Ok, to my zepsister who was talking about finding a dress…..: every thing sucks!!! I had an Amazon return at Kohls. I looked at the dresses they have.
Holy crap the fabric was horrible, the patterns makes you look like a table cloth and the fit/shape is 🤢🤢🤢
Then you see the xs-m-l looking so damn cute. The cut is perfect and the colors and patterns tht mimick the plus size looks way better 😒
Ok one clothes and the quality have tanked 2. Designers fail to understand tht plus size girls (and guys!! Can’t forget the guys) have money to spend too. We want to look good too. 3. Please for the love of Kermit the Frog use all the damn fabric to have the shirt cover my arse and front area (navel to the knee or mid thigh!!!) 4. Stop using fabric with patterns so gaudy we look like a table cloth, traffic sign, potted plants or a milk jug.
I am hoping to slowly trickle back to those sizes. Until then I’m stuck with this nonsense
I will go to Nordstrom’s or JCP and where but good lord

The pain was the worst thing`Dominick Mason had ever known…and he knew what it felt like to die. It felt like his brain was in a blender, being chopped to liquid for a Jeffery Dahmer smoothie and though it seemed melodramatic, he imagined he could feel himself losing brain cells by the minute. The sun, Merrick told him, would not burn him, but it would decay him faster, so sleep or rest during the day. With the sick, throbbing agony in the center of his brain, however, that was impossible. He spent most of the day curled up on his side, hugging his knees, and moaning. He had flashbacks to dying in his apartment, and that made things even worse. The room became too small, too close, the air too stale. His heart, filled with the blood of last night’s meal, pounded in his chest, and he went from slightly chilly to hot and feverish as blood was forced through his circulatory system. It mixed with the embalming fluid and left him feeling full and constipated. He didn’t want to get up, but he also didn’t want to go on lying there. He was the definition of miserable.
Before long, the pain became too great and he got up to pace, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and gritting his teeth. Merrick, who slept very little if at all, sat in his chair and watched, trying his best to talk him through it. “It’ll be over soon,” Merrick said. “The pain receptors in your brain are the first to go. When they burn out, you won’t feel anything.”
“When?” Dom asked, his voice raising with the tide of pain.
“A couple days?”
“A couple days???”
“The pain will lessen gradually,” Merrick said, “this is the worst of it.”
Dom believed that this was, indeed, the worst of it, but he doubted it would lessen gradually. For the rest of the day, the pain got worse and worse until every light blinded him, every sound turned his stomach, and the smell of anything made his gorge rise. The cloying smell of the embalming fluid, the light but unmistakable odor of dead flesh, and the scent of stale blood sitting in decomposing stomachs made him want to vomit, but he was afraid to. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of blood rushing from his mouth and splattering the floor. He still possessed enough of his facilities, he believed, to go insane.
Pain has a way of darkening one’s mood, and by the time the sun began to set, Dom was in the most sour mood possible. Even Merrick’s calm, fatherly voice was beginning to get on his nerves. When he took the oath to him the day before (or was it the day before that?), he turned his faith and trust over to Merrick entirely. He was finally accepted, included, finally had the love and fellowship that, in the pit of his soul, he had always wanted. Merrick understood him, Merrick was kind to him.
But deep down, Dom realized that he didn’t fully trust him. He said that his brain didn’t rot because he was “lucky.” That sounded like some bullshit to Dom. Why wasn’t Joe a blithering idiot too? Was he lucky as well? Did lightning strike in the same place twice? In life, people had done nothing but hurt and lie to Dom. Why would death be any different? He thought back to the strange liquid that always seemed to leak from Merrick’s nose, and Joe’s. He thought it was embalming fluid, but it never leaked from his own nose, or from anyone else’s. He tried to tell himself that it was far too soon to judge, but once he began to doubt something, his mind raced away. He felt a twinge of guilt, as Merrick had done absolutely nothing to deserve his doubt, but goddamn it, his head was on fire and he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.
Just after sundown, the music began as Club Vlad opened for the night. It throbbed in the center of Dom’s head and made him want to claw his eyes out. When it became too much for him, he slipped away and stumbled into the sultry summer night. He came out in the alley running behind the club, clutching his head and breathing through bared teeth. He staggered, bumped into a metal trash can, and roared at the top of his lungs, as if he could purge himself of the pain by screaming.. His voice echoed and came back to him, making the pain worse.
Merrick was lying. He knew it. People always lied to him. His brain was rotting and PEOPLE WERE LYING! Flashing with anger, he slammed his fist into the brick wall of a Chinese restaurant. He barely felt anything so he did it again and again until his hand was lumpy and shaking. He sat heavily on the ground and pressed his hands to his head. It felt like maggots were burrowing into his brain, and he was suddenly terrified that they really were. He needed to stop this awful pain, but how?
An idea came to him.
The funeral home.
Maybe there was something there.
He was on his feet and lumbering there before the thought had even finished reverberating through his mind. It was a long shot, but he was desperate. On the way there, he stuck to the shadows, staying out of the light cast by the streetlamps and avoiding people. When he passed them, he kept his head down. When he reached the funeral home, he went to the back door where he and Jessie had gone the other day. He tried it, and it opened.
Inside, he bounced off the walls like a pinball, knocking over an end table and tearing at the flesh of his head, pulling it away in long, gray strips. He panted like a wild animal, his body a raging tempest of emotions. It was reaching a crescendo, he thought, his brain was about to go supernova. The world dimmed, things got really echoy. The young man he’d picked the embalming fluid up from was there, looking scared.
Flashing, Dom grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, knocking a painting of a flowery field to the carpet. Everything seemed to go in slow mo. “How does Merrick keep his brain from rotting?” Dom heard himself demanding from far away. “How does he keep the pain away?”
The man trembled. “I-I-”
Dom slammed him again. “Tell me or I’ll make you like me.”
“No!” the man wailed. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes wet with fear.
“How?”
“He-He uses a solution,” the man stammered. “Some kind of special thing. It preserves his brain. That’s all I know.”
An idea occurred to Dom.
Holding the man by the back of his neck, Dom dragged him into the embalming room and pushed him against the table. His head felt like it was swelling. Hot, screaming, getting ready to explode. He looked around, found the embalming machine, and grabbed the hose. There was a sharp tip on it so that you could jam it into a body. He held it in his hand, hesitating for just a moment before pressing it to his temple. The man watched in horror as Dom slowly shoved the tip into his head. It tore his flesh, broke through his skull, and sank into his brain. He felt no pain, only pressure, but cried out anyway. His eyes rolled up into his head and a shudder went through his body.
“Turn it on!” he yelled.
“That’s not what he -”
“TURN IT ON!”
Starting, the man turned the machine on. Cold embalming fluid squirted directly into Dom’s brain. Almost at once, the pain began to ebb away, replaced only by a fuzzy sense of numbness. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, looking for all the world like an addict taking a hit of his favorite substance after a long and trying day. Fluid leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes and dripped down the back of his throat.
The man waited for a long time, then turned the machine off.
The pain was gone.
At least for now.
“Tell me again,” Dom said.
The man did. Merrick used a special preserving agent to keep his brain intact. Joe, the man suspected, got it as well. So Merrick had lied to him.
Dom felt betrayed.
And angry.
Leaving the man (Dom realized that he didn’t even know his name), he walked back to Club Vlad, his hands fisted in his pockets. All his life, he had been hurt, lied to, and ignored. All his life, people had done wrong to him. And all those years, he just took it.
He resolved not to be so accepting in death.
At last, he was going to stop being a sniveling little bitch and stand up for himself.
When he reached Club Vlad, he slammed through the back door and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he called out Merrick’s name. The old man was sitting in his chair, being attended to by Jessie and Matt. He looked startled when Dom came in. “You lied to me,” Dom said, stalking over to his benefactor.
“What are you talking about?” Merrick asked, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You lied to me!” Dom screamed. He bent over and got so close to Merrick’s face that he could have kissed him. “You told me there was no way to save my brain, but that’s not true. You’re pumping your head full of shit and letting the rest of us rot.”
A dark shadow flickered across Merrick’s face. “Watch your tone when you talk to me,” he said. His voice was low, menacing.
“Fuck you,” Dom said. “I should k -”
Suddenly, Dom was being grabbed from behind and yanked back, an arm around his neck. He cried out in alarm as Joe swung him around and slammed him face first into the wall. He heard his nose crunch, felt his teeth shatter. Next, Joe wrestled him to the glitter-sprinkled floor and wedged his knee between his shoulder blades.
Merrick watched with a sneer of disgust, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He wheeled himself over, Jessie holding his IV stand steady and following behind. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Merrick said, “you’re lucky to be a part of this family.”
Cold fear filled the pit of Dom’s stomach, yet he wouldn’t back down, couldn’t back down. He had lived his entire life like a mouse in a burrow, he wasn’t about to live his entire death the same way.
“Fuck your family,” he said defiantly. “And fuck you.”
Merrick’s face darkened and he sat back in his chair. He looked at Jessie and nodded. She went away and came back a moment later holding something in her hand. Dom’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.
A wooden stake, one end honed to a razor point.
Why they had one of those lying around, Dom didn’t know; it’d be like Superman keeping a piece of kryptonite on the mantle over the fireplace. Merrick directed Max and Matt to hold Dom’s arms down/ Joe pivoted, kneeling on his head now so that Dom’s back was exposed. Dom’s heart slammed with terror and tremors raced through his body.
“Is this what you want, Dominick?” Merrick asked. “To die? To truly die?”
Dom swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to live, to love, to have a family one day. He wanted a happy, normal life, the life TV and social media had been promising him since he was a little boy.
But all of that went out the window the night he died in his little apartment. There was no life anymore, just a grotesque parody of life. What was there for him other than death? Clinging desperately onto life for decades like Merrick? Stuffing himself full of embalming fluid and moth balls? Grinding for one more minute just so he could sit hooked up to a machine?
Dom spoke.
“What?” Merrick asked, not having heard.
Dom licked his lips. “Just fucking do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Expectation hung in the air. Finally, breaking the tension, Merrick nodded to Jessie. Kneeling down, she brought the stake up, and Dom closed his eyes.
This was it.
He braced himself for death.
Jessie brought the stake down just as a shot rang out, deafening in the small space. Her head whipped back, embalming fluid, skull fragments, and gray, sickly pieces of brain showering from the back of her head. She flopped back and landed on the floor with a sickening thud.
A woman cop, her black uniform in stark contrast to the burning white light, stood in the doorway to the hall, her gun drawn. Everyone did, indeed, freeze, more out of surprise than respect for authority. They all looked at her, their dead mouths agape, resembling children who’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Everyone on the ground!” she barked.
No one knew what to do. They hadn’t expected to be raided by the police so had not prepared. She jerked her gun and everyone instinctively flinched. “On the ground!” she repeated. To Max: “You too, bone boy.”
The first one to react was Joe. He sprang at her like a big, undead frog. She brought the gun around and fired, but he was already crashing into her. The shot went wild and struck the IV bag next to Merrick; he ducked and let out a sound of fear. The others rushed her, and Dom got quickly to his feet. Jessie lay on the floor, her mouth open in a silent scream and her bony fingers frantically examining the ragged hole in the center of her forehead. For a moment, he was frozen; everything was happening too fast. Then, when Merrick saw him and cried, “Stop him!, he came alive. Jessie tried to grab at his leg, but he kicked her hand away and stomped on it like it was a giant spider. On the other side of the room, Matt, Joe, and Max had forced the cop to the ground. Perhaps excited by all the action, perhaps just hungry, they began to tear her apart. She howled in pain, and the last thing Dom saw before he fled was her open, blood-filled mouth. Her eyes were filled with pain…with terror.
After that, Dom ran.
***
When the interloper was dead, Merrick directed Joe and Matt to dispose of the body. “Get rid of it,” he said wearily and rubbed his temples, “make sure it isn’t found.”
They rolled her into a carpet from the office, and the way her feet stuck out may have been comical under other circumstances.
Goddamn it, this was bad. Merrick’s entire philosophy rested on avoiding detection. He had done well in that regard. Whereas other vampires had attacked their villages and gotten themselves dug from the ground and staked, he had made it four decades. He never shat where he ate, and there is no bigger turd than killing a cop. They might dawdle on all the boys who’d gone missing - taken because their blood was stronger and more robust than the blood of girls - but they would not take a cop dying lightly at all.
Merrick owned various businesses around the country. He and the others would simply move on. Tomorrow night, they would disappear into the night. They had done it before and they would likely do it again. Once things were settled at their new base of operations, he would have Joe killed for all the trouble he’d caused.
And Dom?
Let him go.
The little rat wouldn’t last a month on his own.
“Jessie?”
Jessie sat against the wall, gazing into space.
“Jessi…start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear. The shot had all but lobotomized her.
Damn it.
Joe backed the van up to the back door of Club Vlad, and then helped Matt carry the carpet-rolled body down the stairs. They loaded it in and closed the back doors. Together, they drove around looking for a place to dump it. Merrick wanted it to go unfound, but Joe doubted there was anywhere isolated enough in the city. On a whim, he drove to Washington Park, a vast expanse of green trees and shadows. There was a large pond there. It seemed the best option. They were leaving tomorrow anyway, so did it really matter?
Joe backed the van to a railing overlooking the dark water and put it in park. He and Matt got out, fetched the body, and carried it to the railing. They lifted and heaved it over. It splashed. Thus, they rid themselves of Vanessa Rodregiez.
***
Bruce sat anxiously up in his easy chair and waited for his cell to ring.
Parked in front of the TV by warm lamplight, a beer wedged between his legs, he’d been watching the 11’o’clock news when the phone rang. He picked it up and it was Vanessa. “Hey,” she said, “I think I found our body?”
“Which one?” Bruce asked and took a drink. “We have a lot of those these days.”
“Dominick Mason.”
Bruce sat forward in his chair. “Dead Dom? Where?”
“He just came out of a funeral home, ironically enough.”
“That sounds about right,” Bruce said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m following him east on Central.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Bruce asked.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
Bruce sat the phone aside and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At some point, he fell asleep sitting up, his head lulled to one side and his mouth open. He snorted himself awake, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He checked his phone and was perturbed to see that it was past 2am.
Vanessa hadn’t called.
He dialed her number and let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Sighing, he ended the call, then waited a few minutes and called again.
Still no answer.
It was possible she had forgotten. Maybe the guy turned out to not be Dead Dom after all. She followed some random guy around, realized it, and that was that. Hell, she was probably too embarrassed to call and tell him about it.
Something told him that wasn’t right, however.
There was something else going on here.
Something…darker.
Just before 3am, his phone rang. He snatched it off the end table next to the chair and answered it. It was Burt, the night sargent. “Rodriguez is missing,” he said simply.
Bruce’s heart sank. “Missing?”
“Yeah, she hasn’t checked in for hours and she isn’t answering calls.”
“I’m on my way,”
Bruce tore through the house, pulling on his uniform, socks, and shoes in less time than it took a Daytona 500 pit crew to service a car. In ten minutes he was speeding down 787, the Albany skyline rising in the distance. As he hurried to the station, he thought back to his last conversation with Vanessa. She’d found Dom the Dead Man, the “corpse” who’d scared Ed Harris out of a 20 year career. Despite all their talk about vampires and the living dead, Bruce didn’t believe it, not really. Even so, he was sure that Dominick Mason had done something to Vanessa.
