of him. He was slow and each brushstroke was as deliberate as he could manage. He… wasn't very good, only starting out when he moved here. But his drive to get better was admirable. Even in adulthood he tried to learn, to grow, to become more than he was yesterday.
​
I kept staring at him. Feeling something warm in my gut, something an academic wasn't supposed to feel. Shame overwhelmed me and I quickly turned away. Cursing myself for having those accursed feelings.
​
​
**\*
​
Ponthyt, returned from his cauto (Cargo auto -> pickup truck) with an armful of wood he brought with us. He set most of it aside and threw a piece onto the fire he had started, causing a cascade of embers to fly into the late evening air. The dull purple of the sky cast overhead between the canopy of the trees as the chill of the night began to come in. A pleasant coolness that most would take advantage of to seek the comfort of warming oneself close to a fire.
​
Not me, I paced to a fro as Ponthyt set up our campsite. He had placed his painting for the day inside the cabin of his cautoa and was now seasoning some raw meat strips to cook on the open fire. Snacking on one or two as he did so. He hung them on the tripod to roast, the fat that dripped off them as they were cooking sizzled as they burned on the coals below.
​
“I’ll have these done as soon as I can, please sit down Maarchal. Walking like that is only going to make the wait worse.” He says as he prods the suspended meat with a claw like utensil.
​
“Hmm, ok I’ll just sit and wait. Waste my time. Make a waste of the whole evening!!!” I snapped back at him, throwing my paws into the air.
​
Ponthyt recoils from my outburst with his ears pinned back. “ We’re camping, there is no way to waste it.”
​
I turned to address him, “we shouldn't be here! This trip means nothing and we are just wasting our TIME!!!” I cross my arms and scratch at the biceps. Rufflying the fur and making a mess of myself.
​
Ponthyt drops his utensil and walks over to me. “ We’re together and we spent the whole day just mucking about. How is this any more of a waste than that?” He says as he looks at me with eyes full of worry.
​
“We’re scientists, academics!!! We don't waste time like the ignorant masses! We should spend our time wisely!!! Every action of connection is just another moment we waste that could be spent to advance our field.” I had tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Scratching at my fur until I felt a wetness on my arms and paws.
​
“We’re supposed to sharpen our minds! No-not seek pointless relationships! ” I said as I bared my teeth and began growling at him.
​
The look of betrayal and abject worry he had on his face was overwhelming. I didn't want to hurt him. What am I doing? He doesn't deserve my ire. My legs gave out and I cried into my hands.
​
Ponthyt walked over to his cauto and brought out a cover. He wrapped it around me and rubbed my arms through it. He rested his head on top of mine while I sobbed. I couldn't take this anymore. Repressing and lashing out at any attempt to connect. Ponthyt hugged me and rocked back and forth. Humming and rubbing on the cover. He was warm and soft. I don't know how long we had been like this but by the time my sobs turned to a faint whine the meat over the fire was well done and the sky was pure black and the stars were out.
​
“I-I think i’m good no-now.” I choked out. Ponthyt grabbed my hand and helped me stand up. We didn't say another word. He collects the meat and places it on two plates. I stare at my portion for some time, Ponthyt doesn't eat any of his either.
​
“Sigh… I know you might not want to but… Could you tell me why you said those things earlier?” He says with trepidation clearly miring his words.
​
“Yeah, it's just… When I entered college It was… not what I was expecting… I was sort of a hyper teen. Always going off about some book I read. Drawing pictures of stars, space stations or colonies we would make on inhospitable planets.”
​
He sits up and places his plate by his side. “You draw? I’d love to see some of them.”
​
“I used to. But I haven't since that first year of college.” I turned to stare at the dying inferno warming us. I pull the cover around me tighter.
​
“When I was doodling before class one day the professor walked by me. He noticed what I was doing and grabbed my paper. I objected but he just stared at me. When he started to address the class he showed it off and mocked me for wasting my time.” Ponthyt turns his head to look at me.
​
“That's a dick move, But at least he couldn't do the same when you did it in your free time right?” I turned to him with a somber expression. He seemed to understand the implications though he seemed to be confused as to how.
​
“He couldn't have gotten into your room right? That'd be a huge breach of privacy!!!”
​
I grabbed the poker and stirred the coals of the fire. “You're right, he couldn't. But he didn't need to, my roommate would take them with her to class and he’d pin them up on the board to mock. I called the staff but since she was my roommate she didn't break any privacy laws and since my art was only ever worth the paper it was on it wasn't even enough to get a misdemeanor theft charge. I tried to hide it but she would always find them. I tried to get another roommate but he stonewalled my attempts and I couldn't afford to rent a place in town. ”
​
He took on a look of absolute despair. “... How… how could he be so aggressively intolerant of such an innocent hobby?”
​
I chuckled “It wasn't just mine, a few others had made the mistake of having a roommate with the same professor. I remembered one who loved going out in the woods for hikes. When he found out about that he mocked him for “Pointless exercise and admiring a random assemble of dead and dying shit””. I waved my arms about to emphasize how he inflicted his words.
​
Ponthyt stared at the ground between us with a look of utter confusion.” … He mocked someone for appreciating nature and being healthy?”
​
I nodded, “if you were not engaging with study of his topic you were wasting his and everyone else's time.”
​
Ponthyt looks at me with concern and shared pain. “Why, why didn't you go to a different school?”
​
I stared at him in his eyes. A scene of shame overtook me. “It was the top class in the country. My family was so proud of me. I was so proud of myself, I didn't want to disappoint them and me. Looking back on it, I realize my own pride was something I rarely contended with until then. It didn't help when he found out who my family was.”
​
Ponthyt recoiled and waved his arms in a “what” fashion. “Wait, what does your family have to do with this?”
​
