Everyone seems to be digging this album, so I suppose ill strike while the iron is hot here - does anyone else find the level of lyricism in this album not only a high point for the band (though frankly, they've always had good lyricism especially for the scene they're in), but also just very solid even out of the musical context?
I'll admit to being a bit of a nerd when it comes to writing and lit, and after listening to the album I sat down and listened again while reading through the lyrics of each song as they played and was left with a few standouts.
1) From the initial track, 'Thirst.'
Followed by the thirst An honest gaze left broken and marred
...
Dragging my knuckles Forward but through the mud Secluded lower form Sickened by my thirst for change
..
Though not the strongest lyrics on the album, still evocative imagery and impressively emotionally compelling while also being careful in its diction. Like the message of the song (and extending to the album, really) the song comes with a sense of jagged brevity which to me adds to the poignancy of it. It also sets the continuing motif of water being an agent of change, the process of grief and loss (of people, identity, and faith) being the core of the album.
2) From 'Don't Reach For Me'
I dream of a cleansing wave Reborn Don't reach for me No lies can spread (Spread, spread) From a tongue removed
..
I dream of a cleansing wave Set me free I return to form No longer bound to mе
Though this track is much more on the nose, largely characterized by the visceral and aggressive dogma that metalcore is known for, is still points back to the previous ideals and symbolism established in the initial tracks. Again we are lent the idea that water will wash away (erode, even) our imperfections. Change will aid in the 'return to form,' grief and harbored grudges 'no longer bound to me.'
3) This one is cheating, as it's really the whole song of 'Moss Covers All' with its 46 second run time:
This house just swallows me It doesn't feel like it did before Trapped in endless rain Barren moor
And all the vines will find their way Through the dirt and hardened clay
The wind and rain will force decay Moss covers all
This frankly reads pretty well even as spoken word poetry. From the established messages of conflicting ideals of faith, self, and loss, we are given the line 'Trapped in endless rain, barren moor.' This deep into the album the layers have been stripped away, and we get the image of rocks, stripped and naked (barren) being exposed to the harsh elements of rain (water) again. Over time, despite everything, this allows moss and roots to crack and mold them. Neat.
4) Jumping from 'Moss Covers All' immediately into 'The Calm that keeps You Awake'
You fill your home with waves Nothing still can stay When the storm starts to recede Parting clouds reveal your grief Nothing still can stay
Hey look at that! Water enacting change again. Who'da thunk? While not super overt and beating you over the head every track, the album continues its steady use of the metaphor. I'm impressed by how lyrically cohesive and well stated the album is, with this never coming across as corny. Again, the imagery lent from the lyrics are both very well done and somewhat understated, especially when examined through the context of typical metalcore lyricism.
5) Closing with 'Sit and Mourn'
Collecting petals of every memory All I'm left with is all I know (I know) Finding my own time to sit and mourn Grief that spreads but will not show
..
A test at every turn All I focus on is strength I will carry you through fire
Loss we share means swallowing pain Will you inherit my grief If I finally choose to sleep?
..
"Why'd you leave?" "I feel like I'vе failed."
I really, really like this closing track. The amazing mixing, use of ambience, and killer vocals / instrumentals aside, I found the change in expression super neat here. Once again we are given the notion of grief expressed as petals. i.e. plant life and growth. While capable of shattering and eroding rocks (barren moore, yada yada) it also can create beauty. Grief then once again can be seen as spreading through the soil, unseen from above.
This final use of the recurrent theme is then given its needed closing juxtaposition, as they express the strength needed to 'carry you through fire.' While the grief and doubt expressed thus far has always been in the processing stage, prone to mourning and self reflection, in this last closing cacophony we are seeing the narrator of the album push aside their own feelings to help someone through the immediate feelings of loss and rage and pain that come from a fresh loss. Then, we get the expressed doubt of if the narrator gives up, will the party they are helping have that fire smolder and die? Will they find themselves dealing with the cold, liquid grief we've heard about up to this point?
The final eerie quote from this track implies that this did happen, and the cycle of the album will continue as this person who could not be helped slips into the thirst for change within their heart, and the constant state of erosion granted by that search.
TL;DR - This album rocks in a lot of ways, and I think the lyrics are a huge part.