He checked in at the station before doing anything else. They had triangulated Vanessa’s last known location via cell towers. Cops were already out searching the streets for her. Bruce went out as well, intending to start from her last known position and work his way east on Central. The closest funeral home was Tebbutt and Frederick on Central. There was also Lasak & Gigliotti on North Allen Street. Bruce didn’t know which one Vanessa had seen Dom come out of, so he checked both.
Both were deserted at this hour.
Undeterred, Bruce drove up and down Central Ave. At one point, he noticed a shape in an alleyway that looked human. He hit the brakes, jumped out, and pointed his gun at it. “Freeze!”
An old wino stepped out of the darkness. “Alright, you got me,” he said, hands up. “I started COVID. It was an accident, I swear.”
Bruce sighed and put his gun away.
For two more hours, Bruce searched the streets of Albany for Vanessa. At 4am, he spotted a squad car abandoned in the rear parking lot of an abandoned gas station on lower Lark Street. He called it in and the desk sergeant confirmed that it was the one Vanessa had signed out that night.
Still there was no sign of Vanessa herself.
Just after dawn, as the city came alive and CDTA buses began lumbering up and down the streets, Bruce got a call on his cell. “A jogger found a body in Washington Park.”
Bruce was in his personal car. He had no bubble light, no siren. Even so, he sped through the streets like he did, blowing through red lights and stop signs with little care to himself or anyone else. When he got to Washington Park, he found an army cops by the pond, the scene cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. He slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, and jumped out without even turning off the engine.
The body was rolled up in a carpet and lying on the bank. Two beat cops unrolled it at Bruce’s direction. “We should wait for -” one of them started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Do it.”
They compiled, and at the carpet’s center, like a rotten cream filling, was the body of Vanessa Rodregiuez. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide and staring. Her throat had been mangled and ripped away, her head nearly severed. Even in the black and red mess, Bruce could make out the teeth marks and puncture wounds. They may have looked like something else to anyone else who saw them, but he knew, in that moment, what they were dealing with.
A sharp pang of horror sliced through him, and his knees went weak.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the beat cops drew.
Bruce fell to, rather than knelt on, one knee. He bent over the body, a mixture of horror and grief welling his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her in death, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he visually examined the body. She had bruises on her face, defensive wounds on her hands, and her gun was gone. Whoever had attacked her, she put up a fight.
Something glinted on her pants.
“What’s that?” one of the cops asked.
“I dunno,” the other replied, “but it’s all over the carpet.”
Indeed, there were glinty little specks all over it, winking like mocking eyes. Nice work, eh? We really fucked her up, didn’t we? Wink wink.
“It looks like…”
The other cop cut him off. “Glitter.”
Bruce flashed back to his visit to Club Vlad the other day.
There had been glitter everywhere.
Bruce stood up.
He had work to do.
***
Instead of going back to the station to start his shift, Bruce went to Lowes. There, he bought a mallet, a gas can, and a dozen sticks of wood. An employee in a blue vest used a machine to sharpen them to a wicked point and he took his purchases to the car. Next, he drove over to the Mobil station and filled the gas can. He was so hellbent on revenge that he sprang for premium, the good stuff. No expense shall be spared.
His final stop was at a Catholic church. He filled a canteen with holy water from the marble font by the door, then swiped a crucifix from the wall. He stopped by the station, went inside, and grabbed a black duffle bag with POLICE written across the front in yellow. He opened the gun cabinet in his office, took out a shotgun, and loaded it with shells. He grabbed a handful from the box and stuffed them into his pocket.
He was just finishing up when Bertha came in. “There you are,” she spat, “I’ve waited long enough for you to do something. I demand -”
Bruce shoved the duffle bag into her arms. “Make yourself useful.”
“What?” she demanded.
“We’re going to get your granddaughter,” Bruice lied. Kind of.
Bertha’s demeanor changed. “Good. It’s about time. I was starting to think you were a complete incompetent.”
Bruce didn’t answer. Outside, he plucked the bag out of Bertha’s hands and tossed it into the backseat. He slipped behind the wheel and Bertha sat in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Club Vlad,” Bruce said and started the engine.
“I want all of them arrested.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said.
She barked orders the entire way there. Bruce was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard her. The image of Vanessa’s ruined throat and terror-twisted face haunted him, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back and forced himself to calm down.
I’ll cry when I’m done killing, he thought.
A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of Club Vlad. It was a hot and sunny day and the place seemed even more ominous because of it. The windows were black, the front cast in perpetual shadows by the old marquee from when it used to be a theater. The place was surely closed, but Bruce could hear music still playing from inside, some techno dance bullshit. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”
Getting out, he slung the dufflebag over his shoulder and carried the shotgun, the canteen full of holy water clasped to his belt. Bertha carried the gas can, looking confused. “Why do we need this?” she asked.
“We’re burning the place down.”
Bertha blinked in surprise…then an evil grin carved across her face. “That’ll show the bastards.”
Unlike last time, the door was locked. Bruce used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass, then reached inside and unlocked the door, being careful not to cut himself. This was the point of no return. What he had in mind would probably get him kicked off the force or even thrown in jail - and we all know how tough jail can be for a former barnaclehead. The memory of Vanessa’s contorted face pushed him on, however.
He’d suffer any consequences he needed to just so long as he got the sons of bitches who did this to her.
Inside, the club was cool and cave-like. Strobe lights flashed, on and off, black and white, dazzling Bruce’s eyes. The bartender was at his station, cleaning up from the night before. When he saw Bruce and Bertha come in, he started. Bruce pointed the shotgun at him. “Don’t fucking move,” he commanded.
The bartender hesitated, then reached for something under the bar.
The shotgun kicked in Bruce’s hands, and the bartender flew back, turning as he crashed into the barback. Bottles, glasses, and mugs crashed to the floor along with the bartender. Bruce racked the gun, and the shell flew out. He moved low and fast now, expecting to be swarmed by vampires, living thugs who worked for vampires, or vampire thugs who worked for themselves.
Though the shot had been like thunder, no one came.
Bruce had no idea where to go, but he imagined that vampires were naturally gravitate to the lowest part of the building. Was there a basement? Shit, he should have looked up the building plans at city hall. Damn, this is what happens when you go off half-cocked. He searched around a bit, opening doors and sweeping the rooms beyond with the shotgun. He found no basement, only stairs leading up. “Stay close,” he said to Bertha.
In the lead, Bruce crept up the stairs, the flashlight on the shotgun providing a cone of clean, white light. At the top of the stairs, he went right, and came to an office and a store room. Backtracking, and bumping into a bungling Bertha, he went into the next room. It was large and open with a vaulted ceiling, almost like a ballroom. Here the same strobe lights throbbed on and off, making him dizzy. Was this to dazzle prospective vampire hunters?
Either way, this was the place. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some curled up on their sides and others in the classic vampire pose: Flat on their backs with their hands laced over their chests. In the center, like the sun to the planets, Merrick Garvis lay slumped back in his wheelchair, his neck exposed for any potential assassin to come and cut. Not that it would kill him. At least Bruce didn’t think it would.
“They’re all dead,” Bertha whispered. She looked around and gasped. “There’s Jessie.”
Jessie lay on her back, her hands folded on her chest. She had a ragged bullet hole in the center of her forehead. “Oh, God,” Bertha wavered, “someone shot her.”
He hoped it was Vanessa. And he hoped it fucking hurt.
Looking around, Bruce couldn’t find Dominick Mason. Was he the one who killed Vanessa? Was it a group effort? He wanted the little son of a bitch bad, but it looked like he’d have to go on without him. They didn’t have much time.
Unshouldering the duffle bag, he knelt down and rummaged around. “Start splashing that gas on the bodies,” he said.
“But -”
“Just do it,” he snapped.
There must have been a harder edge in his voice than normal, because Bertha jumped and did as she was told. She upended the can and began to splash gasoline onto the sleeping forms, the smell of it acrid and strong.
Taking out a stake and the mallet, Bruce went over to Merrick and knelt down. He gripped the stake in one hand and placed it firmly against Merrick’s chest. He brought the mallet up and hesitated, the gravity of what he was doing finally reaching him. What if he was wrong? What if -
Merrick’s head whipped up and their eyes locked.
Too late.
Bruce brought the mallet down as hard as he could. The stake drove deep into Merrick’s heart, and the vampire let out a howling screech that rang through the chamber like the cry of a banshee. His bony fingers clawed at the stake and his head whipped from side to side, his back arching and his robe coming open. In the quick strobe pattern, Bruce was shocked to see that his body was little more than a wood frame, chicken wire, and cotton balls. His blacked heart was hidden behind a screen of mesh that the stake had easily torn through. It throbbed, seemingly in time with the strobe lights, and Merrick let out another wail.
Bertha screamed, and Bruce jumped to his feet.
The vampires, drawn by their master’s cries of distress, were rising to their feet. Two, four, six of them, pale and ethereal like ghosts in a gothic mansion. They came toward Merrick, and Bruice fell back a step. The old man had gone still and lay slumped to one side, his eyes open and his mouth slack, embalming fluid leaking from the corner of his lips. Jessie bent over him and touched his face. Though she moved like a zombie, with no human emotion, Bruce was crazily sure that it was a touch of tenderness and love. Merrick didn’t stir.
He was dead.
Jessie looked at him. Yellow liquid leaked from her eyes like tears. Instead of attacking him, she turned on her grandmother and slammed her against the wall. Bertha screamed and dropped the can. It landed on its side, its contents sloshing out onto the floor. A man that resembled the pictures Bruce had seen of Joe Rossi only deader rushed him, slamming into him and knocking the shotgun aside. It hit the floor and skidded away. Joe grabbed Bruce around the throat and squeezed. Still the lights flashed, off and on, off and on. The walls thrummed with the mechanized beat of dance music, pierced only by Bertha’s screams as Jessie ripped out her throat.
Joe leaned in, his fangs wicked and glowing in the light. Bruce clawed at the monster’s face, tearing away strips of dead flesh. Joe turned his head to the side, and Bruce kneed him in the groin. Even dead, getting kicked in the balls hurt like hell, apparently. Joe’s grip loosened and Bruce was able to shove him off. Bruce unclasped the canteen and frantically screwed the cap off as Joe recovered. Joe sprang at him again, and Bruce splashed him in the face.
A sound like sizzling meat filled the air, and Joe screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands to his face and danced around the room, his skin liquifying and oozing between his fingers. The others were coming now, led by a terrible skeletal thing. Bruce scooped the shotgun off the floor, brought it around, and fired. The blast hit the thing dead center, tearing it literally in half. The top half flew back, an all too human look of surprise on its face, and the bottom half fell over with a wet thud. Another vampire came at, and Bruce slammed it across the face with the butt of the gun. He heard its jaw crack, saw teeth flying.
Bertha lay dead on the floor, Jessie bent over her. The smell of Bertha’s blood attracted the others, who seemed to forget about Bruce, Merrick, and everything else. Joe was on his knees, wailing in pain, and the skeletal thing was pulling itself toward Bertha. A feeding frenzy broke out as vampires fought to get a piece of her the way piglets might fight over their mother’s teat. Bruce watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, but recovered himself. He grabbed the gas can from the floor and dumped the rest of its contents on Merrick’s body, the feeding vampires’ backs, and the floor, using the last of it to make a little trail to the door. He tossed the can aside, bent down, and stuck a match.
A huge, fiery whump filled the room, and fire streaked along the trail. The vampires all went up in a huge ball of flames, and fire shot up Merrick’s body, catching his robe, his hair, and the wooden frame that had kept him semi upright for God knows how long. Letting out inhuman screams, the vampires broke from Bertha’s corpse. One stumbled around, bounced off the wall, and fell; another toddled toward Bruce before falling to its knees. The half skeleton kept drinking from Bertha’s neck even as it burned.
The heat was enormous, baking. Bruce backed away, and the last thing he saw before smoke obscured his vision was Merrick Garvis.
He was literally melting.
***
Dominick Mason tried to go home, but he no longer had a home. All of his worldly possessions sat on the sidewalk in front of his building, discarded coldly as easily. His key didn’t work in his door and there was a FOR RENT sign on it. Why would it be any other way? He was dead. Sooner or later, everyone forgets you when you’re dead, and all the things you held so dear wind up in the trash. It was a hard pill to swallow, but most people aren’t around to see it after they die.
He was.
From his building, he walked east toward Washington Park. In the distance, thick, black smoke billowed into the air, and sirens rose. He barely noticed and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No more rubbernecking for him. That was for the living.
The pain that had plagued him so the previous day came back, only less this time. Maybe he was imagining it, but it was getting harder to think. Not that he cared, really. What was there to think about anyway? How he had no one to mourn or miss him? How he died and not one single person, except for maybe his mother, cared, or even noticed? How he had done nothing with his life? Even to the women he’d slept with, what was he? Just another dating app hookup. They probably didn’t even remember his name.
Merrick had been right about one thing. Death was easy. It was life that was hard…life that hurt.
With that in mind, Dominick made his way to Washington Park. It was a vast and deep place with many small caves and thickets. Kids played on the playground, their cries of laughter scenting the still air. It had grown cloudy and began to rain. Still, smoke poured into the sky in the direction of Club Vlad. Dom didn’t wish ill on Merrick and the others, didn’t hope it was them burning. He didn’t care anymore. Not about them, not about anyone. For better or worse (and he would argue it was worse), his life was over. His time came days ago, he just missed the boat.
Picking out an isolated little area, Dom sat against a tree with his legs splayed out in front of him. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, thinking was hard now. His mind felt sluggish, cold. He was thirsty…so, so thirsty, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the bugs found him. Flies buzzed around him and laid their eggs in his skin. Beetles scuttled over him, followed by worms.
Next, it was the birds. They ate out his eyes and nibbled at his blue, bloated skin.
The animals came last.
Their appetites were bigger.
And they left little remaining of poor, outcast Dominick Mason.
***
That night, Bruce sat alone in his little trailer, a bottle of whiskey wedged between his legs and unshed tears in his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the darkened TV set and took long swallows from the bottle. He planned to drink until he forgot or passed out, whichever came first. He tried to not think about Vanessa, but in his addled state, he couldn’t control himself, and began to cry. When that storm passed, like the others before it, he chugged from the bottle.
As distant church bells clanged the hour - midnight - a feeble knock came at the door. Bruce took another drink and it came again. Getting up, he stumbled, nearly fell, and gripped the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.
Again, the knock.
“I’m coming,” Bruce slurred. He staggered to the door and fought with the lock. He was dizzy and seeing double.
When he got it, he opened the door.
The bottle dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor.
Vanessa, clad in a puke green hospital gown, stood on the step, her hands pressed to her chest and a look of anguish on her milk white face. Her head tilted to one side, the wounds on her neck cleaned but open, gaping. Her dark eyes shone with tears. “I’m dead,” she said.
Breaking down in tears, she collapsed against him and they sank to the floor. She was cold and smelled. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest anyway. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he said drunkenly. “Hey, it’s alright.
“I’m dead,” she repeated, and her voice broke. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce held her close, trying to warm her icy skin. He didn’t know what to say, so he cried with her.
“You’re safe now,” he said, “it’s going to be okay.”
“I want blood,” she said and sobbed harder, “I want to hurt people.”
“Shhh,” Bruce said again. “It’s okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a utility knife. He flicked the blade across his wrist and searing pain shot up his arm. “Here,” he said and offered her his blood, “drink this.”
He did this without care and without thought. She needed him, and one barnaclehead always backs up another.
Vanessa hesitated, looking from his face to the oozing blood, unsure.
“Go ahead,” he told her.
Vanessa brought his wrist to her mouth.
And began to drink.