I poked at a log to knock off the charcoal to expose the untouched wood underneath. “They were happy. He spent a lot of time in academic circles so naturally he met people who knew my parents. And the way they described this happy family irritated him something fierce. He gave me such a hard time with it. Mocking me for being a lazy nepotism pick who didn't deserve her seat in his class. He mocked anyone for having any kind of non professional relationship, we never spoke to each other outside of class. We never left or met with friends or family. If we tried too he’d find out and call the one in question a “Lazy sentimental idiot.””
​
I breathed in deeply, “... that hurt my pride so severely that I just stopped seeing them or any of my friends. I always said I was busy or had a field study, but I was just reading and rereading his lectures. I didn't even go home for the summer breaks, I just apprenticeshiped at his museum to study even more. At graduation he looked so… proud, I only realized he was proud of what he turned me into and not what I did a few weeks after I met you. How I let him turn me into an angry starile shell of a person.”
​
Ponthyt turned his head towards the fire. His ears straight up and a soft growl in his throat. “... If I ever meet that piece of.. nuclear waste, I’ll kill him.”
​
He turns to me and his features soften immediately. “Anyone capable of manipulating someone as passionate and creative as you... I can't even imagine the kind of living hell he made you seek…”
​
I chucked and a slight wag entered my tail.” I’m responsible for my life. MY pride kept me there for him to mold. I hate him, but I hate myself for it too.”
​
Ponthyt shoots up and screams at me “MERSHIT, Maarchal, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You had a right to expect your teachers to be respectable people. Not abusive and manipulative Sherkires (Ambush insect. Commonly seen as sneaky and unhonorable due to making pheromones and calls imitating other insects mating signals). He starts to speak softer as he turners to address me.
​
“Even this version of you, so cut off of why you love space in the first place is just.. You are one of the most remarkable people I have ever met. So humble with addressing yourself. You inspire me to be a tenth of the person you are.” He kneels in front of me and grabs my paws in his own.
​
“You are… you are so passionate, so creative. Even with being a self described shell. I can't even imagine how you will be when you open up again and explore your creativity in full and banish that monster's influence for good.”
​
I turn and I can't help but smile at his words.”... I haven't been in practice in years. But … I’m willing to relearn it with you.” I stared deeply in his eyes and that feeling again bubbles within me. The feeling of never wanting to leave his side, the feeling as though I found a piece I had been missing. Before I knew it I bit on his snout, recoiling when I realized what I had done.
​
‘I-I’m so sorry!!! You were just so close and and I felt something and before I knew it-” I was caught off guard when he bit my snout, holding my top jaw between his own set. I bit down on his lower jaw and we locked together. He tried to let go after a while. But I growled to let him know I wasn't ready yet and I used my leverage to lead him into my tent.
​
**\*
​
I got up and exited my tent. I stood up and stretched and twisted my back around. Lifting my arms above my head and pulling them as far out as I could. I looked at the coals still burning in our firepit, I could only tell they were burning from the heat going off of them as the glow was hidden by the sun's light. Before noticing the meat Ponthyt prepared last night still on the plates on the log we sat on.
​
“Pff, hey Ponthyt. Come out here!!!” I said behind me. He crawled out my tent with a head of messy fur.
​
“Wut ?” He said with half closed eyes and a disposition of utter exhaustion . I pointed to the cold meat. He still had a look of drowsiness before he realized what the significance of the strange strips were.
​
“Heh, I guess we won't need to make breakfast?” I chuckled as I sat down and hugged his head. I groomed his messy fur as I absorbed the morning sun. I don't know what the future of my career looked like anymore. But it was no longer the most important thing in my life. I loved space, I loved to learn. But In these years I had lost track of what was truly important. As I groomed him Ponthyt fell asleep with his head in my lap.
​
As I felt the joy of reciprocal love again for the first time in years I leaned back and watched the sunrise, caressing my love's head and breathing in the fresh air.
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Throwaway because my partner asked me to keep this between us but I need advice and help here in the meantime while I pursue my own professional advice.
Some background about my partner and relationship:
We've been dating for 3+ years and living together for almost 1 now. It's been a very healthy relationship and all my friends and family think she is truly great and we are great together. They are all encouraging us to get married if it's something we want to pursue. It's something we've been talking a lot about lately and my plan is to ask her soon. We are in our 30s if that matters.
She does have a history of struggling with self esteem, severe anxiety, panic attacks, and eating disorders. Her partner for most of her life was also physically and mentally abusive.
That ended four years ago and since she's been working very hard on herself and her life. Regular therapy, climbed out of debt, better habits - I've seen incredible improvements that she's worked hard on. Her parents have told me a few times that they feel like they have their daughter back. That she is back to the girl them remember. You'd have to meet her, everyone sees her as this bright shining happy person.
The eating disorder thing she has told me was something that she overcame and has not struggled with during our relationship- it was "defeated" though she admits her therapist has told her that it's always something she will have to battle with. There has never been any sign to me that she has been struggling with it during our relationship.
Anxiety overall is still her big daily battle and I've seen it a lot. Because of her history, sometimes I'm not doing anything "wrong" but any friction between us can be very stressful to her. It's not always, most of the time we function in what seems to me to be a fully normal way and communicate better through things than anyone I've ever been with. But sometimes she will get triggered by something and will have pretty severe panic attacks with little warning. It can be very scary and extremely sad to see her go through.
I've only seen it happen about 5-10 times but she says in the past it used to happen a lot more. I've helped calm her down through most of them it's not easy and she even fights it a bit during the attack sometimes but I've learned what she needs and how to be there for her through them and she needs that from someone and I can be that.