Shortly before a final paper with pre-assigned topics was due for one of my last courses at Columbia University, our professor sent us an email telling us to forego the previous parameters of the essay, and to instead write about the events that had occurred not even forty-eight hours earlier, as well as our reflections on them, to be done in any manner we chose. Here is a very lightly revised version of what I submitted: read it, ignore it, upvote it, downvote it, hate it, love it.
I am prefacing this essay by stating that it is the culmination of several intense emotions that I have been dealing with over the last few weeks, more specifically, the last several days. It is a free-form expression of the many things occupying my mind, and, as such, it may seem overwhelming or disjointed. Nevertheless, I will do my best to convey my feelings into something representative of my beliefs, and my time at this institution.
My time at Columbia University has been bookended in an almost comically bad way; it started with Zoom classes during the COVID-19 pandemic, and now it ends with Zoom final exams due to the lockdown of Columbia’s campus after protests regarding the Israel – Palestine conflict reached a fever pitch not just within Morningside Campus, but the international stage. My classmates and I missed in-person orientation, and now, given recent developments, we will not have a University Commencement, a fact I found out not from Columbia, but a New York Times alert, somehow lowering my opinion of this administration’s handling of recent events even more. While the circumstances around my time at Columbia have now both begun and finished in the same manner, I am proud to say that I have not. I do not mean that Columbia has simply made me a better writer, a more critical thinker, or more well read, although it certainly has done those things, sometimes forcing me to when I was not particularly in the mood to do so, but those improvements pale in comparison to the maturity and empathy my time at this university has given me.
When the decision to transition to remote learning during the Spring 2020 semester was made, occurring only a short time after I had received my acceptance letter (email), my first thought was how the pandemic would affect my transfer from community college to Columbia in September. Admittedly, this was a selfish perspective, considering the tremendous challenges that many would endure during the ensuing lockdowns and other upheavals of life. My concerns were solely focused on myself because I was on a simple track to graduate, place my degree on my resumé, and continue my trajectory of military service to college to employment, leaving little else to consideration, to include other people who were not in my immediate circle. Sitting here now, two weeks from graduation, with a job at a Fortune 500 company lined up, I should be happy, with the plans I had made years ago coming to fruition. Yet I cannot help feeling a sense of sadness and concern for the school I have spent years of my life at, and for the world as a whole.
James Hatch, a former member of the United States’s elite Naval Special Warfare Development Group, or DEVGRU, for short, more commonly known by its nickname, Seal Team Six, famous for its involvement in the killing of Osama Bin Laden and the rescue of the Maersk Alabama Captain Richard Phillips from pirates, amongst other things, spent over twenty years in the military. After being wounded on a mission to rescue American serviceman sergeant Bowe Bergdahl from enemy forces, he was medically discharged, and would eventually attend Yale University. While there, he wrote a piece titled My Semester with the Snowflakes (please give this a read, it will help people who have never been in the military understand its culture, along with some of the challenges veterans face when transitioning to college), where he details his initial discomfort with being in a vastly different environment than the military, surrounded by individuals who possessed opinions and beliefs contrary to the ones he was accustomed to. He recalls witnessing a student protest the country he spent over two decades serving by coating her hand in red paint, and leaving a palm print on an American flag, and details his shock when a classmate of his explained to him what a “safe space” was, as well as his pride when he began to understand the nuances of life both inside and outside of the nation he dedicated twenty-six years to.
I can relate to Mr. Hatch, (despite my service paling in comparison to his, as well as the fact that Columbia is far superior to Yale), because, like his friends who make fun of him for attending college with a bunch of “snowflakes,” mine do the same. More significantly, however, his personal growth during his time at school is something that I have experienced myself. When I started at Columbia, I did not even know which major I would choose, and was largely lost in a world very different than the one I had come from. Despite this, I made the decision to avoid communities such as MilVets and the students who made it very clear that they came from a military background, with their style of dress and demeanor, not because those organizations and individuals are a detriment; I know for a fact that MilVets has helped countless students succeed at Columbia and beyond, and the veterans that I have relationships with are all phenomenal people, but because I wanted to pressure myself into being exposed to something different. I was uncomfortable at first, but this turned out to be the right decision. I learned as much from simply talking to people whom I would normally never converse with about topics and ideas that I had never encountered as I did during classes about great works of art, polar and Cartesian coordinates, literature, astronomy, the list goes on.
If the protests about the Israel – Palestine conflict had occurred when I first started at Columbia, I would have been frustrated by the students taking up space, forcing us to be funneled on to campus by restricted access points and identification checks. Likely irritated by the disturbance of the quiet during finals season, I would have agreed with the people who called for students to simply focus on their assignments and stop inconveniencing others by shouting about something occurring on the other side of the world. Instead, I decided to learn about the conflict, educating myself about both sides of a war that has roots extending back millennia. While Columbia University did not agree to the demands of the protestors, they achieved something else they surely desired, reaching a goal they did not state to President Shafik and her advisors: they brought attention to their cause by educating at least one additional person about it.
After reading, talking to people, listening to input from students within various classes, and understanding that things such as the intertwined nature of financial workings, as well as conflicts not just in the Middle East, but all over the world, are a level of complexity that baffles some of the most brilliant minds of ours and previous generations, I will leave my thoughts about Israel and Palestine separate from this paper. I recognize that it is important to choose a side, as remaining impartial helps no one. However, when every news agency, group and individual makes their voice heard, satirical sources such as The Onion make these kind of posts, or Adult Swim’s Rick, the nihilistic, narcissistic, psychopathic, misanthropic lead character from the series Rick and Morty, addresses the conflict in this manner, I feel that it is better to relegate myself to a much smaller part of this debate, namely the occurrences on Columbia University’s Morningside Campus.
During basic training for the United States Army, a sense of brotherhood and camaraderie is hammered into recruits’ identities. When you graduate and are assigned to a unit, one where you could be thousands of miles from home on the opposite side of the country, or even in a completely different country, serving on one of the international bases, approaching someone who you have never met before is easy. Talking to them about shared experiences and stories you have in common, and the bonding that occurs, is the product of an indoctrination process and lifestyle that has existed longer than any of us have been alive, and is proof of its effectiveness. This sense of familiarity tends to continue even when one leaves the military. The Veterans of Foreign Wars community is a place for prior servicemembers of all conflicts to share a drink, a laugh, and sometimes a tear. When I go to the Veterans Administration Hospital for periodic check-ups or the occasional injury, men and woman wearing hats commemorating their service during Vietnam waiting for their appointments greet me with a smile and a handshake, as if we have known each other for years. While working at a golf club’s greens department before I transferred to Columbia from community college, a coworker of mine who had served in the Gulf War had heard from our supervisor that I had been in the Army, and he introduced himself to me on my first day, before anyone else, telling me that if I needed anything, I only had to ask. This camaraderie has expanded to encompass not just veterans, but first responders such as firemen, EMT’s, and the police as well.