This is the first time I have written some chapters. I'm not a native English speaker but I did my best. If someone can give me some pointers or help I would immensely appreciate it! It's a bit of sci-fi, if you are into it let me know. If not, that's cool too.
Thx in advance!
Chapter 1: The farm
Hagr stood at the edge of the farm, his gaze fixed on the vast expanse of Zandarius stretching out before him. The sky above was a canvas of swirling purples and blues, streaked with the faint glow of distant stars. A cool breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the enticing scent of Heyla flowers.
With a sigh, Hagr set down his mechanic wheelbarrow, the last of his chores for the day completed. He began to make his way back towards the farm, his footsteps crunching softly against the rocky terrain. As he passed through the pink and green garden, the aroma of his mother's porridge drifted towards him, tempting his hunger.
Despite eating the same meal every day, Hagr's stomach grumbled with anticipation. The suuka porridge was all he needed right now, its warm, comforting embrace promising to chase away the chill of the evening.
Arriving at the farm, Hagr took in the familiar sight of their plascrete igloo. Half of the structure was comprised of little octagon windows, through which the warm glow of a fire emanated from the chimney. It was home, humble yet comforting in its simplicity.
Entering the igloo, Hagr found his mother, Altha, bustling about the kitchen, preparing dinner. "Hagr, dear, could you set the table?" she called out, her voice gentle yet firm. Hagr nodded, a small smile playing at his lips as he arranged the mismatched dishes in their usual places. Each plate was different, yet they always ended up in the same spot, a testament to the routines of their daily life.
Once the table was set, Hagr ignited the moonlamp, casting a soft yellow glow across the igloo walls. Altha emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot of suuka porridge. "Careful, Hagr," she warned, as she placed the pot on the table. "It's hot." Hagr nodded as he heard this many times before, his mouth watering at the sight and smell of the hearty meal before him. They ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of spoons against bowls as they savored each mouthful.
After a moment, Hagr broke the silence, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Do you ever wonder what's beyond Zandarius, Mumu?" he asked. Altha hesitated, her expression guarded. "I don't know, Hagr," she replied softly. "But we have everything we need right here on the farm." Though disappointed by her response, Hagr nodded in understanding. Perhaps someday they would have the chance to explore together. Altha caught his eye and winked, a small glimmer of hope in her gaze.
As they finished their meal, Hagr and Altha moved to the small kitchen area to wash the dishes. The kitchen was cluttered yet cozy, with shelves overflowing with pots, pans, and utensils. Beyond the kitchen, the interior of the igloo was a snug retreat from the harshness of the outside world. A small cupboard, crafted from Zandarius rare Bennam wood, stood in one corner, its doors closed tight to conceal its overflowing contents. Nearby, a plush couch with pillows offered a comfortable spot to relax after a long day's work. Opposite the couch, a large hammock hung from the ceiling. Above it, a smaller hammock swayed gently in the breeze, providing a cozy nest for Hagr during the night. Every inch of space was utilized to its fullest, creating a sense of warmth and intimacy within the cramped confines of the igloo.
As the hour grew late, Altha reminded Hagr of their upcoming journey to Kihar. With a yawn, Hagr climbed into his hammock, gazing up at the stars through the little octagon windows above. "Goodnight, Hagr," Altha whispered, her voice soft in the quiet of the night. "Goodnight, Mumu," Hagr replied, his eyes closing as sleep overtook him. And with that, he drifted off, thoughts of tomorrow's journey fading into the comforting embrace of dreams.
Chapter 2: The trip
Hagr awoke to the gentle light filtering through the little octagon windows of their igloo. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he glanced around and noticed that his mother's hammock was empty. Mu-mu?" he called out, but there was no response.
Curiosity piqued, Hagr peered outside and spotted his mother tending to the kikkamoos, their pig-like creatures with reptilian legs and Fluffy tails. With a swift motion, he leaped out of bed, his movements practiced from years of experience. After quickly dressing himself, he hurried outside, calling out to his mother. "Altha!" he yelled, using her full name in his urgency. His mother turned towards him with a warm smile. "Haggie!" she called back, using his pet name.
Hagr wasted no time and dashed off to fetch Tsjoopa, their trusty mechanical unicycle cart already loaded with goods for trade. As he returned with the cart, he found his mother waiting back at the farm. "Ready to go, Hagr?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Absolutely!" Hagr exclaimed, brimming with energy. And so, they set off on their journey to Kihar, the nearest town for trading.
The road ahead seemed endless, traversing through vast and barren plains broken only by occasional patches of vegetation. Sparse woods flanked the roadside, offering concealment but little wildlife, a testament to Zandarius' unforgiving environment.
After a few hours of travel, they finally reached a landmark known as the Sharp Knives, a crossroad marked by sharp rocks jutting out of the ground. "We’re here, the Sharp Knives," Altha remarked, her gaze sweeping over the rugged terrain. "We're halfway there, Hagr." Hagr nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Already? Time flies when you're in good company." A mischievous glint sparkled in Altha's eyes as she reached into the cart. "Speaking of good company, I brought something special for our halfway mark." Hagr's interest was piqued. "What is it?" With a dramatic flourish, Altha revealed a small container of sosuuka, a sweeter version of yesterday's porridge. "Sosuuka!" Hagr exclaimed, trying to sound enthusiastic despite his familiarity with the dish. Altha chuckled at his feigned excitement. "I thought it might be a nice treat for our journey." Hagr grinned, playing along. "Absolutely! Thanks, best mumu on Zandarius." Lost in thought, Altha gazed into the distance, her attention drawn to the gathering ominous clouds on the horizon, a harbinger of stormy weather to come. "We might have some rough weather ahead," Altha remarked, her voice tinged with concern. Hagr glanced up at the darkening sky. "Should we stop and wait it out?" Altha shook her head. "We need to keep moving. We can't afford to delay our journey." Guess we'll have to save the view for another time," Hagr sighed, reluctantly agreeing with Altha's decision, while she nodded in understanding. "But, after all," Hagr declared, puffing out his chest with a hint of pride, "at ten years old, I'm practically a grown man! I can handle anything, even eating sosuuka on the way without spilling a drop." Altha burst into laughter at his boast. "Sosuuka without spilling? I'd sooner believe kikkamoos could fly!" Hagr joined in her laughter, the sound echoing across the desolate landscape as they continued on their journey to Kihar.
Chapter 3: Arrival in Kihar
As Hagr and Altha approached Kihar, the plascrete town sprawled out before them, its streets winding like intricate mazes through the heart of the city. In stark contrast to the barren landscape of Zandarius, Kihar was a vibrant tapestry of life, with lush vegetation adorning every corner. Hagr’s eyes roamed over the cityscape, taking in the sight of the bustling alleys and the constant mist of smoke that hung in the air. Despite having visited many times before, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the bustling energy of the tradetown.
As they ventured deeper into the heart of the city, the tantalizing aroma of food mingled with the sounds of chatter and laughter, tempting Hagr's senses and reminding him of the porridge-filled days back on their farm. Finally, they reached the local market, a bustling hub of activity where traders hawked their wares amidst the thick scent of spices and exotic foods. "First stop, Old Taramor's," Altha announced, her voice carrying above the din of the market. Hagr's thoughts drifted to Taramor, the old, grumpy trader who had been a fixture in Kihar for as long as he could remember. Despite his rough exterior, Taramor was one of the few honest traders left in the city, and Hagr had always respected him for it. "Sounds good to me," Hagr replied, his tone positive.
As they approached Old Taramor’s, Altha hopped off the Tsjoopa and turned to Hagr. "Hagr, could you fetch a crate of Heyla bottles from the back of the cart?" she asked. Hagr nodded silently, already moving to comply.
Entering the shop, they found Taramor snoozing behind his counter, the cluttered shelves and dusty displays a testament to his lack of care for his surroundings. Altha hesitated, reluctant to disturb the old trader, but time was of the essence. "Taramor," she whispered, her voice barely audible. No response. Again a bit louder this time “Taramor”. Still no response. Growing impatient, Hagr couldn't help but raise his voice. "Taramor!" Startled awake, Taramor shot upright, his eyes wide with surprise. "What the hell's going on?" he grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Oh, it's just you two," he muttered, recognizing Altha and Hagr. Altha gestured to Hagr to take a look around while she spoke with Taramor. Hagr nodded and wandered through the cluttered shelves, his curiosity piqued by the assortment of strange and exotic items on display. In the background, a television played the news, the volume turned low but still audible. A news reporter's voice cut through the air, reporting on the recent assassination of a high-ranking official. The military had already neutralized one suspect, but two others were still at large. The camera footage showed two figures cloaked in dark red and black, their faces obscured. Zooming in on one of the suspects, the reporter noted a tattoo of a three-headed monster on their neck, linking them to the notorious syndicate known as the Three-Headed Beast. "People are urged to remain vigilant," the reporter concluded, "and to report any sightings of the suspects to the authorities." "Hagr," Altha called out, pulling him from his thoughts. Quickly, he set down a strange-looking coffee maker he had been inspecting and hurried over to join them.
Outside, Hagr turned to his mother, concern etched on his face. "How did the trade go?" Altha hesitated before answering, her tone guarded. "It wasn't as successful as we had hoped, but we'll manage." Trying to sound confident, Hagr responded, "No need to worry, Mumu. We'll make it work."
As they made their way back through the bustling market, Hagr glanced at his mother. " Can we get some Uja skewers now?" Altha smiled warmly. "Absolutely, Hagr. Let’s grab some delicious Uja," she said, turning on their trusty, albeit rusty, Tsjoopa.
Chapter 4: Best place is home
As Altha and Hagr made their way home in the fading light, a bird soared above them, its silhouette dark against the dusky sky. They were nearing their farmstead, the exhausting trip almost at an end. Hagr turned to Altha, his curiosity piqued. “What is coffee?” he asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. Altha pondered for a moment before responding, “I’ve heard of it. It’s some sort of black drink. Similar to Puggatree juice, they say, it gives you energy.” Hagr wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had never been fond of Puggatree juice, finding its thick texture and slimy consistency unappealing. With a shake of his head, he decided he didn’t want to try coffee after all.
As they chatted, unaware of the figure watching them from afar, the landscape growing darker with each passing moment, they finally arrived at the farm.
Altha unloaded the traded goods from the Tsjoopa, and with a nod to Hagr, she motioned for him to stow it away in the barn. Hagr complied, placing the Tsjoopa in the barn, where sturdy plascrete walls and reinforced wooden beams protected it from the harsh winds. With the task done, he made his way back to the igloo. As he approached, he noticed that the interior was unusually dark, the comforting glow of the moonlamp absent. With a sense of unease gnawing at him, he entered cautiously.
To his horror, he found himself face to face with a cloaked figure in dark black and red, his alien eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. Before he could react, he spotted his mother on the floor, tears streaming down her face, with another figure standing over her, a scarred human face, and a sinister three-headed beast tattoo on his neck. “Mumu!” Hagr screamed in terror. The figure with glowing eyes uttered incomprehensible words, while the scarred man cursed, "We can't leave any witnesses, Deskva.” Altha whispered urgently, "Hagr, stay calm. Everything will be fine." Hagr looked at his mother in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest. "What's going to happen?" his voice trembled with fear. The scarred human scoffed, "We can sell the boy on the black market, but the woman? She's too old to bother selling. Not worth the hassle, Des." With brute force, Deskva grabbed Hagr, who fought against his captor with all his might. "Please, let me go!" Hagr pleaded, his voice desperate as he struggled against Deskva's grip. As Hagr cast a desperate glance at his mother, tears welling in his eyes, the scarred man turned his attention to Altha, deeming her of no value. Without hesitation, he drew his pistol, aimed, and fired, the shot piercing through Altha’s skull with a sickening thud echoing through the silent igloo. Hagr’s world shattered as he watched his mother fall, tears blurring his vision, bile rising in his throat. Before he could comprehend what was happening, a brutal blow to his head sent him spiraling into darkness.