Sometimes all this takes a lot of patience but she is a very amazing person and I've always been willing to do whatever I can to support her as she recovers from the trauma she's been through. She's also incredibly supportive of me and without getting into me, I'm not perfect or always easy either....
What happened:
Last night my partner came home a bit tipsy after going out with co-workers. I was pumped because I had just booked our entire upcoming vacation and paid for it. She realized when I was telling her that she messed up with her time off and it might mess with our trip. Though I was a bit annoyed with her the conversation that took place wasn't a bad argument by any sense. You will have to believe me about that, on the scale of arguments it wasn't bad just kind of like "lol damn come on girl whaaat".
She is really embarrassed though and like I said a bit tipsy. Though I can't always see it coming, this quickly became a situation where the last guy would absolutely lose it, she was bracing for it, and even though I wasn't she still panicking a bit. So she says that she just wants to take a few minutes to calm down and reset.
She goes into the other room for a while then to the bathroom. About 10 minutes later I hear here throwing up in the bathroom a little. Thinking she is just upset, a little drunk and maybe feeling sick I go to help.
I don't knock on the door which was dumb but we have kind of a loose relationship around the bathroom generally and I was just thinking I was rushing in to be supportive, hold her hair back, rub her back, tell her it's gonna work out, ect.
First thing I see is that she's got her fingers all the way down her throat making herself throw up. I look at her and say "babe are you feeling sick from being a bit drunk?" and she says "no" in a really weird tone. I'm so confused. Then I say "are you trying to make yourself throw up on purpose?" and she says "no" in the same tone. And I say "Babe uhhhhh I don't know what to say please tell me what's going on here what's up" and she "collapses on the floor in a heap crying "I'm sorry I'm so sorry" over and over again.
So I'm recognizing the signs of her falling into a panic attack wrapped around a puke covered toilet and immediately go into support mode, tell her it's OK, tell her we need to get her up and off the toilet. She keeps saying "no no no" and again this might sound bad but I've learned panic attack mode GF is NOT my gf and needs my help as confirmed by my gf outside of panic attacks - so while she is saying no I pick her up, get her to walk with me and bring her to the bedroom to wrap her in a blanket. She just cries and cries and says "I'm sorry over and over" and I just hold her and stroke her hair and tell her it's OK.
Laying there just telling her it's OK and I'm now low key having my own small anxiety attack. Here is my partner that I love that I live with suffering in a big way and a clear escalation of her anxiety impacting her in real, physical now incredibly alarming ways.
I'm absolutely shook but all I know is nothing I say or do out of anger or fear is going to help this situation at all so I just go into full support mode loving her.
She asks to go take a shower and I say OK go take some time. She's in there for about 20 minutes and I'm reading every single reddit thread of all time on Bulimia as fast as I can. Everything I'm reading seems super grim. I'm doing my best to tell the terror I'm feeling that even if it's valid it's not going to help me at all right now.
I go in figuring she's just sitting on the floor crying. Yup. But also, with a bunch of puke in the tub too. Fuck. I don't mention the puke, get her up, rinsed, dried off and into bed. Hold her for a while until she calms down.
We calmly discuss the entire thing. We both agreed that I'm not going to try to make her stop but lying about it isn't going to be good for her or for us. To get through this together we gotta be together on it and be honest. She asks me not to tell anyone about this. I tell her I won't for now but I need to have some time to digest what's happening and figure out how to support myself here while I support her to. She is kind of super embarrassed but doesn't know what to say.
She admits that this is something she's struggled with her whole life but thought she "beat" it right before we started dating over three years ago. We agree that she needs to talk to her therapist about this this week and alert her primary care (who is aware of past issues) that there has been a relapse. I try not to ask too many prying questions but do try to get an assessment of what's going on and for how long.
It's been going on for a month now since her birthday and happened about five times. She was able to talk about all five times it happened and why. That it has nothing to do with anything with us, or with weight even. It's entirely an anxiety thing. Some of it is around anxiety of wanting to be a mom and also wanting to have her life way more together than it is.
Apparently for her it is a reset button for her anxiety. If she is about to have a panic attack or feels overwhelmed in a big way she can do that and it makes all of the feelings pass instantly.
My brother is a recovering heroin addict and I have more than a few other people who have struggled with addiction in my family. The way she talked about purging, the tone in her voice, sounded almost like someone talking about the release they get from heroin. Even though I could tell she was ashamed and embarrassed and doesn't want to do it, when she was like "it's hard to even explain it just makes it all just go away". It was hard to keep my poker face and not cry hearing the tone in her voice and being a bit triggered by all the addiction I've seen people I love go through.
Now she's at work and I'm reading everything I can about Bulimia and it's pretty still terrifying honestly.
I feel so bad for this person I love that they struggle with this and suffer from this. How much has she already hurt herself in the past that will last? Will she be able to stop this time? What does it mean for her or for us if she can't?
I don't know how to support myself through this or how to support her either. I'm going to get a therapist for myself so I can start talking to them about this right away because I'm so far in over my head on this one.
Any advice you can give me on how to be the best loving supportive partner while also taking care of myself would be appreciated. If your advice is leave right away please save it.
Thank you all and if you are out there struggling with this or one of your loved ones is I'm so sorry but we are in this together now.