Underneath the picture on my driver’s license, the word “veteran” is emblazoned next to a star, written in bright red text and all capital letters. I know for a fact that this one-and-a-half-inch indicator has helped me during interactions with law enforcement on multiple occasions. Only earlier this semester, during Presidents’ Day weekend, I went upstate to spend time with my family. While driving back, in an effort to make the seven-hour trip at a reasonable time, I was stopped for going twenty miles-per-hour over the speed limit. The officer who pulled me over, initially reserved, became noticeably more friendly when I handed him my license and registration. Ultimately, he gave me what amounted to a parking ticket for my actions, rather than the point-incurring, heavily fined moving violation he could have charged me with.
The ‘Thin Blue Line,’ as it is known, is a reference to the idea that the police are the barrier between law abiding citizens and criminals, order and chaos. The most common representation of this concept is a black-and-white American flag, with a single blue line in the place where a red or white stripe would normally be. This style has been expanded to include numerous other colors representing other first-responders: green for the military, red and white no longer to be interpreted as the traditional stripes of the American flag, but instead meant to represent the fire department and paramedics, and even grey for corrections officers. Seeing the appropriation of one of the most iconic symbols in the world, one that flies above the White House, schools, homes, national and international events, and even the Moon, I can say, as someone who has been unwillingly entangled within that appropriation, is nothing short of terrifying.
The fact that these entities and their supporters have literally sewn themselves into the fabric of the symbol of our nation makes one think that there is little room for the countless other occupations, aspects and people that make up this country. The idea of the police being the sole protectors of our society is patently absurd, and all one must do is point out the many instances of police brutality occurring over the years to refute it. I find myself thinking of how much power the officer who stopped me just three months ago had over me. Initially, I was happy that I had received a slap on the wrist, but recently I have found myself wondering what if my license did not state that I was a veteran, would he have charged me with a ticket that would have had much more serious implications? What if he was simply having a bad day, and he decided he did not like the look of me, or the color of my car, and I was the one who he ultimately decided to vent his frustrations on? This traffic infraction, an incredibly small incident compared to all the turmoil in the world, one that involves two strangers, supposedly bonded by our professions, on the side of a quiet, New York highway, serves as a metaphor to me, reminding me of the power structures at play on a much larger scale.
On April 22^nd, 2024, I received this email, one of the many Clery Crime Alerts that students are automatically sent. An affiliate of Columbia University had their car stolen at gunpoint by two masked men on Claremont Avenue, not even a five-minute walk from campus. I skimmed the report, and almost immediately forgot about it, recognizing that crime is an inevitability in major cities, and that I needed to start my commute to school. Days later, on the night of April 30^th, 2024, I received another email from Columbia, containing one of the most ominous messages I had ever seen, one that put the kind of fear in my heart that not even the alert of an armed carjacking could. Columbia’s Emergency Management Operations Team, offering no explanations, specifications, or even a greeting or sign-off, wrote in bold letters these three sentences: “Shelter in place for your safety due to heightened activity on the Morningside campus. Non-compliance may result in disciplinary action. Avoid the area until further notice.” Due to the protests on campus during recent weeks, President Shafik testifying before Congress, Columbia’s role as one of the main catalysts for student protests around the country, and the occupation of Hamilton Hall occurring in the earlier hours of that day, it was not hard to figure out what the email was referencing. Over the next several hours, I followed news agencies, remained glued to the Columbia subreddit, and listened to WKCR, in awe of these eighteen- to twenty-two-year-old students putting themselves at risk to deliver on the ground, accurate, unbiased coverage of one of the most significant events in the school’s history.
While tracking the events from multiple perspectives, to include the social media accounts of those near and on campus live streaming them, I held out hope that the university would make good on their promise from several days earlier to not invite the NYPD back, but a frightening picture began to unfold, one that I was intimately familiar with. One WKCR reporter stated that 114^th street had so many officers on it that he could not see the asphalt of the road beneath them, and I knew that the staging area the NYPD had chosen was one of the best routes for moving towards what the military, and presumably law enforcement, would call an ‘objective.’ The officers cleared the smaller ‘objective,’ the largely unoccupied tents in front of Butler, and then moved towards Hamilton Hall, ordering even those not associated with its occupation to disperse, raising my stress levels and likely those of others, as it is rarely a good sign when police do not want their actions recorded and archived. After the initial entry to campus and clearing of areas and people in the immediate vicinity of Hamilton Hall, came the Long-Range Acoustic Device, or LRAD, a device that makes a megaphone sound like a whisper, and one known for its crowd-control potential, capable of producing sounds loud enough to cause damage to ear-drums, nausea, and headaches, ordering individuals to clear away. The NYPD began its execution of tactics in a way that my fellow soldiers and I used to rehearse, tactics I never dreamed that I would witness outside of the military, and certainly not by police officers who vastly outnumbered unarmed students on their own campus. The NYPD created a perimeter, or a ‘second layer of security’ to both provide reinforcements for the officers entering the building, and to prevent the fleeing of what are called ‘squirters,’ or individuals who attempt to escape the building after the raid begins. While the ‘breach’ team moved towards the front doors, using tools from a ‘hooligan kit,’ such as bolt cutters, hand-held battering rams and crowbars, a siege machine was brought in to allow access from a window; when taking over a building, the idea is to overwhelm it from as many different directions as possible to better disorient and overwhelm its occupants. Flash-bang grenades, described as non-lethal, but known to have harmful effects, were thrown inside, presumably before entering any room, hallway, or otherwise enclosed area to minimize the resistance of anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of what can only be described as an assault on the visual and auditory senses. According to the Manhattan District Attorney, one of the officers inside Hamilton Hall had what is called in the military a “negligent discharge,” meaning his firearm went off unintentionally. While no one was hurt, the question remains why at least one, and more likely, numerous other officers were carrying guns loaded with live ammunition in the first place, when they so drastically outmatched the protestors in numbers and equipment. Additionally, a negligent discharge is an act of incompetence that would result in an active-duty soldier facing serious consequences, and derision from his peers. So far, the officer remains defended by his coworkers, and unpunished by his superiors.
As all this unfolded, I communicated with my friends from the past and present. My friends from the military checked on me to ensure that I was okay, as did my friends from school. The difference in how they viewed these events highlights what I believe is the change in myself that I stated I am most proud of at the beginning of this paper. My friends from the military were commenting that the assertion of order and control by way of militarized tactics was necessary, not concerning themselves with the human toll and destruction of trust that came along with it. Conversely, my schoolmates lamented the brutality and overstepping of boundaries that the NYPD and Columbia’s administration committed, one that turned a place meant to be a beacon of free speech, expression, and ideas, into what is now a police-state with strict control over who enters it.
My education inside and outside the classroom at this institution has challenged, thrilled, and changed me. Sitting here now, at the end of this paper, the end of the semester, and the end of my time at Columbia University, I am left feeling confused and sad regarding recent events, but also hopeful for the future. I know from experience that the students, teachers, and culture of this school have the power to encourage critical thinking and initiate personal growth. If it did those things for me, surely it can do the same for others