A really well respected endo specialist among my local patient community is referring me to have a tilt table venogram done to rule out PCS. I am nervous about the can of worms this opens up as I feel like I just got a handle on the steps of getting a higher standard of care regarding endo.. also began talking to a fertility specialist which we are definitely going to be needing the assistance of. It just seems like as I try to run to the light at the end of this medical system tunnel it winds into a more labyrinthian structure and I'm losing time / hope/ my mind.
One question I have to help myself mentally prepare, for anyone who has experienced PCS or related conditions.. did birth control help your symptoms? I know that is a crap shoot with endo, but I was completely able to keep myself in remission skipping my period on the Nuvaring for many years. My main symptom pattern was 5 days of excessive pain on my left side following the end of my period (things are slightly more off the map now as I'm on and off of bc). Just wondering if this tracks with people who've had this condition so I can begin to feel more mentally prepared for possibilities and maybe get a jump on seeking out yet another specialist (or 10...).

Part 16: The awakening of the heart
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As the Mysterious Stranger and the Seeker leave the old castle behind, they continue on the snow-covered path. A path appears on the right side, following parallel to their own. The two paths merge into one, which leads towards a volcano. As they progress, another parallel path from the left side merges as well with the current one.
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In the distance, the Seeker spots a building, where the path tilts uphill. A sign points at a crossroad. An intersection, between realms. The crossroads, where all timelines meet up: Where the westward and the eastward paths meets the northern road.
Where the paths meet, stands a tavern. The lights are on. The chimney is smoking. A sign shows its name:
'The Red Ditch Inn'
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“Wanna get something to drink,” asks the Stranger the Seeker.
“Sure, why not,” accepts the Seeker.
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Before he opens the door knob, the Stranger hesitates and speaks to the Seeker:
“This is the bar, where the timelines of our souls meet up. This is the crossing of our life-paths, the intersection of fate. Be prepared, for what happens next.”
The Seeker and the Stranger walk into the building. As they open the door, they are started by the loud conversations. The inn is full. Many tables with different animals of all species.
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The table in the center of the bar, has a label saying: 'Spirituality'
Around that table sit all kinds of different birds and animals. Pigeons, squirrels, Reptiles, cats, dogs, wolves, foxes, crows, mice, sloths. They are mostly talking about crystals and past lives.
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There was a table, which said: 'astralprojection'. There sat an old bear, who carries many scars, wounded by countless battles, teaching young bear cups, who attentively listen to their elders. Some are making notes.
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Next to it, is a table with a label saying: 'Enlightenment'
There sit some parrots all repeating the same mantra in unison:
“BEFORE ENLIGHTENMENT CHOP WOOD CARRY WATER, AFTER ENLIGHTENMENT CHOP WOOD CARRY WATER.”
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There is another table, called: 'Awakened'
There sit a caterpillar, a spider, a scorpion and an eagle.
“You have an Ego,” shouts the caterpillar at the spider, pointing his finger.
“No, you have an Ego,” shouts the spider back at the caterpillar.
“You both have an Ego,” accuses the scorpion both the caterpillar and the spider.
“Hey,” shouts the bird. “I am the eagle here!”
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Next to it, is the table of 'nonduality'. The chairs are completely empty. There is no one here.
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On the other side there is another table with many different birds and mammals, some more exotic animals from all around the world. The label says 'Soulnexus'. There is someone constantly screaming at the top of their lungs:
“I AM A PROFFESIONAL PSYCHIC READER WITH 14 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE!”
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One table next to it is called 'starseeds'. The people sitting there do not look like animals, but like strange aliens. Some small and green beings, others big and gray, some with fur, some with scales, some humanoid. They were mostly talking about the past, exchanging some old memories. Among them is a chicken, who wears an alien costume.
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As one of the Grey beings stands up to go to the toilet, the chicken whispers to the others:
“Psst guys, I think Fred may not be an actual Starseed.”
The other beings around the table start mumbling.
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There is one more table called 'psychonauts'. The Stranger walks towards their table.
“Jo, wazzup Shawty,” greets the Stranger an old friend at the psychonaut-table, with a fist bump. “Long time no see.”
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“Whoa, it's YOU,” responds the Tiger at the table, with red eyes, smoking his bong. “Last time I've seen you, I was like in DMT realm.”
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“Is Burt anywhere around?” asks the Stranger.
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“He is sitting there in the corner,” responds Shawty. The tiger points at a traumatized racoon sitting in the dark corner.
“I have seen too much,” mumbles the Burt the Racoon with eyes wide open, like a scratched record.
“I have traveled too far... I have seen, what lies within the emptiness. Never again... I will never do shrooms again...”
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Suddenly the waiter taps the racoons shoulder, ripping him out of his thought loop.
“Sir... Do you wanna order anything?”
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“Do you have McKennaii?”
“Yes,” responds the waiter.
“Then I'll have 7 grams,” orders the racoon.
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The Seeker has a sudden thought and looks at the Stranger.
“What does the ' slash' on the tables, stand for?”
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“I don't know...,” shrugs the Stranger. “ It's probably to reserve the table at this inn.”
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The Stranger looks at all the tables, they are all talking and talking. Some are playing poker, others are playing dart, some drunks fight each other. Others talk about their identity or their favorite dogma. Some are showing off, how enlightened they are.
As they stand at the crossroads, they can either go Westwards, Eastwards and Northwards. Many have taken the western route, many have went eastwards, but they always ended back at the 'Red Ditch Inn' again.
The newbies, were unsure, whether to go west or east. The experienced ones, knew it doesn't make a difference, they would end up at the bar again anyway. Some were stuck in the bar since many decades, they had given up hope to ever find a way out. But few of them ever dared to walk northwards.
The Stranger sighs, as he looks around. His eyes flame up, he inhales deeply and climbs on a chair. With a raised voice he speaks:
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“When did we lose our heart?
We lost our heart collectively.
Did we lose it, when we were still cavemen? When we had to survive the cold winters of the ice age? When we hunted down the last Homo Neanderthalensis? Or later on, when the first tribes waged war against each other? Did we lose our heart, when we enslaved each other? Did we lose our hearts, when we dropped atom bombs, or when we caused our first mass extinctions...The crimes, that Humans do in wars... All of us carry the sins of our forefathers on our shoulders.
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We lost our hearts individually.
For the person it starts pretty early in their childhood. We lose our trust, when we are lied to. Almost everyone tastes the pain of Betrayal at least once in life. We are deeply wounded from childhood on. We learn early on, that humans hurt us and thus we become suspicious of humans. We learn not to trust each other. Because we are afraid of being hurt again. And so we close off our heart to protect it.
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What is the heart?
I am not talking about the physical organ. I talk about this part in your 'soul', if I may call it that. It's like the core of our 'soul', of our 'astral body'. The centre of our 'energy' or chakras. We are afraid to open it, because it's very vulnerable. That's why we protect it. We are afraid to open it, because we don't trust each other.
But unless your heart is open, you can never experience unconditional love. Its flame must be activated.
The heart is your connection to everything. The heart is what connects you to 'source', if that's the word, you'd like to use. The heart is from where our love flows.
We have cut off the connection and became separated from the ALL. We made love conditional. We split hating from loving, dislike from like and created duality. We became attached. We let ourselves be corrupted by the Ego.
Now that we have closed the heart, what have we done to the world?
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We turned the world into a place, that almost no one likes. We created a society, that keeps us in narrow boxes. We made the world a lonely place, for everyone to be in. Even in groups, we often feel lonely. We allowed money to rule over us. We allowed ideologies to split us and dogmas to control us.
We have so many different issues, that we just can't seem to overcome. Climate change. Wars. Corrupt politicians. Poverty. Starvation. Meaninglessness. Nihilism.
Where should we start with all that mess?
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With ourselves. That is the place, where the transformation needs to start. We need to evolve. One person at a time. Only then, can the collective transform as well.
We need to open the mind and the heart. To see and to feel. To be aware and to love. We need to find harmony within ourselves. End the inner conflict and find peace within.
Find your own truest path.
Let go of any limiting beliefs. Let go of any attachments. Forgive whoever needs forgiveness and apologize to clear your regrets. Find Love.
Find your light within. See your light in all people. Love your enemies.
Recognize the Ego, be aware of what makes it grow. Become aware of any negative thought patterns. Be disciplined.
Clear your own shadows. Face your Trauma. Heal your inner child.
Get free from all bodily addictions. Be free of fear. Be free of suffering.
See the beauty of all things. Find joy in every moment.
Surrender yourself. Follow the heart. Be proud and courageous. Accept your life and your story. Embrace your story, without being attached to it.
Find your purpose. End the Seeking.
Be your authentic Self. Express Love through your character.
Become Love.
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This is a possible path. And I just gave you the map. It can be walked. It was walked before. But it is a path into unknown territory. Only the bravest of you can walk this path. It's not for the faintest of heart.
You see, you all either follow the path of the left and go westwards or you follow the path on the right and go eastwards... But no matter how far you go, you'll always end up at the crossroads again. You never make any real progress.
What if there is another path? What if there's another way? What if I say, 'let us go north?!'”
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Some of the crowd are in shock. Some are laughing. Others are mumbling.
“You can't walk north,” says a crow from the projectors. “It's impossible.”
“Everyone knows, that the northern road is a dead-end,” says an awakened Caterpillar. “It's a waste of time going up there. You can't go further, than the volcano.”
A psychonaut horse laughs. “That will be fun. Can't wait to see their disappointed faces, when they walk all the way back down.”
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The Stranger continues undeterred:
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“Why are you walking the spiritual path?
You felt called to do it, didn't you? You felt something within you. Something made click. You understood, that there is a deeper truth, that you must find. There was this deep longing within you. So you started walking.
What were the first things, that you were seeking?
You were seeking answers.
What were your first questions? You were asking, 'What is my purpose?' You were asking 'Why am I here'?
And you have searched in so many places. But no matter which answer you got, you were never fully satisfied. Because it wasn't your answer. Because it was someone else's answer.
So you stopped seeking. Either you were content with some unfulfilling answers or you just simply gave up. When did you stop finding your own answers?
Dogma or tradition give us easy answers. When we are attached to them, when we build an identity around them, we become unable to find our own answers. But you can't end Seeking with someone elses answers. Only when you have claimed the answer for yourself, can the Seeker transform into something different. Into something new.
Just ending the Seeker, like cutting off a limb, won't do it. The Seeker needs to find their answer to the question 'What is my purpose?' Not one, they read from textbooks. Not an answer, that someone else can give them. When ONE has found their own unique purpose in life, then instead of 'seeking', there is only 'expressing'.”
.
.
.
“I see that you are advanced,” speaks an enlightened owl. “However you are blinded by idealism. When you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss will stare back at you.”
.
“My friend,” says the Stranger. “I have not only stared into the abyss, I went to hell and back again to find my answer.”
.
.
.
Everyone falls silent, the Stranger continues:
“It was always here on earth. Heaven. It was always within us. Take a look around you. There is beauty in all things. If you search for it, you can find joy in every moment. Look for love in the world and you shall find love everywhere. Meet Life with gratitude and wonder. Face your experience, like an adventurer faces his challenge. Express unconditional love through your very being. Because this is how we heal Humanities greatest wound: The scar of nihilism.
It has all become so meaningless to us, hasn't it?
Memorizing knowledge at school or college, that you'll never need in real life. This feeling of being stuck in life. Day to day, going to a dead-end job for minimum wage. Living an unfulfilled life. The shattering of broken dreams. The tears of our suffering.
You know, why everything has become so meaningless?
We let our hearts get cold. After falling, we stopped getting back up again. We stopped facing our challenges.
You see, after every defeat, Humanity always got back up again. No matter how tough the challenge may seemed, Humanity never gave up.
We have forgotten, who we are.
All of us are Humanity. You, Me, everyone. We are all humanity. You, the individual human are HUMANITY. You are the Rest of mankind. Because we are all the same in our essence. When you open your heart, then this is your name: 'HUMANITY'
Because you see yourself in every other human. This is the name of the divine spark that sits within all of us. It is the fire, that burns in our eyes. This is Humanity: An archetype of victory and an idea of unity.
Let me ask you a very direct question. If we all came together to do our part, do you think that we could actually clean up the mess we have created? Do you think we have a chance of not only to survive but even to evolve as a species? And perhaps write even greater stories, than ever before?”
.
.
.
.
.
The entire crowd is silent. Most of them avoid eye contact. People start mumbling.
Then the crowd slowly gets louder again and the conversations on each table, continue as if nothing ever happened.
As the Stranger steps down from the chair, a monkey gets up from one of the tables, points his finger and screams:
“Look guys, this dude has ketchup on his outfit.”
.
.
While the crowd laughs at him, the Stranger goes to the bar and orders two beer. While he waits, he rubs off the ketchup stain from his clothes with his fingernails.
People are looking at him and the Seeker. The Seeker can't bear standing next to the Stranger and leaves the tavern. The Stranger pays for two beers. 140 Pesos. He then follows the Seeker outside.
.
.
“Wanna go already?” asks the Stranger while sipping from his beer.
“Those guys hate you now,” sighs the Seeker.
“Who cares?” shrugs the Stranger, while gulping down the beer in a single go.
.
.
.
A couple of animals exit the bar. All the animals, that had no place to fit in. All the animals that didn't belong. A rabbit, a cat, a goldfish, a squirrel, a bear, a fox, a goat, a pigeon, an eagle, a chicken in an alien costume and a dog.
.
“I will also follow my destiny,” speaks the eagle with determination. His heart is also activated.
.
.
“Alright,” says a bear with burning eyes. “Let's try going north... Perhaps this is how we'll finally get to Axis Mundi.”
.
“Going north... that sounds fun,” says the smiling fox. “Let's see how far, we'll come.”
.
“We are all gonna die anyway,” sighs the pessimistic goat.
.
“I never tried going north before,” contemplates the curious pigeon.
.
“10 bucks, that I am first at the top of the volcano,” bets the black cat, while looking at her claws.
.
“Deal,” agrees the dog, while hunting his own tail.
.
The rabbit thinks about the taste of carrots. She is hungry.
.
The squirrel is simply happy and excited for the new adventure. She can't stop dancing.
.
The goldfish has no idea, what he's actually doing. He just rolls around in a plastic bag.
“I... I will also walk my path,” speaks up the brave chicken in an alien costume. For the first time, the chickens eyes start burning.
.
.
.
Together, the new group of friends are traveling the northern road. Towards the volcano. As the sunset illuminates their backs, the animals start singing a new song. A song of excitement, of wonder and of bravery. A song, that goes something like: “We have found a way.”
.
.
.
TO BE CONTINUED
.
.
.
^{for more content visit:} We_Are_Humanity
^{Find previous part Here}
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cg7yqg/what_it_means_to_walk_togethe
^{Find next part Here:}
.
.
START JOURNEY HERE: https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/17zwf78/the_seeker_and_the_mysterious_stranger_part_1_of_7/
.
Checkpoint 4
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cbhoml/turning_shit_into_gold/
.
Special Bonus Chapters:
THE ONE TRUE SEEKER AND THE QUESTION OF FREE WILL
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cnaanw/special_bonus_chapter_the_one_true_seeker_and_the/

Part 16: The awakening of the heart
.
.
As the Mysterious Stranger and the Seeker leave the old castle behind, they continue on the snow-covered path. A path appears on the right side, following parallel to their own. The two paths merge into one, which leads towards a volcano. As they progress, another parallel path from the left side merges as well with the current one.
.
In the distance, the Seeker spots a building, where the path tilts uphill. A sign points at a crossroad. An intersection, between realms. The crossroads, where all timelines meet up: Where the westward and the eastward paths meets the northern road.
Where the paths meet, stands a tavern. The lights are on. The chimney is smoking. A sign shows its name:
'The Red Ditch Inn'
.
.
“Wanna get something to drink,” asks the Stranger the Seeker.
“Sure, why not,” accepts the Seeker.
.
.
Before he opens the door knob, the Stranger hesitates and speaks to the Seeker:
“This is the bar, where the timelines of our souls meet up. This is the crossing of our life-paths, the intersection of fate. Be prepared, for what happens next.”
The Seeker and the Stranger walk into the building. As they open the door, they are started by the loud conversations. The inn is full. Many tables with different animals of all species.
.
.
The table in the center of the bar, has a label saying: 'Spirituality'
Around that table sit all kinds of different birds and animals. Pigeons, squirrels, Reptiles, cats, dogs, wolves, foxes, crows, mice, sloths. They are mostly talking about crystals and past lives.
.
.
There was a table, which said: 'astralprojection'. There sat an old bear, who carries many scars, wounded by countless battles, teaching young bear cups, who attentively listen to their elders. Some are making notes.
.
.
Next to it, is a table with a label saying: 'Enlightenment'
There sit some parrots all repeating the same mantra in unison:
“BEFORE ENLIGHTENMENT CHOP WOOD CARRY WATER, AFTER ENLIGHTENMENT CHOP WOOD CARRY WATER.”
.
.
There is another table, called: 'Awakened'
There sit a caterpillar, a spider, a scorpion and an eagle.
“You have an Ego,” shouts the caterpillar at the spider, pointing his finger.
“No, you have an Ego,” shouts the spider back at the caterpillar.
“You both have an Ego,” accuses the scorpion both the caterpillar and the spider.
“Hey,” shouts the bird. “I am the eagle here!”
.
.
Next to it, is the table of 'nonduality'. The chairs are completely empty. There is no one here.
.
.
On the other side there is another table with many different birds and mammals, some more exotic animals from all around the world. The label says 'Soulnexus'. There is someone constantly screaming at the top of their lungs:
“I AM A PROFFESIONAL PSYCHIC READER WITH 14 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE!”
.
.
One table next to it is called 'starseeds'. The people sitting there do not look like animals, but like strange aliens. Some small and green beings, others big and gray, some with fur, some with scales, some humanoid. They were mostly talking about the past, exchanging some old memories. Among them is a chicken, who wears an alien costume.
.
As one of the Grey beings stands up to go to the toilet, the chicken whispers to the others:
“Psst guys, I think Fred may not be an actual Starseed.”
The other beings around the table start mumbling.
.
.
There is one more table called 'psychonauts'. The Stranger walks towards their table.
“Jo, wazzup Shawty,” greets the Stranger an old friend at the psychonaut-table, with a fist bump. “Long time no see.”
.
“Whoa, it's YOU,” responds the Tiger at the table, with red eyes, smoking his bong. “Last time I've seen you, I was like in DMT realm.”
.
“Is Burt anywhere around?” asks the Stranger.
.
.
“He is sitting there in the corner,” responds Shawty. The tiger points at a traumatized racoon sitting in the dark corner.
“I have seen too much,” mumbles the Burt the Racoon with eyes wide open, like a scratched record.
“I have traveled too far... I have seen, what lies within the emptiness. Never again... I will never do shrooms again...”
.
.
Suddenly the waiter taps the racoons shoulder, ripping him out of his thought loop.
“Sir... Do you wanna order anything?”
.
“Do you have McKennaii?”
“Yes,” responds the waiter.
“Then I'll have 7 grams,” orders the racoon.
.
.
The Seeker has a sudden thought and looks at the Stranger.
“What does the ' slash' on the tables, stand for?”
.
“I don't know...,” shrugs the Stranger. “ It's probably to reserve the table at this inn.”
.
.
.
The Stranger looks at all the tables, they are all talking and talking. Some are playing poker, others are playing dart, some drunks fight each other. Others talk about their identity or their favorite dogma. Some are showing off, how enlightened they are.
As they stand at the crossroads, they can either go Westwards, Eastwards and Northwards. Many have taken the western route, many have went eastwards, but they always ended back at the 'Red Ditch Inn' again.
The newbies, were unsure, whether to go west or east. The experienced ones, knew it doesn't make a difference, they would end up at the bar again anyway. Some were stuck in the bar since many decades, they had given up hope to ever find a way out. But few of them ever dared to walk northwards.
The Stranger sighs, as he looks around. His eyes flame up, he inhales deeply and climbs on a chair. With a raised voice he speaks:
.
.
.
.
“When did we lose our heart?
We lost our heart collectively.
Did we lose it, when we were still cavemen? When we had to survive the cold winters of the ice age? When we hunted down the last Homo Neanderthalensis? Or later on, when the first tribes waged war against each other? Did we lose our heart, when we enslaved each other? Did we lose our hearts, when we dropped atom bombs, or when we caused our first mass extinctions...The crimes, that Humans do in wars... All of us carry the sins of our forefathers on our shoulders.
.
.
We lost our hearts individually.
For the person it starts pretty early in their childhood. We lose our trust, when we are lied to. Almost everyone tastes the pain of Betrayal at least once in life. We are deeply wounded from childhood on. We learn early on, that humans hurt us and thus we become suspicious of humans. We learn not to trust each other. Because we are afraid of being hurt again. And so we close off our heart to protect it.
.
.
What is the heart?
I am not talking about the physical organ. I talk about this part in your 'soul', if I may call it that. It's like the core of our 'soul', of our 'astral body'. The centre of our 'energy' or chakras. We are afraid to open it, because it's very vulnerable. That's why we protect it. We are afraid to open it, because we don't trust each other.
But unless your heart is open, you can never experience unconditional love. Its flame must be activated.
The heart is your connection to everything. The heart is what connects you to 'source', if that's the word, you'd like to use. The heart is from where our love flows.
We have cut off the connection and became separated from the ALL. We made love conditional. We split hating from loving, dislike from like and created duality. We became attached. We let ourselves be corrupted by the Ego.
Now that we have closed the heart, what have we done to the world?
.
.
We turned the world into a place, that almost no one likes. We created a society, that keeps us in narrow boxes. We made the world a lonely place, for everyone to be in. Even in groups, we often feel lonely. We allowed money to rule over us. We allowed ideologies to split us and dogmas to control us.
We have so many different issues, that we just can't seem to overcome. Climate change. Wars. Corrupt politicians. Poverty. Starvation. Meaninglessness. Nihilism.
Where should we start with all that mess?
.
.
With ourselves. That is the place, where the transformation needs to start. We need to evolve. One person at a time. Only then, can the collective transform as well.
We need to open the mind and the heart. To see and to feel. To be aware and to love. We need to find harmony within ourselves. End the inner conflict and find peace within.
Find your own truest path.
Let go of any limiting beliefs. Let go of any attachments. Forgive whoever needs forgiveness and apologize to clear your regrets. Find Love.
Find your light within. See your light in all people. Love your enemies.
Recognize the Ego, be aware of what makes it grow. Become aware of any negative thought patterns. Be disciplined.
Clear your own shadows. Face your Trauma. Heal your inner child.
Get free from all bodily addictions. Be free of fear. Be free of suffering.
See the beauty of all things. Find joy in every moment.
Surrender yourself. Follow the heart. Be proud and courageous. Accept your life and your story. Embrace your story, without being attached to it.
Find your purpose. End the Seeking.
Be your authentic Self. Express Love through your character.
Become Love.
.
.
.
This is a possible path. And I just gave you the map. It can be walked. It was walked before. But it is a path into unknown territory. Only the bravest of you can walk this path. It's not for the faintest of heart.
You see, you all either follow the path of the left and go westwards or you follow the path on the right and go eastwards... But no matter how far you go, you'll always end up at the crossroads again. You never make any real progress.
What if there is another path? What if there's another way? What if I say, 'let us go north?!'”
.
.
.
Some of the crowd are in shock. Some are laughing. Others are mumbling.
“You can't walk north,” says a crow from the projectors. “It's impossible.”
“Everyone knows, that the northern road is a dead-end,” says an awakened Caterpillar. “It's a waste of time going up there. You can't go further, than the volcano.”
A psychonaut horse laughs. “That will be fun. Can't wait to see their disappointed faces, when they walk all the way back down.”
.
.
.
.
.
The Stranger continues undeterred:
.
“Why are you walking the spiritual path?
You felt called to do it, didn't you? You felt something within you. Something made click. You understood, that there is a deeper truth, that you must find. There was this deep longing within you. So you started walking.
What were the first things, that you were seeking?
You were seeking answers.
What were your first questions? You were asking, 'What is my purpose?' You were asking 'Why am I here'?
And you have searched in so many places. But no matter which answer you got, you were never fully satisfied. Because it wasn't your answer. Because it was someone else's answer.
So you stopped seeking. Either you were content with some unfulfilling answers or you just simply gave up. When did you stop finding your own answers?
Dogma or tradition give us easy answers. When we are attached to them, when we build an identity around them, we become unable to find our own answers. But you can't end Seeking with someone elses answers. Only when you have claimed the answer for yourself, can the Seeker transform into something different. Into something new.
Just ending the Seeker, like cutting off a limb, won't do it. The Seeker needs to find their answer to the question 'What is my purpose?' Not one, they read from textbooks. Not an answer, that someone else can give them. When ONE has found their own unique purpose in life, then instead of 'seeking', there is only 'expressing'.”
.
.
.
“I see that you are advanced,” speaks an enlightened owl. “However you are blinded by idealism. When you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss will stare back at you.”
.
“My friend,” says the Stranger. “I have not only stared into the abyss, I went to hell and back again to find my answer.”
.
.
.
Everyone falls silent, the Stranger continues:
“It was always here on earth. Heaven. It was always within us. Take a look around you. There is beauty in all things. If you search for it, you can find joy in every moment. Look for love in the world and you shall find love everywhere. Meet Life with gratitude and wonder. Face your experience, like an adventurer faces his challenge. Express unconditional love through your very being. Because this is how we heal Humanities greatest wound: The scar of nihilism.
It has all become so meaningless to us, hasn't it?
Memorizing knowledge at school or college, that you'll never need in real life. This feeling of being stuck in life. Day to day, going to a dead-end job for minimum wage. Living an unfulfilled life. The shattering of broken dreams. The tears of our suffering.
You know, why everything has become so meaningless?
We let our hearts get cold. After falling, we stopped getting back up again. We stopped facing our challenges.
You see, after every defeat, Humanity always got back up again. No matter how tough the challenge may seemed, Humanity never gave up.
We have forgotten, who we are.
All of us are Humanity. You, Me, everyone. We are all humanity. You, the individual human are HUMANITY. You are the Rest of mankind. Because we are all the same in our essence. When you open your heart, then this is your name: 'HUMANITY'
Because you see yourself in every other human. This is the name of the divine spark that sits within all of us. It is the fire, that burns in our eyes. This is Humanity: An archetype of victory and an idea of unity.
Let me ask you a very direct question. If we all came together to do our part, do you think that we could actually clean up the mess we have created? Do you think we have a chance of not only to survive but even to evolve as a species? And perhaps write even greater stories, than ever before?”
.
.
.
.
.
The entire crowd is silent. Most of them avoid eye contact. People start mumbling.
Then the crowd slowly gets louder again and the conversations on each table, continue as if nothing ever happened.
As the Stranger steps down from the chair, a monkey gets up from one of the tables, points his finger and screams:
“Look guys, this dude has ketchup on his outfit.”
.
.
While the crowd laughs at him, the Stranger goes to the bar and orders two beer. While he waits, he rubs off the ketchup stain from his clothes with his fingernails.
People are looking at him and the Seeker. The Seeker can't bear standing next to the Stranger and leaves the tavern. The Stranger pays for two beers. 140 Pesos. He then follows the Seeker outside.
.
.
“Wanna go already?” asks the Stranger while sipping from his beer.
“Those guys hate you now,” sighs the Seeker.
“Who cares?” shrugs the Stranger, while gulping down the beer in a single go.
.
.
.
A couple of animals exit the bar. All the animals, that had no place to fit in. All the animals that didn't belong. A rabbit, a cat, a goldfish, a squirrel, a bear, a fox, a goat, a pigeon, an eagle, a chicken in an alien costume and a dog.
.
“I will also follow my destiny,” speaks the eagle with determination. His heart is also activated.
.
.
“Alright,” says a bear with burning eyes. “Let's try going north... Perhaps this is how we'll finally get to Axis Mundi.”
.
“Going north... that sounds fun,” says the smiling fox. “Let's see how far, we'll come.”
.
“We are all gonna die anyway,” sighs the pessimistic goat.
.
“I never tried going north before,” contemplates the curious pigeon.
.
“10 bucks, that I am first at the top of the volcano,” bets the black cat, while looking at her claws.
.
“Deal,” agrees the dog, while hunting his own tail.
.
The rabbit thinks about the taste of carrots. She is hungry.
.
The squirrel is simply happy and excited for the new adventure. She can't stop dancing.
.
The goldfish has no idea, what he's actually doing. He just rolls around in a plastic bag.
“I... I will also walk my path,” speaks up the brave chicken in an alien costume. For the first time, the chickens eyes start burning.
.
.
.
Together, the new group of friends are traveling the northern road. Towards the volcano. As the sunset illuminates their backs, the animals start singing a new song. A song of excitement, of wonder and of bravery. A song, that goes something like: “We have found a way.”
.
.
.
TO BE CONTINUED
.
.
.
^{for more content visit:} We_Are_Humanity
^{Find previous part Here}
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cg7yqg/what_it_means_to_walk_togethe
^{Find next part Here:}
.
.
START JOURNEY HERE: https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/17zwf78/the_seeker_and_the_mysterious_stranger_part_1_of_7/
.
Checkpoint 4
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cbhoml/turning_shit_into_gold/
.
Special Bonus Chapters:
THE ONE TRUE SEEKER AND THE QUESTION OF FREE WILL
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cnaanw/special_bonus_chapter_the_one_true_seeker_and_the/