I am gobsmacked that season 3 comes out tomorrow. I have had such a blast writing up these rewatch recaps. For anyone that's curious, I'm watching all four episodes when I wake up tomorrow morning (probably around 7AM EST), then heading to lunch to debrief with my cousin before we rewatch a second time.
This is my absolute favorite episode of the series. I've watched it so many times, it's just such a great finale. So, I say this begrudgingly, thank you to Jess Brownell for writing such an excellent episode. If you keep up this energy in seasons three and four, I will gladly eat my words.
"The Viscount Who Loved Me" finds the Bridgerton family recovering from the fallout of Eloise's scandal, Kate recovering from her injury, and the final ball of the season, hosted by the Featheringtons.
Benedict appears for the first time in this episode when he arrives at the Danbury House, his valet having noticed Anthony carrying Kate inside. He asks Anthony if he's alright, and you can really see his concern for his brother. When Anthony says everything is his fault, you can clearly see the look on Ben's face change, and I just love Luke T in this scene.
We see Benedict again in the Bridgerton drawing room, a week having gone by, strewn over his favorite chair, next to Eloise as he sketches away. When Anthony enters, making demands, Ben looks a bit irritated with his brother, especially as he begins to berate Colin, declaring "he is one and twenty, Brother." Anthony dismisses him, saying, "Keep to your doodling," clearly offending Ben, before he leaves along with the rest of the siblings.
Also, non-Benedict related comment, but I never noticed that in the scene where Footman John drops off the parcel with the hidden message inside from Theo, Eloise's dress has a distinct floral pattern on. So I apologize to Theloise truthers, but even in a scene involving Theo, there are obvious signs pointing to Sir Phillip.
We don't see Ben again until about twenty-two minutes, where Ben is happily painting Tessa when Rupert walks in, calling Ben's work "remarkable" and his best yet, before saying that the people at the Academy assumed he'd be "all drink and no paint." Suddenly Ben's confidence washes away, as he asks Rupert to clarify what he means. Rupert admits to Benedict that Anthony has made a large donation to the school, which ultimately secured him a place. He says he thought Benedict knew, but we all know he did not, and you can just see the pain in his face as he realizes he did not in fact get into the Academy based on his skill, but rather based on his last name and the financial support Anthony gave. This would have taken place right after Benedict rattled off his "what is it truly to admire a woman," poem, Anthony having responded, "you should apply yourself more often, Benedict." I often wonder if Anthony had wanted Ben to do exactly that, and apply himself, recognizing his brother's potential, and made the donation so Ben would have the opportunity. But, regardless, this absolutely shatters Benedict's confidence in himself as an artist, and is likely the catalyst for his journey in season three.
Also, more floral patterns on Eloise's dress during the "break up" with Theo.
And we have the swing scene, Benedict approaching his sister looking rather worried for her, obviously knowing of her scandal. He says, "you seem to have the melancholy of heartbreak about you," and Eloise fires back "what would you know of heartbreak?" Benedict kind of scoffs, replying, "I would not, really." We all know what this is: Benedict is probably just eight-ish episodes away from having his heart shattered in a million pieces if I had to guess. This conversation is just so great, both siblings feeling like imposters, both wanting something more out of life and feeling like it's been taken away from them. Benedict tells Eloise that when looking at a Bridgerton painting, one feels "disappointment" and "lack of inspiration." He is, of course, describing how he currently feels about himself. He's disappointed in the fact that his art skills did not get him admitted to the Academy, and is no longer feeling inspired because of that. Perhaps he just needs a muse? I think it's likely he will find that muse very soon, and his underlying story next season will probably revolve around that "lack of inspiration." But, aside from all this, we do have a really lovely moment between these two siblings. I wonder if they will be more at odds next season because of Eloise's friendship with Cressida, or if we will be blessed with more swing set scenes.
Benedict is next seen arriving at the Featherington Ball with Anthony, Violet, and Eloise, looking like he really does not want to be there as he bites his lip and walks off. He then returns, nudging Eloise in the arm, saying, "Steady." Eloise looks to Violet, replying, "And ready," the two walk off, Benedict smiling as they go.
Benedict appears again after Penelope runs off, having heard Colin's words for her, encountering Anthony. Benedict tells him he's leaving the Academy because of his donation. Benedict admits to Anthony that he knows he was trying to help in his own "misguided way," before telling him that he believes Anthony did it because he recognized that Benedict just wasn't good enough. Anthony tells him, "If you want to paint, paint. It is one of your many talents, chief among them your natural girl for seeing what others need, even when they cannot see it themselves." He admits it has taken him too long to realize it, and Benedict brushes off the compliment, his confidence lost entirely, and tells Anthony to enjoy the rest of his evening. This is how the season is wrapping up the kind of back and forth between the brothers, where Benedict is constantly reaching out to Anthony, and Anthony is dismissing him. Finally it's Anthony who is reaching out, telling Benedict he is essentially sorry for not realizing sooner that Benedict was always seeing in him what Anthony himself didn't even realize. But now Benedict is shutting his brother out, in a switch that may give Anthony room to help his brother through this dark period next season.
Finally we see Benedict in his studio, closing his box of art supplies (with four fingers, leading to the season four theory), effectively closing this chapter of his life.
Benedict appears in the epilogue, playing pall mall with the family and Kate after they return from their honeymoon. Six months have gone by. He looks distinctly less happy than he did for most of the second half of this season, part of him missing, but he does smile at Newton running off with Anthony's ball. He grins at Daphne as they watch Anthony so in love, laughing a bit when she declares it means they are cutting out. Benedict makes his last appearance this season, walking off as Anthony and Kate hold up the pall mall game, pleased that his brother has finally found true happiness.
And thus concludes our Benedict-centric rewatch of seasons one and two. His ending is rather sad here, having given up the Academy, which made him so happy throughout this season, but we have a rather good idea where we'll find him in season three. Hopefully he will find his muse when he is least expecting it, but we know he's feeling unconfident and beaten down by the fact that his admission to the art academy was not based on his talent. Colin's travels and Anthony's marriage will likely leave Benedict feeling like he has nothing at all. As Bridgerton likes to beat down their leads before their season begins (Penelope got a one-two punch in the finale, as her friendship with Eloise ends and then she overhears Colin saying he would never court her), so I expect Benedict to be kicked down rather effectively in the season three finale. It will be sad to watch, but worth it knowing what's coming.
I'll probably be muting both this sub and the main one tonight so I don't see any spoilers before I finish season 3 tomorrow morning, but I hope you have all enjoyed going on this ride with me. I'll see everyone tomorrow, when we have more Benedict to analyze!
Best Benedict quote from this episode: "Imposter party of two?"