I’ve been struggling with acne ever since grade 9. It was never really really bad where I considered taking Accutane however it was always there and my parents were always telling me to take it. I exhausted every other option and medication throughout all those years (I just finished my 1st year of uni). I spend thousands of dollars on skin care products and while my face never fully cleared it would go through stages where it cleared enough for me to be okay with it. Fast forward to grade 12, my face really broke out in result to threading it , and it took a big toll on me so I decided to see a dermatologist to ask for tretinoin, which would be my last resort before Accutane.
When I started tret it did clear up my face but not how I wanted. So after about 6 months or more on tret I finally decided to just suck it up and go on Accutane. My brother went on it as well and it cleared his face great and he never noticed any side effects.
It’s been since February 1st 2024 and I’m on my 2 weeks into my fourth month. While Accutane has absolutely cleared my skin amazingly I have been dealing with sooo many effects. My doctor started me on 40mg off the bat (she said the 20mg is kinda pointless derms are saying to just start off 40 to speed up the process).
Month one (40mg): my lips were dry but it wasn’t horrible, I was getting weird chest pains every now and then, my lower back pain was definitely there but wasn’t debilitating, my hair line was slightly thinning, my nose was constantly bloody but not runny it was just like chunks of blood, and my excema flared up majorly. My face is also always flushed and red lol.
Month two (40mg) : same same, my nose started hurting to like touch and push up, it’s started getting stuffy allll the time, back pain was still prominent, excema still really bad, skin very sensitive, my mood went crazy. I started getting less motivated and way more agitated, my patience lowered more than it usually is and I found I was getting angry quicker. I was already depressed lol so i dont know if it made it worse or not cause it’s normal. My hips were extremely tight and sore. And i dont know if this correlated but my nose started to always be moist. Like always wet for no reason. And a lot of farting to be honest.
I also don’t know if this has any correlation but I’m a very active person and Accutane has made me excessively sweaty. I could just be sitting in my bed and my hands will be drenched in sweat which is so out of the ordinary
Pros: Lips were not too dry, face was glowing, I didn’t get much of a purge at all, nose got smaller and eyelashes a little longer, back and chest acne cleared.
Month three and 2 weeks into four is when it got pretty rough. I got started on 60mg and I noticed:
-my lips significantly dryer it’s killing me -my back pain has been absolutely horrible I can barley do anything - major headaches - my hair is so much thinner and fragile in comparison to my usual thick curly hair -my nose is always wet, stuffy, and bloody - my excema is horrible -my skin cut so much easier it was so sensitive and thin - sweaty - same nose shit -my eyes burn a lot and get heavy quicker
Now how I battled these side effects