Walking the Path together (Part 16)

https://preview.redd.it/xkks1c25dt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=16a8c2bf518cff73d42e5f3c1d27b6b1b8a60f1f
Part 16: The awakening of the heart
.
.
As the Mysterious Stranger and the Seeker leave the old castle behind, they continue on the snow-covered path. A path appears on the right side, following parallel to their own. The two paths merge into one, which leads towards a volcano. As they progress, another parallel path from the left side merges as well with the current one.
.
In the distance, the Seeker spots a building, where the path tilts uphill. A sign points at a crossroad. An intersection, between realms. The crossroads, where all timelines meet up: Where the westward and the eastward paths meets the northern road.
https://preview.redd.it/oqc06uf6dt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=cbaf67402c9e8a329d687c02cf702e80e04efecf
Where the paths meet, stands a tavern. The lights are on. The chimney is smoking. A sign shows its name:
'The Red Ditch Inn'
https://preview.redd.it/6whs3tj7dt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=820ac22a874776c86e754d0382bde5f5735ccaec
.
.
“Wanna get something to drink,” asks the Stranger the Seeker.
“Sure, why not,” accepts the Seeker.
.
.
Before he opens the door knob, the Stranger hesitates and speaks to the Seeker:
“This is the bar, where the timelines of our souls meet up. This is the crossing of our life-paths, the intersection of fate. Be prepared, for what happens next.”
The Seeker and the Stranger walk into the building. As they open the door, they are started by the loud conversations. The inn is full. Many tables with different animals of all species.
.
.
The table in the center of the bar, has a label saying: ''
Around that table sit all kinds of different birds and animals. Pigeons, squirrels, Reptiles, cats, dogs, wolves, foxes, crows, mice, sloths. They are mostly talking about crystals and past lives.
https://preview.redd.it/1gczavj8dt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a043fd5f0a8e19b6741d4142e627a9ff04c61a40
.
.
There was a table, which said: ''. There sat an old bear, who carries many scars, wounded by countless battles, teaching young bear cups, who attentively listen to their elders. Some are making notes.
https://preview.redd.it/cs1bnyw9dt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d0dc23c517d3228eb12105a714957e7e640ecdb5
.
.
Next to it, is a table with a label saying: ''
There sit some parrots all repeating the same mantra in unison:
“BEFORE ENLIGHTENMENT CHOP WOOD CARRY WATER, AFTER ENLIGHTENMENT CHOP WOOD CARRY WATER.”
https://preview.redd.it/gpm5171cdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=51e94aa82f38d74ca688e52ac6b6353a9bf0a20f
.
.
There is another table, called: ''
There sit a caterpillar, a spider, a scorpion and an eagle.
“You have an Ego,” shouts the caterpillar at the spider, pointing his finger.
“No, you have an Ego,” shouts the spider back at the caterpillar.
“You both have an Ego,” accuses the scorpion both the caterpillar and the spider.
“Hey,” shouts the bird. “I am the eagle here!”
https://preview.redd.it/t6ih4otddt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f43ad75ac85304530493f99c0040fcfca8e4e828
.
.
Next to it, is the table of ''. The chairs are completely empty. There is no one here.
https://preview.redd.it/02lskmefdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7bb62a9d0282b31fac7592ed1f5318a75a59b05a
.
.
On the other side there is another table with many different birds and mammals, some more exotic animals from all around the world. The label says ''. There is someone constantly screaming at the top of their lungs:
“I AM A PROFFESIONAL PSYCHIC READER WITH 14 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE!”
https://preview.redd.it/yeejn1zgdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=bf306e303a289eef68cdcd5c89a14d65dbe7124f
.
.
One table next to it is called ''. The people sitting there do not look like animals, but like strange aliens. Some small and green beings, others big and gray, some with fur, some with scales, some humanoid. They were mostly talking about the past, exchanging some old memories. Among them is a chicken, who wears an alien costume.
.
As one of the Grey beings stands up to go to the toilet, the chicken whispers to the others:
“Psst guys, I think Fred may not be an actual Starseed.”
https://preview.redd.it/plzy2mdidt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=23a73f0d3635320c724975ff37a2dd717b219902
The other beings around the table start mumbling.
https://preview.redd.it/h74bdlxjdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=31c40fdefcabe13b0196d4be804aa33f2d75403f
.
.
There is one more table called ''. The Stranger walks towards their table.
“Jo, wazzup Shawty,” greets the Stranger an old friend at the psychonaut-table, with a fist bump. “Long time no see.”
.
“Whoa, it's YOU,” responds the Tiger at the table, with red eyes, smoking his bong. “Last time I've seen you, I was like in DMT realm.”
.
“Is Burt anywhere around?” asks the Stranger.
.
.
“He is sitting there in the corner,” responds Shawty. The tiger points at a traumatized racoon sitting in the dark corner.
“I have seen too much,” mumbles the Burt the Racoon with eyes wide open, like a scratched record.
“I have traveled too far... I have seen, what lies within the emptiness. Never again... I will never do shrooms again...”
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Suddenly the waiter taps the racoons shoulder, ripping him out of his thought loop.
“Sir... Do you wanna order anything?”
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“Do you have McKennaii?”
“Yes,” responds the waiter.
“Then I'll have 7 grams,” orders the racoon.
https://preview.redd.it/7kb6gugmdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3133e498511f679e6c66914a1e53c925fdd2b8e4
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The Seeker has a sudden thought and looks at the Stranger.
“What does the ' slash' on the tables, stand for?”
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“I don't know...,” shrugs the Stranger. “ It's probably to reserve the table at this inn.”
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The Stranger looks at all the tables, they are all talking and talking. Some are playing poker, others are playing dart, some drunks fight each other. Others talk about their identity or their favorite dogma. Some are showing off, how enlightened they are.
As they stand at the crossroads, they can either go Westwards, Eastwards and Northwards. Many have taken the western route, many have went eastwards, but they always ended back at the 'Red Ditch Inn' again.
The newbies, were unsure, whether to go west or east. The experienced ones, knew it doesn't make a difference, they would end up at the bar again anyway. Some were stuck in the bar since many decades, they had given up hope to ever find a way out. But few of them ever dared to walk northwards.
https://preview.redd.it/yci1amwndt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3fefe9cb65d9069f01463512c3bc70d42fd4ff66
The Stranger sighs, as he looks around. His eyes flame up, he inhales deeply and climbs on a chair. With a raised voice he speaks:
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“When did we lose our heart?
We lost our heart collectively.
Did we lose it, when we were still cavemen? When we had to survive the cold winters of the ice age? When we hunted down the last Homo Neanderthalensis? Or later on, when the first tribes waged war against each other? Did we lose our heart, when we enslaved each other? Did we lose our hearts, when we dropped atom bombs, or when we caused our first mass extinctions...The crimes, that Humans do in wars... All of us carry the sins of our forefathers on our shoulders.
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.
We lost our hearts individually.
For the person it starts pretty early in their childhood. We lose our trust, when we are lied to. Almost everyone tastes the pain of Betrayal at least once in life. We are deeply wounded from childhood on. We learn early on, that humans hurt us and thus we become suspicious of humans. We learn not to trust each other. Because we are afraid of being hurt again. And so we close off our heart to protect it.
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What is the heart?
I am not talking about the physical organ. I talk about this part in your 'soul', if I may call it that. It's like the core of our 'soul', of our 'astral body'. The centre of our 'energy' or chakras. We are afraid to open it, because it's very vulnerable. That's why we protect it. We are afraid to open it, because we don't trust each other.
But unless your heart is open, you can never experience unconditional love. Its flame must be activated.
The heart is your connection to everything. The heart is what connects you to 'source', if that's the word, you'd like to use. The heart is from where our love flows.
We have cut off the connection and became separated from the ALL. We made love conditional. We split hating from loving, dislike from like and created duality. We became attached. We let ourselves be corrupted by the Ego.
Now that we have closed the heart, what have we done to the world?
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We turned the world into a place, that almost no one likes. We created a society, that keeps us in narrow boxes. We made the world a lonely place, for everyone to be in. Even in groups, we often feel lonely. We allowed money to rule over us. We allowed ideologies to split us and dogmas to control us.
We have so many different issues, that we just can't seem to overcome. Climate change. Wars. Corrupt politicians. Poverty. Starvation. Meaninglessness. Nihilism.
Where should we start with all that mess?
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.
With ourselves. That is the place, where the transformation needs to start. We need to evolve. One person at a time. Only then, can the collective transform as well.
We need to open the mind and the heart. To see and to feel. To be aware and to love. We need to find harmony within ourselves. End the inner conflict and find peace within.
Find your own truest path.
Let go of any limiting beliefs. Let go of any attachments. Forgive whoever needs forgiveness and apologize to clear your regrets. Find Love.
Find your light within. See your light in all people. Love your enemies.
Recognize the Ego, be aware of what makes it grow. Become aware of any negative thought patterns. Be disciplined.
Clear your own shadows. Face your Trauma. Heal your inner child.
Get free from all bodily addictions. Be free of fear. Be free of suffering.
See the beauty of all things. Find joy in every moment.
Surrender yourself. Follow the heart. Be proud and courageous. Accept your life and your story. Embrace your story, without being attached to it.
Find your purpose. End the Seeking.
Be your authentic Self. Express Love through your character.
Become Love.
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.
.
This is a possible path. And I just gave you the map. It can be walked. It was walked before. But it is a path into unknown territory. Only the bravest of you can walk this path. It's not for the faintest of heart.
You see, you all either follow the path of the left and go westwards or you follow the path on the right and go eastwards... But no matter how far you go, you'll always end up at the crossroads again. You never make any real progress.
What if there is another path? What if there's another way? What if I say, 'let us go north?!'”
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Some of the crowd are in shock. Some are laughing. Others are mumbling.
“You can't walk north,” says a crow from the projectors. “It's impossible.”
“Everyone knows, that the northern road is a dead-end,” says an awakened Caterpillar. “It's a waste of time going up there. You can't go further, than the volcano.”
https://preview.redd.it/qxebl22qdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=af079c143695042c772c4b0e11f8b191a921805d
A psychonaut horse laughs. “That will be fun. Can't wait to see their disappointed faces, when they walk all the way back down.”
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The Stranger continues undeterred:
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“Why are you walking the spiritual path?
You felt called to do it, didn't you? You felt something within you. Something made click. You understood, that there is a deeper truth, that you must find. There was this deep longing within you. So you started walking.
What were the first things, that you were seeking?
You were seeking answers.
What were your first questions? You were asking, 'What is my purpose?' You were asking 'Why am I here'?
And you have searched in so many places. But no matter which answer you got, you were never fully satisfied. Because it wasn't your answer. Because it was someone else's answer.
So you stopped seeking. Either you were content with some unfulfilling answers or you just simply gave up. When did you stop finding your own answers?
Dogma or tradition give us easy answers. When we are attached to them, when we build an identity around them, we become unable to find our own answers. But you can't end Seeking with someone elses answers. Only when you have claimed the answer for yourself, can the Seeker transform into something different. Into something new.
Just ending the Seeker, like cutting off a limb, won't do it. The Seeker needs to find their answer to the question 'What is my purpose?' Not one, they read from textbooks. Not an answer, that someone else can give them. When ONE has found their own unique purpose in life, then instead of 'seeking', there is only 'expressing'.”
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“I see that you are advanced,” speaks an enlightened owl. “However you are blinded by idealism. When you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss will stare back at you.”
https://preview.redd.it/6p2spbhrdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a7eb32e311ddb89ca6cdf07c1b2dd9f0bc30a466
“My friend,” says the Stranger. “I have not only stared into the abyss, I went to hell and back again to find my answer.”
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Everyone falls silent, the Stranger continues:
“It was always here on earth. Heaven. It was always within us. Take a look around you. There is beauty in all things. If you search for it, you can find joy in every moment. Look for love in the world and you shall find love everywhere. Meet Life with gratitude and wonder. Face your experience, like an adventurer faces his challenge. Express unconditional love through your very being. Because this is how we heal Humanities greatest wound: The scar of nihilism.
It has all become so meaningless to us, hasn't it?
Memorizing knowledge at school or college, that you'll never need in real life. This feeling of being stuck in life. Day to day, going to a dead-end job for minimum wage. Living an unfulfilled life. The shattering of broken dreams. The tears of our suffering.
You know, why everything has become so meaningless?
We let our hearts get cold. After falling, we stopped getting back up again. We stopped facing our challenges.
You see, after every defeat, Humanity always got back up again. No matter how tough the challenge may seemed, Humanity never gave up.
We have forgotten, who we are.
All of us are Humanity. You, Me, everyone. We are all humanity. You, the individual human are HUMANITY. You are the Rest of mankind. Because we are all the same in our essence. When you open your heart, then this is your name: 'HUMANITY'
Because you see yourself in every other human. This is the name of the divine spark that sits within all of us. It is the fire, that burns in our eyes. This is Humanity: An archetype of victory and an idea of unity.
Let me ask you a very direct question. If we all came together to do our part, do you think that we could actually clean up the mess we have created? Do you think we have a chance of not only to survive but even to evolve as a species? And perhaps write even greater stories, than ever before?”
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The entire crowd is silent. Most of them avoid eye contact. People start mumbling.
Then the crowd slowly gets louder again and the conversations on each table, continue as if nothing ever happened.
As the Stranger steps down from the chair, a monkey gets up from one of the tables, points his finger and screams:
“Look guys, this dude has ketchup on his outfit.”
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While the crowd laughs at him, the Stranger goes to the bar and orders two beer. While he waits, he rubs off the ketchup stain from his clothes with his fingernails.
People are looking at him and the Seeker. The Seeker can't bear standing next to the Stranger and leaves the tavern. The Stranger pays for two beers. 140 Pesos. He then follows the Seeker outside.
https://preview.redd.it/dnbnlkbtdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7fec72a92d808274036204143603af3c8ade16eb
“Wanna go already?” asks the Stranger while sipping from his beer.
“Those guys hate you now,” sighs the Seeker.
“Who cares?” shrugs the Stranger, while gulping down the beer in a single go.
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A couple of animals exit the bar. All the animals, that had no place to fit in. All the animals that didn't belong. A rabbit, a cat, a goldfish, a squirrel, a bear, a fox, a goat, a pigeon, an eagle, a chicken in an alien costume and a dog.
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“I will also follow my destiny,” speaks the eagle with determination. His heart is also activated.
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https://preview.redd.it/nd50axqudt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=da24a566897e8e118e53ee4609db53cc3efa5cdb
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“Alright,” says a bear with burning eyes. “Let's try going north... Perhaps this is how we'll finally get to Axis Mundi.”
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“Going north... that sounds fun,” says the smiling fox. “Let's see how far, we'll come.”
https://preview.redd.it/le9j6pbwdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=068cf7b88e3dd326f4225dfa75436adb6d904d01
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“We are all gonna die anyway,” sighs the pessimistic goat.
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“I never tried going north before,” contemplates the curious pigeon.
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“10 bucks, that I am first at the top of the volcano,” bets the black cat, while looking at her claws.
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“Deal,” agrees the dog, while hunting his own tail.
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The rabbit thinks about the taste of carrots. She is hungry.
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The squirrel is simply happy and excited for the new adventure. She can't stop dancing.
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The goldfish has no idea, what he's actually doing. He just rolls around in a plastic bag.
https://preview.redd.it/kfe69coxdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=21ad2e953dac510efa9a38e287616b6c4ee4bb57
“I... I will also walk my path,” speaks up the brave chicken in an alien costume. For the first time, the chickens eyes start burning.
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Together, the new group of friends are traveling the northern road. Towards the volcano. As the sunset illuminates their backs, the animals start singing a new song. A song of excitement, of wonder and of bravery. A song, that goes something like: “We have found a way.”
https://preview.redd.it/htgexyhzdt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6f8e7e4b2b91d523553ec1c57390fd935710e5ff
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TO BE CONTINUED
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^{for more content visit:} We_Are_Humanity
^{Find previous part Here}
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cg7yqg/what_it_means_to_walk_togethe
^{Find next part Here:}
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START JOURNEY HERE: https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/17zwf78/the_seeker_and_the_mysterious_stranger_part_1_of_7/
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Checkpoint 4
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cbhoml/turning_shit_into_gold/
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Special Bonus Chapters:
THE ONE TRUE SEEKER AND THE QUESTION OF FREE WILL
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cnaanw/special_bonus_chapter_the_one_true_seeker_and_the/