I am not The OOP, OOP is u/Nocontact4you
None of my family knows this trip will be the last time they see me.
Originally posted to TrueOffMyChest & Poems
Thanks to u/lolfuckno for suggesting this BoRU
TRIGGER WARNING: Infidelity, cancer, ableism, bullying, abandonment, emotional abuse of a child, verbal abuse, neglect, lies, mentions of miscarriage
MOOD SPOILER: Depressing
Original Post Feb 4, 2024
Firstly, I’m okay, physically anyway.
Honestly, I have no idea who this is for, but I think I just need it out of my head.
The circumstances of my birth were complicated. I broke up two marriages, and my family has never been shy about how they feel about me for that. Only one of my brothers has gotten drunk enough to tell me to my face that he resents me for existing, but I know it exists within all of them, at least in some way. Im much younger than all my siblings, and there was so much that happened out of our hands that I made excuses, but my whole life, I’ve never quite felt “part of the family”.
As a child, I told myself we’d make up for lost time once I got older and we could talk as equals. Now, at 23, I see glimpses of the life I wished I’d have, but in the end, I’m always too much trouble to involve. I hear EVERYTHING from my father. I had to find out my niece was in a car accident from him; I had to find out my other niece had a miscarriage from him; I had to find out my oldest brother had a BRAIN TUMOR haphazardly on a phone call with my father, which he didn’t even know I was unaware of.
I’ve known for a while I’m the only one trying, but for the sake of my dreams, I’ve given every opportunity for them to let me in, but I just can’t do it anymore.
I have a psychiatric service dog who aids me with CPTSD. He is the single greatest thing to happen to me. Not only did he save my life from myself, but he has made life livable. He can tell when I’m panicking and he knows pressure therapy to help me through an attack. He stops me from hurting myself in meltdowns, sits with me until the only noise I can hear anymore is his snoring on my lap. He allows me to go grocery shopping by myself. He is my soulmate, and anyone who knows me knows how important he is to me.
My dating life isn’t thriving, so I took a shot in the dark and asked my niece if she minded if I brought my service dog as my plus one for her wedding at the end of this month. I have to fly across the country to go, so I will be bringing him anyway since I cannot fly alone. I figured it couldn’t hurt to see if he could not have to stay in the hotel all night. I do not technically need him for the event, since I’ll know every guest and I will be drinking pretty heavily to cope, but getting to spoil him with a bow-tie, dancing, and STEAK, sounded like the perfect reward for helping me on my flight. Several times, I emphasized that I understood it was an odd request and she could say no if she wanted.
She was EMPHATIC that he could come! She said even if I found a date, he could come! I was elated! For once, I felt seen, I felt cared about, I felt valued. And then I got a call from my dad. No one wanted to make things awkward, but the mother of the bride was NOT okay with a dog being at the venue. I explained that he is a trained service animal and will not impede the ceremony in anyway, and I’d of course remove him if he did. Still, he said they didn’t like it. I was so tired of hearing everyone else’s words through my father. He won’t be around forever and sooner or later, they will have to start talking to me
I had one request: let the bride tell me. When I asked her, she said yes, and until she told me she changed her mind, I was under the assumption he could go. Well, I never heard back. My dad kept dropping hints when i’d call him, but I told him what my expectations were. When I RSVP’d, I put my dog as my plus one on the response to let them know I wasn’t backing down this time. At this point, I didn’t even care if she said he couldn’t go. I just wanted to hear it from her.
The next morning, I woke up to an EMAIL from my father. Not even a text, a fucking email explaining that my niece didn’t want to be the bad guy, but my dog was NOT welcome at the wedding. He said he was sorry, but he could still come with me to the hotel if I wanted.
Something inside me broke, I think. I think I realized this is truly a helpless case. They are never going to respect me the way I crave them to. To this day, not one of our conversations has been started by them. I always initiate, and now, the one time I request a direct contact, I get an email.
Family means everything to me. Over the last few years, i’ve redefined what a family can be, and if right now, my family needs to be a very damaged orphan and their service animal, I’m grateful I have that much.
So, I’m going to the wedding, and then I’m never going to talk to any of them again.
And the sad part is, I didn’t even think they’re going to notice.
Update:
First, thank you to everyone for the kind words, and all the advice. It sincerely means so much that so many people care. I want to address all the questions about why I want to go to this wedding at all. There are plenty of practical reasons that I can name, but the truth is, I need to go for my own closure.
I have a strange relationship with death, and loss. My mother died when I was 5; my family split up right after. I’ve lost several caregivers to serious diseases, grieving their death as they lived. I’ve learned how to navigate MY grieving process. If I don’t go to this wedding, I will regret it. Not only is it my last chance to see my childhood family all together in one place, but if I don’t go, I show them they can bully me. I do not want to make a spectical of my trauma with them, but that does not mean I have to walk away with my tail between my knees.
I’m not scared of them. My relationship is non-existent, but I did see my siblings/cousins/neiecesandnephews fairly regularly. When I was a kid, they intimidated and bullied me into silence, but I’m not a child anymore. I lived with these people; I can manage one night, if for no other reason than to prove they cannot control me.
Thanks again for all the kind words. Happy to provide a pupdate if someone can tell me how to post pictures from the app?
RELEVANT COMMENTS
When told not to go to the wedding