• dry lips = aquaphor and Vaseline layered -nose nothing -back pain = pills and heating pad and rest
• hair thinning= less heat, fable and mane hair oil every hair day shower, less slick backs, less shampoo, hair masks. It still hasn’t helped much to be honest but I’m hoping it will go back to normal when I’m off it. -excema= prescribed meds and excema relief euricine cream

Stretching hydrating resting and gaslighting myself to believe that it’s not that deep and it’s all a mind game. The side effects will only come if you think of them.
My skin care routine is my holy grail. My face is sooo hydrated and glowy and I honestly give credit to my routine. It’s plain and simple.
Morning - rinse with water and dr.jart moisturizer and clarins sun screen
Night- la Roche pose cleanser, first aid beauty moisturizer, sometimes I put on Mederma scar cream but the absolute must is the la Roche pose c3 balm. That shit Is amazing and I’ve been using it for monthssss.
My predicament is that I’m going back gone to leb in July (their hottest month) and that would also be my last month on this cycle. I really wanna tan and stuff so how bad is the sun on Accutane? Also I’m also considering maybe stopping a month early? Do you guys think that’s a bad idea and will get rid of all my progress?
My doctors said a cycle is 6 months but the derms are saying to do an additional 2 to cement the process. But I don’t want to because if so harsh.
What do you guys think?