Walking the Path together (Part 16)

https://preview.redd.it/euotxrvlat0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ebeaad69db8e6faa501d1f1a4f37ff88be1466d5
Part 16: The awakening of the heart
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As the Mysterious Stranger and the Seeker leave the old castle behind, they continue on the snow-covered path. A path appears on the right side, following parallel to their own. The two paths merge into one, which leads towards a volcano. As they progress, another parallel path from the left side merges as well with the current one.
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In the distance, the Seeker spots a building, where the path tilts uphill. A sign points at a crossroad. An intersection, between realms. The crossroads, where all timelines meet up: Where the westward and the eastward paths meets the northern road.
https://preview.redd.it/y91yf0hnat0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6f6aa56566d958d949b60ffc9a25d7acf648ae88
Where the paths meet, stands a tavern. The lights are on. The chimney is smoking. A sign shows its name:
'The Red Ditch Inn'
https://preview.redd.it/juftmsbpat0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ce590d32986f652979736d6e4a0f7a718953d8b0
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“Wanna get something to drink,” asks the Stranger the Seeker.
“Sure, why not,” accepts the Seeker.
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Before he opens the door knob, the Stranger hesitates and speaks to the Seeker:
“This is the bar, where the timelines of our souls meet up. This is the crossing of our life-paths, the intersection of fate. Be prepared, for what happens next.”
The Seeker and the Stranger walk into the building. As they open the door, they are started by the loud conversations. The inn is full. Many tables with different animals of all species.
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The table in the center of the bar, has a label saying: ''
Around that table sit all kinds of different birds and animals. Pigeons, squirrels, Reptiles, cats, dogs, wolves, foxes, crows, mice, sloths. They are mostly talking about crystals and past lives.
https://preview.redd.it/51hygx7rat0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f7e21f854aa849d0e1647c73551cf69886802857
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There was a table, which said: ''. There sat an old bear, who carries many scars, wounded by countless battles, teaching young bear cups, who attentively listen to their elders. Some are making notes.
https://preview.redd.it/jhdust7tat0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f6c6edefe29376b1664a6e5a1496f50cba530e53
Next to it, is a table with a label saying: ''
There sit some parrots all repeating the same mantra in unison:
“BEFORE ENLIGHTENMENT CHOP WOOD CARRY WATER, AFTER ENLIGHTENMENT CHOP WOOD CARRY WATER.”
https://preview.redd.it/k4mn0ouuat0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5e6f44ee5f2604a334a3db3beda9b470510f2072
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There is another table, called: ''
There sit a caterpillar, a spider, a scorpion and an eagle.
“You have an Ego,” shouts the caterpillar at the spider, pointing his finger.
“No, you have an Ego,” shouts the spider back at the caterpillar.
“You both have an Ego,” accuses the scorpion both the caterpillar and the spider.
“Hey,” shouts the bird. “I am the eagle here!”
https://preview.redd.it/qssf2ykwat0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=419021543f18a7ea9479a3baed8dab11591b4800
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Next to it, is the table of 'nonduality'. The chairs are completely empty. There is no one here.
https://preview.redd.it/wroiy1fyat0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ac3c6674cd8f4e6417659dd75428b2288d49ceab
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On the other side there is another table with many different birds and mammals, some more exotic animals from all around the world. The label says 'Soulnexus'. There is someone constantly screaming at the top of their lungs:
“I AM A PROFFESIONAL PSYCHIC READER WITH 14 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE!”
https://preview.redd.it/h0us9l00bt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=849553e6990e3e929cb4a9a260dff7f5eeec2822
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One table next to it is called ''. The people sitting there do not look like animals, but like strange aliens. Some small and green beings, others big and gray, some with fur, some with scales, some humanoid. They were mostly talking about the past, exchanging some old memories. Among them is a chicken, who wears an alien costume.
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As one of the Grey beings stands up to go to the toilet, the chicken whispers to the others:
“Psst guys, I think Fred may not be an actual Starseed.”
https://preview.redd.it/rm7q76p1bt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3ecfe01dab9efac7c5e72bfbfe33bb8cc7767af7
The other beings around the table start mumbling.
https://preview.redd.it/yt1k1ye3bt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=227247bb01d8a3e55609027f8ab174d6ae73d22a
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There is one more table called ''. The Stranger walks towards their table.
“Jo, wazzup Shawty,” greets the Stranger an old friend at the psychonaut-table, with a fist bump. “Long time no see.”
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“Whoa, it's YOU,” responds the Tiger at the table, with red eyes, smoking his bong. “Last time I've seen you, I was like in DMT realm.”
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“Is Burt anywhere around?” asks the Stranger.
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“He is sitting there in the corner,” responds Shawty. The tiger points at a traumatized racoon sitting in the dark corner.
“I have seen too much,” mumbles the Burt the Racoon with eyes wide open, like a scratched record.
“I have traveled too far... I have seen, what lies within the emptiness. Never again... I will never do shrooms again...”
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Suddenly the waiter taps the racoons shoulder, ripping him out of his thought loop.
“Sir... Do you wanna order anything?”
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“Do you have McKennaii?”
“Yes,” responds the waiter.
“Then I'll have 7 grams,” orders the racoon.
https://preview.redd.it/0ietwc55bt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b9743c7ce4a41d96bdd79eca2e3a94a25f39aeb8
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The Seeker has a sudden thought and looks at the Stranger.
“What does the ' slash' on the tables, stand for?”
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“I don't know...,” shrugs the Stranger. “ It's probably to reserve the table at this inn.”
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The Stranger looks at all the tables, they are all talking and talking. Some are playing poker, others are playing dart, some drunks fight each other. Others talk about their identity or their favorite dogma. Some are showing off, how enlightened they are.
As they stand at the crossroads, they can either go Westwards, Eastwards and Northwards. Many have taken the western route, many have went eastwards, but they always ended back at the 'Red Ditch Inn' again.
The newbies, were unsure, whether to go west or east. The experienced ones, knew it doesn't make a difference, they would end up at the bar again anyway. Some were stuck in the bar since many decades, they had given up hope to ever find a way out. But few of them ever dared to walk northwards.
https://preview.redd.it/5q5msvr6bt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a38f7d94b60f2b9e4d6c434c0e5dba42e3eb42e0
The Stranger sighs, as he looks around. His eyes flame up, he inhales deeply and climbs on a chair. With a raised voice he speaks:
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“When did we lose our heart?
We lost our heart collectively.
Did we lose it, when we were still cavemen? When we had to survive the cold winters of the ice age? When we hunted down the last Homo Neanderthalensis? Or later on, when the first tribes waged war against each other? Did we lose our heart, when we enslaved each other? Did we lose our hearts, when we dropped atom bombs, or when we caused our first mass extinctions...The crimes, that Humans do in wars... All of us carry the sins of our forefathers on our shoulders.
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We lost our hearts individually.
For the person it starts pretty early in their childhood. We lose our trust, when we are lied to. Almost everyone tastes the pain of Betrayal at least once in life. We are deeply wounded from childhood on. We learn early on, that humans hurt us and thus we become suspicious of humans. We learn not to trust each other. Because we are afraid of being hurt again. And so we close off our heart to protect it.
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What is the heart?
I am not talking about the physical organ. I talk about this part in your 'soul', if I may call it that. It's like the core of our 'soul', of our 'astral body'. The centre of our 'energy' or chakras. We are afraid to open it, because it's very vulnerable. That's why we protect it. We are afraid to open it, because we don't trust each other.
But unless your heart is open, you can never experience unconditional love. Its flame must be activated.
The heart is your connection to everything. The heart is what connects you to 'source', if that's the word, you'd like to use. The heart is from where our love flows.
We have cut off the connection and became separated from the ALL. We made love conditional. We split hating from loving, dislike from like and created duality. We became attached. We let ourselves be corrupted by the Ego.
Now that we have closed the heart, what have we done to the world?
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.
We turned the world into a place, that almost no one likes. We created a society, that keeps us in narrow boxes. We made the world a lonely place, for everyone to be in. Even in groups, we often feel lonely. We allowed money to rule over us. We allowed ideologies to split us and dogmas to control us.
We have so many different issues, that we just can't seem to overcome. Climate change. Wars. Corrupt politicians. Poverty. Starvation. Meaninglessness. Nihilism.
Where should we start with all that mess?
.
.
With ourselves. That is the place, where the transformation needs to start. We need to evolve. One person at a time. Only then, can the collective transform as well.
We need to open the mind and the heart. To see and to feel. To be aware and to love. We need to find harmony within ourselves. End the inner conflict and find peace within.
Find your own truest path.
Let go of any limiting beliefs. Let go of any attachments. Forgive whoever needs forgiveness and apologize to clear your regrets. Find Love.
Find your light within. See your light in all people. Love your enemies.
Recognize the Ego, be aware of what makes it grow. Become aware of any negative thought patterns. Be disciplined.
Clear your own shadows. Face your Trauma. Heal your inner child.
Get free from all bodily addictions. Be free of fear. Be free of suffering.
See the beauty of all things. Find joy in every moment.
Surrender yourself. Follow the heart. Be proud and courageous. Accept your life and your story. Embrace your story, without being attached to it.
Find your purpose. End the Seeking.
Be your authentic Self. Express Love through your character.
Become Love.
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.
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This is a possible path. And I just gave you the map. It can be walked. It was walked before. But it is a path into unknown territory. Only the bravest of you can walk this path. It's not for the faintest of heart.
You see, you all either follow the path of the left and go westwards or you follow the path on the right and go eastwards... But no matter how far you go, you'll always end up at the crossroads again. You never make any real progress.
What if there is another path? What if there's another way? What if I say, 'let us go north?!'”
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Some of the crowd are in shock. Some are laughing. Others are mumbling.
“You can't walk north,” says a crow from the projectors. “It's impossible.”
“Everyone knows, that the northern road is a dead-end,” says an awakened Caterpillar. “It's a waste of time going up there. You can't go further, than the volcano.”
https://preview.redd.it/unxwjos8bt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3a39000508c04db0ea2e8b8c73af3b0484e893f5
A psychonaut horse laughs. “That will be fun. Can't wait to see their disappointed faces, when they walk all the way back down.”
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The Stranger continues undeterred:
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“Why are you walking the spiritual path?
You felt called to do it, didn't you? You felt something within you. Something made click. You understood, that there is a deeper truth, that you must find. There was this deep longing within you. So you started walking.
What were the first things, that you were seeking?
You were seeking answers.
What were your first questions? You were asking, 'What is my purpose?' You were asking 'Why am I here'?
And you have searched in so many places. But no matter which answer you got, you were never fully satisfied. Because it wasn't your answer. Because it was someone else's answer.
So you stopped seeking. Either you were content with some unfulfilling answers or you just simply gave up. When did you stop finding your own answers?
Dogma or tradition give us easy answers. When we are attached to them, when we build an identity around them, we become unable to find our own answers. But you can't end Seeking with someone elses answers. Only when you have claimed the answer for yourself, can the Seeker transform into something different. Into something new.
Just ending the Seeker, like cutting off a limb, won't do it. The Seeker needs to find their answer to the question 'What is my purpose?' Not one, they read from textbooks. Not an answer, that someone else can give them. When ONE has found their own unique purpose in life, then instead of 'seeking', there is only 'expressing'.”
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“I see that you are advanced,” speaks an enlightened owl. “However you are blinded by idealism. When you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss will stare back at you.”
https://preview.redd.it/wzo56e2bbt0d1.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=cf49158aa39d115cfe22cd60a4b5c1502d11e246
“My friend,” says the Stranger. “I have not only stared into the abyss, I went to hell and back again to find my answer.”
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Everyone falls silent, the Stranger continues:
“It was always here on earth. Heaven. It was always within us. Take a look around you. There is beauty in all things. If you search for it, you can find joy in every moment. Look for love in the world and you shall find love everywhere. Meet Life with gratitude and wonder. Face your experience, like an adventurer faces his challenge. Express unconditional love through your very being. Because this is how we heal Humanities greatest wound: The scar of nihilism.
It has all become so meaningless to us, hasn't it?
Memorizing knowledge at school or college, that you'll never need in real life. This feeling of being stuck in life. Day to day, going to a dead-end job for minimum wage. Living an unfulfilled life. The shattering of broken dreams. The tears of our suffering.
You know, why everything has become so meaningless?
We let our hearts get cold. After falling, we stopped getting back up again. We stopped facing our challenges.
You see, after every defeat, Humanity always got back up again. No matter how tough the challenge may seemed, Humanity never gave up.
We have forgotten, who we are.
All of us are Humanity. You, Me, everyone. We are all humanity. You, the individual human are HUMANITY. You are the Rest of mankind. Because we are all the same in our essence. When you open your heart, then this is your name: 'HUMANITY'
Because you see yourself in every other human. This is the name of the divine spark that sits within all of us. It is the fire, that burns in our eyes. This is Humanity: An archetype of victory and an idea of unity.
Let me ask you a very direct question. If we all came together to do our part, do you think that we could actually clean up the mess we have created? Do you think we have a chance of not only to survive but even to evolve as a species? And perhaps write even greater stories, than ever before?”
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The entire crowd is silent. Most of them avoid eye contact. People start mumbling.
Then the crowd slowly gets louder again and the conversations on each table, continue as if nothing ever happened.
As the Stranger steps down from the chair, a monkey gets up from one of the tables, points his finger and screams:
“Look guys, this dude has ketchup on his outfit.”
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While the crowd laughs at him, the Stranger goes to the bar and orders two beer. While he waits, he rubs off the ketchup stain from his clothes with his fingernails.
People are looking at him and the Seeker. The Seeker can't bear standing next to the Stranger and leaves the tavern. The Stranger pays for two beers. 140 Pesos. He then follows the Seeker outside.
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“Wanna go already?” asks the Stranger while sipping from his beer.
“Those guys hate you now,” sighs the Seeker.
“Who cares?” shrugs the Stranger, while gulping down the beer in a single go.
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A couple of animals exit the bar. All the animals, that had no place to fit in. All the animals that didn't belong. A rabbit, a cat, a goldfish, a squirrel, a bear, a fox, a goat, a pigeon, an eagle, a chicken in an alien costume and a dog.
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“I will also follow my destiny,” speaks the eagle with determination. His heart is also activated.
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“Alright,” says a bear with burning eyes. “Let's try going north... Perhaps this is how we'll finally get to Axis Mundi.”
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“Going north... that sounds fun,” says the smiling fox. “Let's see how far, we'll come.”
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“We are all gonna die anyway,” sighs the pessimistic goat.
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“I never tried going north before,” contemplates the curious pigeon.
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“10 bucks, that I am first at the top of the volcano,” bets the black cat, while looking at her claws.
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“Deal,” agrees the dog, while hunting his own tail.
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The rabbit thinks about the taste of carrots. She is hungry.
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The squirrel is simply happy and excited for the new adventure. She can't stop dancing.
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The goldfish has no idea, what he's actually doing. He just rolls around in a plastic bag.
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“I... I will also walk my path,” speaks up the brave chicken in an alien costume. For the first time, the chickens eyes start burning.
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Together, the new group of friends are traveling the northern road. Towards the volcano. As the sunset illuminates their backs, the animals start singing a new song. A song of excitement, of wonder and of bravery. A song, that goes something like: “We have found a way.”
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TO BE CONTINUED
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^{for more content visit:} We_Are_Humanity
^{Find previous part Here}
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cg7yqg/what_it_means_to_walk_togethe
^{Find next part Here:}
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START JOURNEY HERE: https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/17zwf78/the_seeker_and_the_mysterious_stranger_part_1_of_7/
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Checkpoint 4
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cbhoml/turning_shit_into_gold/
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Special Bonus Chapters:
THE ONE TRUE SEEKER AND THE QUESTION OF FREE WILL
https://www.reddit.com/We_Are_Humanity/comments/1cnaanw/special_bonus_chapter_the_one_true_seeker_and_the/