I spent $700 on a plane ticket and $200 on a suit. Least I can do is go drink someone else’s liquor and dance my worries away. Besides. It feels like goodbye

&

The cherry on top is they are all very conservative Christians, and I will be going in a suit with my hair dyed green and makeup done to the nines, so this will be my biggest “fuck you, I’m here anyway” I can pull off. Truthfully, my father’s memory is starting to go as he gets older, so even if I did explain my feelings, he will end up sharing anyway, so I’ve made my peace with the fact that it will be a one-way-street because lord knows they’re not gonna ask what I’m up to.

When told to call the bride directly

The last 20 years of trauma will not be solved with one phone call. This was their last chance to prove to me they want me in their lives. It’s not about the dog. It’s the fact that all I asked is to be treated like a person and talked to directly, and they have proven to me they don’t care, so I’m leaving. I already did my job of reaching out to her and she said yes. Why is it my job to reach out and make sure she hasn’t changed her mind?

When told her father is an asshole and he is the one responsible for everything

THANK YOU! I have felt like the only one who cannot fathom how that conversation could be had over EMAIL?? It’s sadly not uncommon for them to communicate through him, and I always have the receipts after the fact when they’re no longer worried about the awkwardness. My brothers don’t even know where I work. I am building a career around my job. They couldn’t tell you what my relationship status is, and I’d be hard pressed to tell you if they knew my middle name to be honest. My father is not innocent, but they are responsible for their part in our relationship. I have stopped reaching out to them directly because I barely hear back, and it’s clear they don’t really care what I’m saying. I could honestly write a book on the road that’s led me to this choice, but who’s got the time in this economy?

Pupdate for Everyone Asking! Feb 6, 2024
He’s a 2.5 year old, Black and Tan Coonhound☺️
Dog tax
Update Feb 26, 2024
Original Story Here:
https://www.reddit.com/TrueOffMyChest/s/2MfJ98m6kP
POST-WEDDING UPDATE!
So, I went to the wedding. It went about how I expected it to go, though one can never be ready for a spontanious conga line. Sadly, there was no secret last minute invite, nor any secret plot of which the bride was unaware. She felt bad saying no, so she lied, and she didn’t want to tell me that, and she still didn’t, even at the wedding. No one really said much at all, in fact. The mother of the bride did not speak to me at all, my brother tiptoed around the subject until the end of the night. To his credit, he did apologize, “for all the dog stuff” as he said goodbye. Strangely, the apology didn’t make me feel much better.
There was no big confrontation either, mainly because no one cared to listen to me if I tried. As the reception began, part of me wondered how much I was going to miss the people, the environment, the vibe, really. Truthfully, I surprised myself with how ready I was to leave. Goodbye was short, and bittwersweet.
The venue was pretty and the alcohol was free, so I made the best of my night, but I got what I needed out of it, I think. Getting home tonight felt like a weight lifting off my shoulders. I know more than ever that I need to do this, and what I once saw as cutting my family in half, I can now see is clearing space for new family, one that cares.
Thank you for all your kind words, and all the support for my dog!
Arrogance is Bliss March 25, 2024
You don’t love me.
You love an idea of me you fabricated in your mind when I was a child.
I’m no longer a child.
I’m far from perfect, but I’m growing, I’m glowing, and I’m grieving the reality that none of you will ever know the person I become.
You call it love, but my scars disagree.
You hate my hair, my style, my beliefs—you hate me.
And the saddest part is, I don’t even think you know you do.
THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP
DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7

For context, I was at a small special education school at the time. In 2020, I (20M at the time) had a crush on this woman (20F at the time) who I'll be calling E. In December, we finally admitted we liked each other and we decided to make it "official." As someone who had never had a gf at the time, this seemed normal. I didn't know how dating worked and my diagnosed social anxiety makes it especially difficult. I was so happy to have someone who liked me. It turned out that she was a manipulative pos.
After around two weeks, I texted "hey babe." A few messages later, what stated as an innocent "hi" resulted in "I can't do this anymore" and that she was only with me to make up for her lack of self-love and so on. After I asked if she was breaking up and she said "I'm sorry." Then she blocked me.
A month later, she apologized and tried to be my friend again. Unlike previously, I decided to take time to think instead of immediately crawling back to her. A week later, she starts to show her true colors. She gets another bf that she never shut up about for MONTHS, and was clearly trying to get to me.
For additional context, I've also been writing poems since late 2020. Mostly as a coping mechanism, but I wrote a total of 102 by the end of 2021. The second was about her and trying to empathize. Starting during early 2021, the school let me show one of my poems each week.
Flash forward to December, one year after the relationship started. I was showing my poems on Fridays and the first Friday that December so happened to be exactly one year after our "relationship" started. She bursts into homeroom announcing that she just broke up with her bf.
Enter revenge. On that day, 13 E poems later, I showed a poem about her to EVERYONE. The title was her name, but I changed it to "Daisy" and changed every place her name was in it. It was one of the few poem of her that showed any level of empathy. My friend read it out. Before he did, he asked me if I was sure I wanted to go through with it. I said yes, despite the fact that I was extremely anxious which was causing my hands to shake so badly that couldn't type. I tried to stall for a moment because E was getting her meds.
Eventually, I couldn't stall anymore and my friend read it. E came into the room when my friend was partway through. She sat down and immediately glanced at me. I was planning to wink when she inevitably looked at me but my social anxiety stopped me. After she looked away, her hand shot up. After my friend finished reading, E asked "who's Daisy?" My eyes were locked on the table in front of me as I simply replied "classified."
A couple weeks later, I show the poem that I wrote to empathize with her. This resulted in her throwing a temper tantrum, a common occurrence. She didn't directly say that the poem upset her, but it was pretty obvious to me. Nobody except my friend and a few teachers knew who "Daisy" was.
I had planned to show a month later that was more harsh. It was a duet called "I'm Sorry" where I paraphrased things she said to me for the first half, starting every sentence with "I" with an aggressive rebuttal from. It was still read, but unfortunately classes changed that week and so she never heard that one. I wish she was the had because her reaction would've been priceless.
Since I failed to place the final nail in the coffin, this wasn't the most pro revenge, but it was so close so I thought I'd share.