Hi there, I'm new here. Would like to ask questions about ethernet cables.

1. If my router and receiver both do support CAT8 (or only support router on most cases), does the internet runs faster compare to other CAT cables? (Example my internet speed can reach up to 300Mpbs, with CAT5 vs CAT8 are both of them can reach high speed, or will get bottleneck?)
2. I saw some comments on YouTube saying that CAT8 has also lower ping compared to other cables. Not sure that if its true? (I also play a lot of games of course I do hope lower ping as well)
3. Does longer ethernet cables really affect the ping and speed of the internet? (Or the loss can be negligible in real life maybe?)
4. I saw brands and reviews, comments on UGreen or Vention has good quality cable. But I also saw some comments saying that flat cables we need to lookout for, as it maybe fake. (UGreen and Vention has ethernet flat cables and even 360 rotating cables too and some said its better to buy a round cable since the cables inside has some layer of protections) I would like to ask how true it is and is it plausible to buy flat cable.
5. One last thing, is better CAT cables with larger number really "futureproof"? (not sure on this, but I want to spend my money wisely so that it is worth it.)

Anyone which has experience of the brands please give short review or comments, or anyone really good at this knowledge please do help me to solve my doubts. Thank you everyone!

Hi there, I'm new here. Would like to ask questions about ethernet cables.

1. If my router and receiver both do support CAT8 (or only support router on most cases), does the internet runs faster compare to other CAT cables? (Example my internet speed can reach up to 300Mpbs, with CAT5 vs CAT8 are both of them can reach high speed, or will get bottleneck?)
2. I saw some comments on YouTube saying that CAT8 has also lower ping compared to other cables. Not sure that if its true? (I also play a lot of games of course I do hope lower ping as well)
3. Does longer ethernet cables really affect the ping and speed of the internet? (Or the loss can be negligible in real life maybe?)
4. I saw brands and reviews, comments on UGreen or Vention has good quality cable. But I also saw some comments saying that flat cables we need to lookout for, as it maybe fake. (UGreen and Vention has ethernet flat cables too and some said its better to buy a round cable since the cables inside has some layer of protections) I would like to ask how true it is and is it plausible to buy flat cable.
5. One last thing, is better CAT cables with larger number really "futureproof"? (not sure on this, but I want to spend my money wisely so that it is worth it.)

Anyone which has experience of the brands please give short review or comments, or anyone really good at this knowledge please do help me to solve my doubts. Thank you everyone!

Thirteen days ago I went to the beach from 12:30pm-3:30pm. I put SPF 70 all over my body, but I went swimming and didn't reapply during that time. My entire back and the back of my legs burned but I felt nothing while at the beach so had no idea. It wasn't until a couple hours after I got home that it started to hurt and my skin turned red. The next few days were absolutely unbearable. My skin turned a dark purply-red and the pain penetrated deep into the layers of my skin. I had not been sunburned in 20 years before this and have never been burned this badly. 50% of my body was covered in burns.
On the 9th day I got two blisters and the skin started peeling. The pain has subsided but it is still painful 13 days later and it is still peeling and itchy.
What I'm most worried about is the discoloration. I am super super pale. The skin is still extremely dark and it's not a normal tan. I'm afraid that I will be discolored forever or that it has caused scarring. How much longer will it take for my skin to go back to normal color?