Hey Reddit, I need some perspective here. I (23M) live with my roommate (25F) in a small apartment. We've been living together for about six months now, and things have generally been okay until recently.
My roommate has a habit of leaving dirty dishes in the sink for days, sometimes even a week. This wouldn't be a big issue if it didn't attract pests and make the kitchen smell bad. I've tried mentioning it casually a couple of times, like, "Hey, would you mind washing your dishes after using them?" but it doesn't seem to stick.
Last week, I finally had enough and asked her if she could please be more mindful of cleaning up after herself, especially in shared spaces like the kitchen. I was polite and calm about it, just explaining that it's important to me to keep the space clean and hygienic.
Well, she got really defensive and accused me of being too controlling and nitpicky. She said I was making a big deal out of nothing and that I shouldn't be bothered by a few dishes in the sink. This led to a bit of an argument, and now she's giving me the silent treatment.
I feel like I was reasonable in asking for a basic level of cleanliness in our shared living space, but now I'm starting to doubt myself. AITA here?
Additional Detail:
My roommate's neglect of cleaning doesn't just stop at the dishes. She also tends to leave spills on the countertops, crumbs on the table, and sometimes even forgets to take out the trash when it's her turn. It's not just about the dishes; it's about a pattern of behavior that affects the overall cleanliness of our home.
I've always been accommodating and understanding of her habits, but it reached a tipping point when I found ants in the kitchen due to the food residue left on unwashed dishes. I couldn't ignore the issue any longer and felt it was necessary to address it for the sake of our living environment.
Despite my efforts to approach the situation calmly and respectfully, my roommate took it as a personal attack and turned the conversation into a confrontation. I don't want to be seen as controlling or overly critical, but I also believe that shared responsibilities should be upheld to maintain a harmonious living space.

Cover Art <<Previous Start Next >>
GLOSSARY This links to a post on the free section of my Patreon. Note: "Book 1" is chapters 1-59, "Book 2" is chapters 60-133, "Book 3", is 134-193, "Book 4" is CH 194-(ongoing)
Fuyuko, Derek, and Shizoku spent most of a day dealing with their accumulated gains and preparing for their first day of exploration. Shizoku spent a fair amount of that evening's time communing with Bip, her slime familiar. She needed to adjust what spells she had at the ready for dealing with a wetlands environment.
While she was studying her grimoire, Derek and Fuyuko were preparing more physical means of dealing with the wetlands. Most of their work had been dealt with by trading the boat for three pairs of proper swamp boots, but the footwear needed a little adjusting and resizing for each of them.
The over boots were a combination of different techniques for dealing with different sorts of mud, with the base being a raised wooden sole that 'winged' out to resist sinking further into soft mud that was deeper than the ridges raised the sole. These were attached to oiled leather over boots that were useful for wading. The wooden soles were detachable for prolonged wading where they would provide a hindrance.
Derek could reshape the wooden portion to match their feet exactly, and reshape metal fittings if needed, but leather and cloth needed manual adjustment. Given how long they were planning on using these for, it was important to make them fit as perfectly as possible to prevent blisters and sores, even with their normal footwear underneath the boots.
They began their exploration by using the mapping tools they had won in the library to learn the layout of the swamp near the town. It didn't take them long to realize that some of the islands moved very slowly, and Derek was able to use his elemental talents to investigate, leading to the disturbing realization that under the right conditions, mud could have currents and flows.
Shizoku's magic wasn't quite as effective as she would have liked, for most of it was designed to work in other environments. Magic designed to hide your tracks and traces didn't prevent you from making them in the first place, and so did not keep you from sinking into mud. She did have a spell designed to make traversal through any terrain safe and easy, but it didn't last very long and was best reserved for crossing smaller sections of really bad terrain.
Spells used for manipulating and altering plants could also provide small bridges, but these were limited by the strength of the nearby plants. Generally speaking, they were better for clearing plants out of the way.
These difficulties were inspiring ideas of future spells to research, but that required more time than just the little bit of rest they got each day.
Derek's powers were more consistent and easier to use repeatedly or for long periods, but the effects tended to not be as dramatic as the witch's spells. He could make the mud firmer or softer to a degree, but he couldn't create a solid path out of flowing silt for even a few minutes.
Fuyuko found that her long limbs and greater strength allowed her to move easier through the swamp then her friends could, just by virtue of being able to apply more force and leverage. This was why she was leading the way, Derek found it difficult to monitor the details of the mud around them while also working to firm it up constantly, and it was easiest for Fuyuko to cope with any sudden changes that Derek wasn't able to compensate for.
Their outward journey each day was mostly limited by Derek's stamina, and when he was approaching his limits they would use a combination of their maps and Shizoku's divination magics to find the best route back. Such spells required some precision in defining a destination, so they were not very useful when you didn't have a concrete destination in mind.
Because the trio were taking their time to be thorough and to explore all possibilities, it didn't take long for them to begin finding all the bounties that the swamp held in store for them. Shizoku was able to find plants with medical and alchemical uses, though she had to consult the tomes that she had stored in Bip's memories as wetland plants were not very familiar to her. Once she had identified any specific plant, she could give it to Fuyuko as a sample and the luponi could use her better senses to find more of that plant.
Fuyuko also caught the scent of some mud that was strangely familiar, and after she and Derek dug out some of the intensely colored clay, Shizoku was able to recognize it was a valuable type of clay used for making prized teapots and other pottery. This explained why the scent had been familiar to Fuyuko, as Kazue had been excited to introduce her to Cimbu and the fourteen-year-old had been fascinated by the ability to make the little clay dragon spit water without any magic involved and sometimes made some tea just to have an excuse to play with the tea pet and make him spit. Well, once she'd been shown how; tea wasn't something she'd had much experience with before.
Claiming the clay was more problematic. However much they might be able to claim in their explorations and bring back to town, there were only so many other explorers they could trade with as everyone had a limit to how much stuff they could physically haul out. In the end they decided on a single large sack of clay that would be stored in Fuyuko's spatially expanded backpack.
Derek did most of the work of 'mining' the clay, during which they made another discovery: Opals. There weren't an outrageous number of them, but they were decent-sized and high quality. These became a higher priority target than the clay itself, though they kept that too.
The teens didn't forget the lessons they'd been given about the previous level and wanted to fish here too. However, the water was murky in the places it was deep enough to possibly have fish, making it more difficult to know where the fish were.
It was only after they talked with people back at the town that they learned about fish traps, and set about making those. Specifically, eel traps. The eels were prized for both their skin and their flesh. Their skin was both durable and supple and came in a wide variety of colors and patterns, and their flesh was sweeter than most varieties found out in the world. As soon as they learned how to make and set eel traps, those were added to their routine during their explorations.
Their travels throughout the swamp also brought them to many of the scattered 'monster homes' throughout the swamp, including the time that Fuyuko nearly stepped on a kobold enjoying a nice relaxing mud bath. It was a shock for all three of them as none knew about the relatively recent acquisition of the small, scaled race.
Shizoku was fine with the kobold after she got over her shock, but she did less well when they met the crabbit, who was so kind as to sing for them. Not that any of them found the sight of the interior of the 'mouth' to be less than disturbing, but the effect on the little kitsune was profound as she tightened her lips into a forced smile despite the panic showing clearly in the lines and tension around her eyes. She did well enough to keep her reaction under control that the inhabitants chose to ignore it rather than call her out on it, which would have knocked down their standing in the witch's evaluation.
After about a week, they decided that their mapping and exploration of the swamp was about as good as it was going to get. It was time to approach the witch's hut that they'd avoided previously. The Fairy Witch was in a strange, almost manic mood and the trio quickly found out she was obsessed with creating new musical sounds.
"Alright kids," Carmilla said, "you want to pass my swamp? You have to help me out here. Look, the bards I've gotten my hands on have been great and all, even pretty damn creative. But I think I need something from people who don't know as much about music. Here's my workshop, I don't care if it's a new instrument or a new way of playing an old instrument, a different sort of harmony, or whatever. Gimme something new, and you can use anything you want here, the good stuff is in another building. Bah, this lot." She glared at a group of distant figures. "They're boring, won't even respond to me flirting with them, and not a musical bone in their bodies. Well, time to play the part. Have fun in there, but I don't really want to see you again until you got something for me."
The only one of them with any musical training at all was Shizoku, but it had never been something she'd pursued on her own. That left them somewhat aimlessly poking around the workshop and messing around with instruments they found, many of which were obviously experiments that were only finished enough to test.
That did eventually prove to be enough for inspiration. A large lute was laying on top of a narrow table, and Derek frowned thoughtfully at it. "I think I remember seeing something once that looked a little like that, but smaller. Like, it had a long board with a bunch of strings, way more than the lute, but the strings were on the top sort of like the lute, and it had a folding stand so that it sat on the ground. The lady who played it was set up in the square and taking tips, I guess to help pay her way? I don't know where she was traveling to or from, I only saw her once. I remember it being nice, but I don't remember what it sounded like exactly."
That was enough to start the ball rolling. "I think I know that one," Shizoku said, "Gran Gran has one tucked away. I don't think I've seen her play it though. Hmm. Well, she wants something new to her, and I don't think it's portable enough that most people are going to lug one down here, so maybe we can do that. I don't know how to tune without a tuning fork. Wait, Fuyuko, you have sharp ears, think you can figure out proper notes and a scale? "
Fuyuko looked at her blankly. "Um? I don't know, what does it involve?"
Shizoku gave her a quick rundown of how notes relate to each other with harmonies and gave an example by singing a few notes that were close to each other. "So like that, but cleaner. Only, we are supposed to be creative, and I know that there are different scales." She chewed on the idea for a little while more, thinking out loud while the others asked questions.
They agreed that the first step was going to be having a sounding box for the body, once Shizoku explained that was how the instrument amplified sound. Though that meant figuring out the size. Derek suggested that he try to make it as big as Carmilla could play. She wasn't as tall as Fuyuko, but she was pretty tall and had long arms and fingers.
The table seemed like a perfect frame to start with, even if they were going to destroy it, and the three of them set about scavenging the other instruments for parts. They snacked on strips of dried eel when they needed to take a break, and by evening they had a crude sound box built into what had once been the table. Even with Derek's wood-shaping skills, they were having trouble getting the salvaged parts to fit smoothly together into a single box with enough resonance.
Udup, the witch's shadow drake familiar, came out to check on them, and after getting a report on their progress offered to fetch them some food if they wanted to camp out here instead of trekking to town and back. The teens agreed that was the better idea, and it allowed them to tinker with ideas until they turned in for the night.
<<Previous Start Next >>
Also to be found on Royal Road.
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$3. : 10 Early chapters, lore excerpts $5. : 20 Early chapters, Short Stories $10 : 30+ Early chapters, New stories not published anywhere else (Until after I finish this story at least) . . . . . "A Girl and Her Dungeon", "The Celestine Fox", and AU Core 1: "Coreless"