By this, I mean not specific reminders ("hands close to keys"), fingerings, dynamics, but just comments on the piece, whether humorous or not.
I do this rarely, but have done it, mostly to amuse myself. Couple examples: "AAARGH!" over a really treacherous passage in the finale of Beethoven's op. 27/1 sonata, which I never did finish cleanly; "Sorry I killed you, Dad" in Brahms' "Edward" Ballade (op. 10/1) at the return of the opening material (referencing the poem that inspired the Ballade) "HERE BE DRAGONS" over the scary passage in Chopin's Ballade 4 with the torrent of double-notes in the right and octaves in the left (and it doesn't get any easier from there on out) "Bad guys walk into the bar" in the minor-key section of Scott Joplin's "Bethena–A Concert Waltz"
Share your own examples!

This post has the title corrected, it is not an attempt at spam. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Yes, some of you may have seen my previous post asking for advice for a RoomHacks editor. I make this publication because, in truth, I believe that for a single person it is quite difficult to achieve this.do so much (and more for someone who is going to start. The program is very good, although I get confused with quite a few things and need time to learn)
What I'm great at is inventing and writing history, one that is emotional and compassionate, but at the same time has a good happy ending (obviously normal PMDs have those characteristic sad/happy endings, which are great). On the other hand, I can understand that many are distrustful, since perhaps they only work with people they trust. However, to give you an example, I can say that I have written some librettos for opera (one of them commissioned), works in verse, such as poems and some romantic songs.
I apologize if my request sounds very shameless, or even if I don't see the right to ask where I could find a partner. I beg you not to think badly, I would really like to embark on such an experience. If you want to know the synopsis (what I will do in Fanfic), I leave it below:
A long time ago, Arceus, father of all Pokémon and lord of the Universe, released a powerful energy never seen before: the Aurel. In that way, the celestial vault of the world could support the weight of the entire cosmos, granting life, peace and health to the inhabitants of the planet. One fine day, Xerneas and Darkrai (sons of Arceus), faced each other in a fierce battle whose reason remains in the deepest darkness... It is This caused a fatal imbalance in the vault, leaving it severely damaged. Everyone tried to stop them, but in the end there was a ceasefire. However, as time passed, Arceus realized of this, but instead of showing his rage and anger, he decided to carry out a plan to fix it...
The natural disasters were many, but over time they ceasedwithout knowing that they were facing the one chosen by Arceus, but Darkrai's Fury was reborn, ready to defeat the God of Life once and for all.... Thus we reach our days, in which a human turned into Charmander fell into that new world... A Pokémon family adopted him as their own son,without knowing that they were facing the one chosen by Arceus... To save the world and stop both from a devastating new fight, in exchange for something very special: staying in the Pokémon world.
Let's see what you think.

I often think about this poem when coming to my own life crossroads....
https://soundgasm.networdsforthesoul01/The-Road-Not-Taken
The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

To be honest I don't know how I feel about my writing. I was hoping you guys could give some advise to help me improve. I'm new to writing longer fic, most of the stuff I wrote before is one shots and poems. Also English isn't my first language, so I'm in unfamiliar territory.

1. I'm kinda regretting writing my story in past tense. I think that present tense would have been better, reserving the past tense for my flashbacks. Is it too late to change it? I mean it would mean having to rewrite the whole fic. The problem is I altered posted 6 chapters and I'm worried it would mess it up. What do you think, should I do it. Would I loose readers? I don't want to have to repost the whole fic, because I would loose all my comments and kudos. what is the best choice here?
2. From what I learned in school and from the advice I read online, show don't tell is one of the most important rules of writing. However that is my exact problem. When I read my stuff I get the feeling like my writing is too dry and not descriptive enough and my beta agrees with me, but every time I try to be descriptive it comes off as flowery and it just feels like it was written by other people. How can I add more descriptive elements without sounding too flowery?
3. On that same note, my beta said that I tend to over explain scenes like for example in one chapter of my fic, there are several scenes where one character refusing help due to being stubborn and not wanting to be a burden and and the other character being frustrated/feeling they are taken advantage and wanting to end the friendship. I was trying to show how their friendship slowly imploded and as such certain elements pop up again and again. My beta said that it was too repetitive and that readers are not idiots who can pick up on themes without being hit over the head with a hammer. She's right of cause, but to be honest I'm not sure I'm good at writing subtext. Do you guys have any resources or tips to help me improve in that area?

Edit: Please do not delete this post. Yes I posted it before, but deleted the post because I wanted to change the title and that wasn't possible after posting. I'm not trying to spam just get this post out. sorry for any inconvenience.

Hi everyone, this is my first post here.
Sorry that I'm not a native English speaker and just started to write poems in English, so there might be som grammatical or vocabulary mistakes. But I hope it might bring a little encouragement to some who is also struggling to live a sober life :)
*
I've almost forgotten how to step into a liquor store, the last and the only one on a Saturday afternoon. The maze I am familiar with always end here. Those bottles of molten iron will not solidify...
The streets' nerve trembles like a snake spitting out its tongue at the entrance, wetting what I once sought to protect. There
Is no victory here. Lush poverty or irresistible mess, left foot or right? The flow of people split the sidewalk, also separate me from life. My father and grandfather were like strangers turn around silently. They never said about death. They do not leave me more addresses. But I know It's not
Here. Something we've all lost, arranged like our regretful names.
When I return to this intersection, pull out the rusty screws that make dizziness a deep well. No, I'm not counting anymore, since I remember freedom or truth as uncountable. Not anymore.
*