Wow! This turned out so long and was helpful to write when I was feeling really really awful an hour ago. Here it goes:
I’ve been following this page and a few others once I saw information on video game addiction a few months ago. I saw my family and step-son in so many of the stories, my heart and mind was transformed. I don’t feel alone and my son is certainly not alone in his struggles. To be honest I’m scared to start this new journey, and I’ll get to that more later.
I always knew something was different about my step-son’s gaming, and it’s been a struggle since 2-3 years old based on what his Dad has told me. Here’s a bit of a background of our family dynamic.
Jake had Pete when he was 19 and never had a relationship with Mom, Kate. They split custody and it was evident she was using hard drugs and lost full custody of Pete when he was 9. A lot of his time with Mom was spent on an iPad without regulation as early as 2. Routines, locations, and security was not always present. It’s tough to think about the severity of what Pete experienced. At this time school was difficult, and Pete was diagnosed with ADHD. Meds helped a lot, and once Jake had full custody he was all about routine routine routine, healthy foods, activities, table top games nightly, camping, you name it! His passion for being a single Dad to Pete is why I ultimately fell in love with him two years later. When I started hanging out I noticed Pete playing a lot of games and not being the sporty type or hanging out with friends. By this point he was playing Minecraft after school and on the weekends pretty regularly. Jake was a good video game police officer and we still had a ton of time together as a new family. Pete is kind and very easy going and we started a great relationship fairly quickly. Jake and I agreed and often disagreed about the severity of Pete’s gaming, but we would come together and set some house rules and go on with life. As soon as we got busy, Pete would dive deep into computer games and grades would drop. We would see feces in his underwater, lack of hygiene, not getting up, laptop under his pillow, exc. Almost like clockwork by spring break, we’d have this intense struggle and Pete would pull it together for the semester at the very last minute. Pete is gifted and was always in accelerated math and science glasses, but was able to do the bare minimum without studying. Repeat for the next 3 years. Fast forward to High School he went to a smaller school in a new town and actually saw more independence. He made a friend, Dan who’s still around and is everything you’d hope a friend would be to your kid. Their bond is awesome. We’d still have to police but things were getting easier and we weren’t seeing those intense “downs” like we were in elementary and middle school. I think he was more confident and even his teachers said he was crushing it! The summer was tough and we tried to fill his time up but nothing seemed to interest him. If he hung out with friends and was hygienic we just made nudges about time limits. Thinking back I think there was one more period where we found feces in his underwater end of Senior year and gaming picked up, probably because we dropped our guard.
Summer before college I got him set up with an awesome outdoor job working on a zipline/climbing course and he thrived in Pete’s type of way. Climbing is one of the only things I can suggest to Pete and he’ll usually show some interest. Confident, peppy, excited, getting himself up. Always going back to games everyday but maintaining work, a friendship, and a little independence is what we wanted so left him alone most of the home time. We nudged him into a climbing retreat as an incoming freshman to give him a head start making friends, and a clear head going into the dorms! Scary fun times, and thought it would help. Then we officially dropped him off. Wow, so many smiles and happy tears had by all. The light in his eyes and showing us around and saying how cool he felt it was probably the happiest day of our lives along with my wedding day. The day I read vows to Pete saying I’d be there forever and unconditionally. It felt like my son was ready for his future. As we were driving away Pete said his friend gave him a gaming computer for free and he was at the tech center getting it hooked up to the campus internet. Dun dun dun.
Today he’s 2 weeks into his first summer break after a year of college. Yikes. Things are not great and that’s why I am here.
It was Spring Break (here comes the pattern) and Pete was gaming, not verbally making much sense, unhygienic, lost weight, gaming non stop. He almost missed his 2 hour bus ride back to school and that’s when we snapped. The typical what the hell is going on, you’re out of control. Pete usually cries when this happens because he knows the gig is up. Eventually he told us the truth, he failed two classes his first semester (told us winter break he did fine) and is now on track to fail another science and lab. WHAT!! We drove out there the next day to meet with the dean because he told us he was on probation and we wanted to support him. We were so worried. It turns out he hasn’t had any social interaction other than winter and spring break and spent his days alone in his dorm. He didn’t even seem like himself it was so scary. We get there and we spent two days walking, going out to eat, the typical “you got this buddy” “just stop playing games for a bit” and insert the other 100 life sayings you want to say to your kid that sound so annoying to them. We can’t help it. We love him. He was like yep I got this, nodded through all of it and we left. Three weeks later we noticed on the phone things were sounding off again, and he confessed he hasn’t made up any of his work. His Dad got disappointed on the phone and Pete said he called the suicide hotline because he was getting “yelled” at. I was standing there, he wasn’t yelling but I’m sure just the sheer reality of the situation got to him. We were heart broken, and at the same time angry. We couldn’t believe he was feeling this much anxiety and possibly depression. We always knew gaming was an escape and most likely due to his background, but this just seemed too much for anyone to handle. Again, he promised to limit himself. We checked in everyday for the last three weeks not with a nag but just, how’s it going. Did you set a timer today? Amazing that’s great you’re so close to being done!! Just trying to keep it super positive. We knew it was totally out of our control. He failed, and actually never made up the work his professor said he could over a month prior. He lied more.
We knew something had to change and we were preparing his return home. Can we do game quitter? Can we just put him right into a detox in our home? Family therapy? Healthy gamer? Olganon? We wanted to smash his computer trust me, if it weren’t for my job I wouldn’t have wifi because my stomach is in knots. But, we decided relationship first, let him set his own limits (with our house rules) and really try to get to the root cause of anxiety and depression. We had good convos, we let him tell us how it’s basically all of our fault because of the pressure, no judgement. We communicated with notes and texts sometimes when things were getting frustrating. He skirted around the 3 hour daily limit every possible way. All he wants to do is play video games, watch to tube of video games, talk to “friends” on discord about games, play D&D online, or draw D&D characters. It’s just too much, it’s impossible to limit. He always had an excuse for a screen and we were still seeing 10+ hours a day on screens. He told us he’s feeling crappier everyday by us, and honestly we’re feeling freakin awful and exhausted too.
What now? Nothing. I’m literally doing nothing anymore starting today. I can’t stop crying. He won’t do his own research into gaming addiction and does not want to change. Today we just said ya know what, this isn’t working so we’ll just figure something out in a few weeks. At this very moment he’s going on hour 9 of gaming straight. Knowing how much we tried as a family to limit this for the last few weeks. I’m still angry and it’s hard to look at him right now. It feels personal to me? I know it isn’t, but it just feels that way.
Therapy!? Yep. We tried. Back when he was in middle school and high school. Didn’t want to go back and didn’t talk much. He got his own therapist at school per the deans suggestion and he goes but the one session he’s had at home, he got off within 30 minutes and said “he didn’t have much to talk about with her” and he’ll see her maybe once a month back at school. We are doing healthy gamer coaching as parents, but he is refusing to sign up for coaching on his end. My guess is the name alone. The risk of losing games is not something he’d ever discuss right now. I swore up and down they won’t make him get rid of games lol! Did not work.
What’s dad doing? Half. Literally half at all times we make a plan at night and in the morning and check in with each other about it all day long. It’s so exhausting and Jake is just ready to do whatever it takes at this point as well. He’s having the same struggles as I am and is 100% convinced it’s an addiction and has listened to a lot of podcasts exc.
My new plan…. Because I have to have “something” or I might blow up. Now I have to let natural consequences take the lead. He doesn’t have a license, because he couldn’t pick up driving skills with how his brain is on games. We tried teaching him for two years and it was honestly dangerous sometimes after a “bender. He asked me to go tomorrow and after 9 hours I’m just going to say I’d feel more comfortable if he went to driving school and he can pay with the money he earns this summer. It j=is just not safe, why does he deserve to take my car and put me in an unsafe position? I don't have to allow that... but it feels like I am still the bad guy. Looking forward, IF he fails college....when he is home he cannot have our wifi, will contribute to groceries, phone bill, and rent. We live in a rural area and without a car he can’t work. I will not be driving a 20 year old to and from work due to his brain on games. It feels wrong. Maybe he can’t support his habit without working. That’s all the “what ifs” but rarely does life go exactly how you picture it. We will just continue to get creative and roll with it.
Does anyone have any advice on how to not enable but also let them be in charge of their own destiny? Not saying anything or giving him a sad look feels impossible but I did it tonight. J was able to pretend it did not bother me that he’s been on there forever. I think I can keep that up? But I also don’t want to enable him.
My family is hurting so much. So many hugs to anyone who struggled and is currently struggling. Same to the parents who have that knot that won’t go away. Thanks for reading

Reverse Logistics Market Overview:
A comprehensive examination of statistical data concerning current and emerging trends provides insight into the dynamics of the Reverse Logistics Market 2024-2034. The report employs Porter’s Five Forces framework to assess the significance of different aspects, including supplier and customer understanding, risks from various stakeholders, competitive intensity, and potential newcomers. Additionally, it encompasses research findings on various companies, including their benefits, gross margins, strategic choices in the global market, and more, presented through tables, charts, and infographics, thus serving as a valuable resource.

A new report dives into the global reverse logistics market, offering an in-depth analysis of opportunities and industry forecasts from 2024 to 2033. The market size in 2023 was estimated at a substantial USD 655.3 billion, and it's projected to grow at a healthy Compound Annual Growth Rate (CAGR) of 6.4% between 2023 and 2032. With 2023 as the starting point, the report explores future trends for the next decade.

In simpler terms, reverse logistics deals with managing the movement of goods back from customers to manufacturers or distributors. This can happen for various reasons, including product returns, recalls due to safety concerns, or simply reaching the end of a product's life cycle. As businesses strive for greater sustainability and efficiency, reverse logistics becomes an increasingly critical and intricate part of the entire supply chain. Analysts predict significant growth for the reverse logistics market in the coming years. Understanding the key factors driving this expansion will empower businesses to develop effective reverse logistics strategies that are not only efficient and cost-conscious, but also contribute to a more sustainable future.
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Key Players
C.H. Robinson, DB Schenker, Delcart, Deliveryontime Logistics Pvt. Ltd., FedEx Corporation, Kintetsu World Express, Reverse Logistics Company, The Deutsche Post AG, United Parcel Service, YUSEN LOGISTICS CO, LTD. and others.
Our expert team continuously gathers and analyzes updated data and information on the business processes of key players relevant to the market. This information is invaluable for shaping future strategies and making predictions regarding market trends.
Industry News

• In November 2023, Accenture announced its acquisition of OnProcess, a company that specializes in reverse logistics
• In October 2023, UPS announced its plans to acquire Happy Returns, a software and reverse logistics company, to expand its returns footprint and improve its digital solutions.
• In September 2023, the National Retail Federation (NRF) announced its acquisition of the Reverse Logistics Association (RLA), a global trade association for the returns and reverse industry.

Market Segments
The report offers an exhaustive examination of diverse market segments, providing insights into their respective market sizes and Compound Annual Growth Rates (CAGRs) to assess their attractiveness. It encompasses market forecasts for various regions, significant developments, revenue projections, and other pertinent factors to provide a comprehensive overview of the market landscape. The Reverse Logistics market is segmented By Return Type (Recalls, Commercial Returns, Repairable Returns, End-Of-Use Returns, And End-Of-Life Returns), By End User (E-Commerce, Automotive, Pharmaceutical, Consumer Electronic, And Others)
Drivers

• Surging online shopping translates to higher return volumes, necessitating efficient reverse logistics solutions.
• Rising demands for free and effortless returns pressure companies to refine their reverse logistics processes.

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Regional Analysis for Reverse Logistics Market:
The market undergoes regional analysis across North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, South America, and the Middle East & Africa.
⇥ North America (U.S., Canada, Mexico)
⇥ Europe (U.K., Italy, Germany, Russia, France, Spain, The Netherlands and Rest of Europe)
⇥ Asia-Pacific (India, Japan, China, South Korea, Australia, Indonesia Rest of Asia Pacific)
⇥ South America (Colombia, Brazil, Argentina, Rest of South America)
⇥ Middle East & Africa (Saudi Arabia, U.A.E., South Africa, Rest of Middle East & Africa)
This Report Unveils:
✔ Go to Market Strategy- A roadmap to successfully product launch or service in the target market.
✔ Gain a clear picture of the market's health and growth trajectory through neutral analysis.
✔ Deep Market Insights delve into development trends, competitor landscape, supply and demand dynamics, year-over-year growth patterns, and key players' performance. This comprehensive analysis will include a QMI quadrant to visualize competitor positioning.
✔ Upon request, we can provide customized reports focusing on specific regions or countries, offering a granular view of their markets.
✔ Identify high-potential niche segments and regions poised for significant expansion.
✔ Analysis of Market Size (historical and forecast) Total Addressable Market (TAM), Serviceable Available Market (SAM), and Serviceable Obtainable Market (SOM) to understand the market's overall size and your achievable market share.
✔ Gain a comprehensive understanding of the competitive landscape, including market share distribution, key players (innovators, startups, laggards, and pioneers), and their respective strengths and weaknesses.
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Few Points From the Reverse Logistics Market Report
1. Reverse Logistics Market in a Nutshell: This section provides a concise summary of the report, including the research scope (timeframe, methodology), key players covered, market segmentation (product types, applications, regions), study objectives, and the years considered in the analysis.
2. Competitive Landscape: This chapter delves into the competitive landscape of the global Reverse Logistics market. It analyzes key players based on factors like sales figures, market share, growth rates, recent developments (acquisitions, expansions), pricing strategies, and product portfolios.
3. Top Players: This section focuses on the leading Reverse Logisticsmanufacturers worldwide. It provides detailed profiles of these companies, examining their sales performance, core products, profitability (gross margin), revenue streams, pricing strategies, and production capacity.
4. Regional Analysis: This chapter explores the Reverse Logistics market across different regions: North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Middle East & Africa, and South America. It analyzes regional market size, growth rates (CAGR), sales figures, market share distribution, and gross margin variations.
5. Market Segmentation: This section offers a deep dive into the Reverse Logistics market segmentation. It analyzes how different segments (product types, applications, end-users) contribute to the overall market size and growth.
6. Future Outlook: This chapter focuses on the production side of the market. It forecasts production volumes and value, key producer trends, and production forecasts based on product types.
7. Key Findings and Insights: This section summarizes the report's key findings and offers valuable insights derived from the market analysis.
8. Conclusion: This final chapter presents the overall conclusion of the research study, summarizing the key takeaways and future prospects for the Reverse Logistics market.
Frequently Asked Questions:
⇥ What are the global sales value, production value, consumption value, and import and export figures for the Reverse Logistics market?
⇥ Who are the key global manufacturers in the Reverse Logistics industry, and what is their current operational status in terms of capacity, production, sales, pricing, costs, gross profit, and revenue?
⇥ What opportunities and threats do vendors in the global Reverse Logistics industry face?
⇥ Which product types or applications are likely to experience incremental growth opportunities? What is the market share for each type and application?
⇥ What factors are driving and constraining the Reverse Logistics market's growth?
⇥ What are the various sales, marketing, and distribution channels utilized within the global industry?
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(I initially posted this on Advice and got next to no responses, so I'm trying again here, though I'm not sure if this subreddit is the best fit for it)
For context, her grandfather passed away a couple years ago due to COVID. She loved her grandfather very much, and they were very close, so she was devastated when he passed. On top of that, the rest of her family (including her parents) aren't exactly great people, and so her relationships with them are very strained. And that makes her miss her grandfather even more. Once, she forgot the anniversary of her grandfather's death and when she realised, she started sobbing profusely. So there's no doubt he meant a lot to her.
The nightmare itself more or less follows the same pattern every time: she murders her grandfather and hides the body somewhere, then her mother discovers it, and yells at her and berates her.
Last night she broke down in front of her mother, and instead of comforting my girlfriend, her mother just said "you've always had these dreams" and wrote her off. Mind you, they were laying in bed together while this was happening, and once my girlfriend stopped crying, her mom just turned her back and promptly went to sleep.
I really want to help my girlfriend by doing more than just comforting her, but I am not sure how. She does enjoy murder documentary/true crime content, and I suggested that that may have something to do with it, but as far as I know she hasn't been able to watch/listen to that kind of stuff in a while.
Therapy did occur to me, but finding a good therapist who won't try to scam you is notoriously difficult in the country we live in. Plus my girlfriend is still in university and depends on her parents, and being who they are (on top of being brown people) there's no chance they would allow her to go to therapy. I'm quite happy to pay for it myself, but there's no way she'd get permission to leave the house. So I'm afraid therapy is going to be off the table for a while.
TLDR: Girlfriend has recurring nightmare where she kills her late, beloved grandfather, almost everyone else in her family is unsupportive, therapy is not an option at the moment. Any way I could help her?