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storm, story, straight, strange, stranger, strategic, strategy, stream, street, strength, strengthen, stress, stretch, strike, string, strip, stroke, strong, strongly, structural, structure, struggle, student, studio, study, stuff, stupid, style, subject, submit, subsequent, substance, substantial, substitute, succeed, success, successful, successfully, such, sudden, suddenly, sue, suffer, sufficient, sugar, suggest, suggestion, suicide, suit, summer, summit, sun, super, supply, support, supporter, suppose, supposed, Supreme, sure, surely, surface, surgery, surprise, surprised, surprising, surprisingly, surround, survey, survival, survive, survivor, suspect, sustain, swear, sweep, sweet, swim, swing, switch, symbol, symptom, system, table, tactic, tail, take, tale, talent, talk, tall, tank, tap, tape, target, task, taste, tax, taxi, tea, teach, teacher, teaching, team, tear, technical, technique, technology, teen, teenager, telephone, telescope, television, tell, temperature, 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weather, web, website, wedding, week, weekend, weekly, weigh, weight, welcome, welfare, well, west, western, wet, what, whatever, wheel, when, whenever, where, whereas, whether, which, while, whisper, white, who, whole, whom, whose, why, wide, widely, widespread, wife, wild, wildlife, will, willing, win, wind, window, wine, wing, winner, winter, wipe, wire, wisdom, wise, wish, with, withdraw, within, without, witness, woman, wonder, wonderful, wood, wooden, word, work, worker, working, workout, workplace, works, workshop, world, worried, worry, worth, would, wound, wrap, write, writer, writing, wrong, yard, yeah, year, yell, yellow, yes, yesterday, yet, yield, you, young, your, yours, yourself, youth, zone.

I (f, 22) just wanted to vent somewhere people will actually understand. I’ve been dealing with GP for about 4 years now and finally got diagnosed last year, i had the botox injection in september and was in hospital for around a month, didn’t have to go back to a&e at all until the end of march where it all started happening again. for the first time in years i actually felt free and i was able to live as close to a normal life as i could, obviously being careful in what i ate and portion size but pretty much had freedom to eat what i wanted when i wanted and it just made me feel somewhat like a normal person.
since the end of march i’ve been in and out of hospital, i had another round of botox early april but that didn’t seem to help and the doctors couldn’t explain why, they said maybe it wasn’t injected in the right place or they didn’t use enough, they honestly were nearly as clueless as i was. in the end they decided to repeat the botox, that was just over a week ago. i was sent home the same day, had to go back to a&e later that evening, was sent home 2 days later and again was back in a&e that same evening. i’ve now been kept as an inpatient for a week and i’m still finding it hard to eat/drink without being sick and feeling really intense stomach pain, it gets to the point where i’m rolling around, crying and screaming in pain. doctors don’t seem to do much at all other than keep me on regular IV cyclizine and metoclopramide for sickness, subcutaneous morphine injections for the pain and a sliding scale to manage my T1DM.
when i was healthy for that october-march period i’d managed to gain some weight and was around 50kg, a week ago i was back to the godforsaken 46kg i seemed to always be stuck at before, and now i’ve gone down to 43kg which has been really disheartening and has taken a toll on my mental health. i felt i was doing so well, not only had i gained weight but also muscle, i was exercising more than i ever could have before and even walking 10-12km a day, now i can barely walk down the hall without feeling drained. i managed to get a job which i was doing quite well at and it was my first job, at 22, because i could never get hired before due to being so unreliable with my condition, luckily they understand what i have to deal with as it is my boyfriend’s family business.
i don’t know, everything is just making me feel really down and depressed and all i want is to be able to go home and go back to my life. staff at hospital also don’t help, the majority are nice but i still get comments from certain nurses who accuse me of faking to get medication or who complain when i’m crying as i’m “disturbing others” when there’s nothing i can do. i hate the way my body looks again, i hate the gap between my thighs and how i can see my ribs and bony shoulders. i hate my arms even more, all the bruises and needle marks from blood tests and IV drips, it makes me look like a junkie and i find myself crying because of it a lot.
i’ve been referred to another hospital for a consultation regarding a G-POEM but still haven’t heard from them yet. it’s just getting to the point where i’m feeling so hopeless and helpless. i’ve also been put back on anti depressants and taking diazepam regularly to help with the anxiety and distress it all causes.
at home i smoke weed, a decent amount, which helps with my appetite and also helps with my mental health struggles but obviously being in hospital i haven’t been able to smoke which makes everything so much worse as i don’t have anything to distract myself from what’s happening. some days smoking is the only thing that will get me to eat and keep me from having anxiety toward food.
my boyfriend (m, 29) and his family have been really supportive and they’re pretty much the only reason i haven’t spiraled into a full on mental health crisis, he visits nearly everyday and so does his mother who has been such a huge support for me as my own family aren’t there for me. i actually asked my mother if she would come visit me, i knew she wouldn’t, but i did it anyway, she came up with a bullshit excuse as to why she couldn’t and that nearly broke me because i was already feeling so low and on top of that i then felt rejected by my own mother, i should’ve known better but at that moment i just needed my mom. the one who came through for me that day was my boyfriend’s mom who came to see me as soon as she found out how upset i was, she held me, she let me cry and hugged me so tightly and reassured me i was loved and cared for. she’s truly been the mother i needed through this.
i know that i can be somewhat healthy and live almost normally, but right now things are just so bleak and i’m struggling to see a way out, all i want is to just be normal, it’s all i’ve wanted my entire life and it’s like no matter what i will never get that. i’ve had T1DM since i was 9 with 2 diabetes related comas under my belt by age 10, PTSD, depression, and anxiety since 12, and the GP since i was 18, it’s like i can’t catch a break. no one understands what it’s like but i keep getting told “i get it” or “i relate to that” and i know people are trying to make me feel better but to me it just comes across as diminishing what i’m going through and have been going through for so long. I was also recently told just how bad my GP is and i just couldn’t stop crying for hours, i was always told it was ‘severe’ but now i know that i have 96% retention after 4 hours and all it did was make me feel even more hopeless.
sorry for the long post, i just really don’t know where else to go where people might ACTUALLY understand what i’m going through