Okay this is semi rant, semi genuine curiosity: how do you manage being overlooked for an internal vacancy when you essentially filled that role and seemed to get on really well?
If you care to read on: we have a 3 layer structure, me, my boss and her boss (let's call them Jim). My boss left 8 months ago and I have essentially been left to fend for myself, Jim seemed to think we'd have a newbie in no time... we didn't!
I have been praised left and right, I am so proud for not dropping a ball and I have really pushed myself. Jim is my (temporary?) line manager, but he's so busy I have been left to it - he praises me, my end of year feedback is just bland positive.
Bosses' vacancy eventually came up after her job became permanent (she seconded out, no one went for the 6 month secondment vacancy). I applied after some thought - the team supported me and kept talking like I was a natural choice...
I interviewed (just by Jim). Judged to be immediately unsuccessful, no less than 12 hours after interview. No other applicants, so the vacancy remains live as it has done for 3 months (longer, if you count the secondment vacancy).
I don't get it. Im so angry i feel shaky when i think about it. Part of me doesn't even want to ask for feedback. Jim is an odd bod, a little two-faced - but we get on so well, why would he interview me if I had no chance? We're struggling for applicants, haven't I done enough?
The interview was a technical presentation and other Qs on management style. I prepared so thoroughly and I feel like a fool for thinking I had a chance. I wish I had never gone for it, but then I also think maybe this is a sign to move on.
I just don't get it... I think application processes must be fair, but surely you have to consider the logistics of interviewing someone internal for that vacancy, rejecting them, and expecting them to continue merrily on their way fulfilling a role until the vacancy is filled?! Jim is on leave, then I'm on leave for a week - don't know how I'll cope in our next catch up, I kind of want to never mention it again.

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

The discriminatory practices perpetrated by TLS Contact, including racial profiling and exploitative tactics like overcharging for passport photos, strike at the heart of fairness and equality in the application process. Moreover, the possibility of mishandling documents adds another layer of concern, jeopardizing the integrity of applications.
The unjust rejections by embassies, based not on concrete evidence but on mere speculation, represent a grave injustice. Such arbitrary decisions not only waste applicants' money but also perpetuate a system that favors privilege over merit.
By advocating for refundable applications, we strive to rectify these injustices and ensure accountability in the application process. As individuals from "third world" countries, we are disproportionately impacted by these exploitative systems and must unite in demanding change. Let's not tolerate this injustice any longer; let's be the voices that resonate and bring about meaningful reform in this unjust system. We need more people that see through this system that’s highly exploitative including the current heavy rejections from embassies that are based on nothing. You’ll obviously never hear about this if we don’t speak about it cause it doesn’t affect Europeans we need to expose this system to have a fair and better treatment as applicants and if you don’t think this is important keep it pushing I’m talking to applicants that are tired and see through this bullshit system.

Hey, gang, I have come across an issue with a wayspot that I have not had before.
Hopefully someone knows what is going on and can advise.
I've got several wayspots accepted since I started, I try really hard to find good candidates and describe them well without mentioning games, I make sure they are safe and hit the criteria, so while I don't have a ton all the ones I have put forth, have been accepted.
Up until this last one, all of them have shown up in IITC (also in pokemonGo and Ingress) the day after I get notified of the acceptance.
This last one is the first one that falls inside the same cell on ITTC as another one, so I am thinking it might show up as a Gym, or force the first one into a state of Gym-ness in pokemongo. But since is the first time I've gotten one in a cell with one other, I do not know if the timeline for this is different now.
So it is now well past time that it normally refreshes and the new spot would show up, and there is no new spot in PGo, Ingress OR IITC.
I got the notification it was accepted yesterday, right before local refresh, so I assumed it would be there today.
I have double checked that I have all the layers I need showing in IITC, and I can see the other, existing, wayspots in the area just fine.
So my Question is, would it be longer than normal if it were going to force a gym in pGo? Or is there a reason it's not showing up in IITC even though it's been accepted? Like, are they behind on the refresh or something? (just spit-balling possible reasons, I have no clue)
​
Any insight you all can give me is appreciated, and I will try and clarify the situation if you have questions, just ask.
TL;DR accepted wayspot not showing in IITC after refresh, any reasons why this would happen and at what point have it been too long and I should contact someone with a bug report? An do I contact Niantic or IITC?

Hello mold subreddit. First time reddit poster here. Thank you in advance for any insight you can offer to my case. In what follows, I'm going to first describe the health journey that led to my mold discoveries and questions, so please bear with me through the health stuff. I have included excessive detail in the hopes that my case might help others navigate possible mold problems.
If you don't feel like reading all the below, the tl:dr version: After struggling with unknown health issues for 15 months, I eventually linked my symptoms to my new home and subsequently discovered very high volatile organic chemical levels. I linked the VOCs to mold. I also had a mold inspection done, and the results are at the bottom of this post. The levels of mold were high in my kitchen and bathroom. However, oddly, the mold levels in the outside control group were much higher than inside. Can anyone help me understand how high my indoor mold levels are? Does anyone know whether the outdoor levels are reasonably normal? Is my specific blend of mold types implicated in neurological symptoms for others? And if anyone has dealt with mold before, do my possible mold symptoms described below seem similar to ones that you've had?
I bought my townhome in late 2022. Within four months, I started having new neurological symptoms. These symptoms started with a postural tremor in my left index finger and thumb. The same hand eventually began to appear smaller and shriveled, especially around my thumb. I also started having extremely frequent muscle twitches and jerks. These twitches take three general forms:

1. The most common is an odd sensation of something wiggling under my skin. These primarily happen in my face, around my mouth, my butt/legs, and ribs.
2. A pulsing regular beat in a muscle that lasts for several seconds and in some cases longer. These usually happen near joints, especially just above my elbows and knees. These are almost always visible to the naked eye.
3. A sensation of rapid vibrating underneath the skin that lasts briefly. These vibrations are usually not visible but you can feel them if you press a hand over the area.

The twitches and apparent change to my hand have lasted for 16 months. At this point, the tissue loss in my thumb is also apparent in my forearm and upper left arm. My leg on the same side arm appears different and feels as if it has lost some muscle. I also have frequent trembling with specific muscles when I flex them. For example, sometimes when I try to hold a smile my face muscles will shake or give out. My neck tissues are especially liable to shake and vibrate when flexed, such as when doing tasks like flossing where I need to hold my lips back. On a few separate occasions, I have felt slight paralysis on one side of my face for an evening or so that then mysteriously goes away.
Aside from these neurological symptoms, I also have had frequent hoarseness, sneezing, jaw pain, and headaches. My joints often feel like they are more bony and poppy, especially in my left knee and knuckles. In addition, I've had a lot of issues with one ear on the same side as the shriveled hand. The ear had an apparent infection or cloudiness 12 months ago that went away, it then had recurrent pulsatile tinnitus, and now it just occasionally hurts at random times. There have been many other symptoms.
I have seen two neurologists, an endocrinologist, an ear-nose-throat doctor, and an orthopedic doctor. I've had countless tests done including two electromyographies (EMGs) over my whole body several months apart, an MRI, and a lyme disease blood panel. Every test has been normal, although the orthopedic doctor suggested possible thoracic outlet syndrome. The neurologist said my nerves are quite robust. My borrelia blood panel came back negative, although as a side note I did have a tick bite in early 2022 that caused a rash. I was treated for Lyme with 10 days of doxycycline. The tick bite itself still occasionally flares up red and its timing might be correlated with my symptoms.
Back to the house-- I was on a two week vacation out of state and noticed my twitches go away. Then I saw my arm become more normal sized again and the veins start to come back. I didn't feel the same joint issues, had no hoarseness, lost the headaches. All the symptoms came back as soon as I returned home, but nevertheless after that vacation and subsequent extended trips, I was able to conclude with a reasonable level of confidence that these symptoms are linked to the house. I bought an air filter and an air quality monitor that shows volatile organic chemicals, PM, formaldehyde, and C02.
Using the air quality monitor, I discovered that volatile organic chemicals (VOCs) and formaldehyde were usually abnormally high and sometimes extremely high. VOCs are usually above safety thresholds at >0.5 mg/m3 and formaldehyde >0.1 mg/m3. Sometimes, the VOC levels will stay consistently above 1.8mg/m3. I witnessed them reach a peak level of 5mg/3 in one bedroom late at night when I was woken up by a feeling of shortness of breath. I tried but failed to correlate these high VOCs to electronics, chemical sources in the home, cooking sources, heaters, and cleaning supplies. The way the VOCs would spike all over the house for no apparent reason in the evening helped me rule out some of these other possibilities. I also actively removed other sources.
Eventually, I realized that the VOCs were likely caused by mold, so-called microbial VOCs. The formaldehyde could also be explained by mold. The levels of VOCs would spike on rainy days, when the humidity was high inside, and in the evening. I don't think any other chemical source near the house would display this pattern. It took me a while to reach this conclusion because the mold issue in my house isn't too obvious. The house has always had a slight musty smell, especially if the air is stagnant for a while. The bathroom also has recurring mold growth on a tiles, in the shower, and on the various shower liners. A couple cabinets in the kitchen have always smelled musty. I didn't think these obvious signs of mold growth were that big of a deal, but given the extremely high levels of VOCs I now believe the mold has always been the issue.
Once I realized it was likely mold, I started noticing all the signs. The house is about 100 years old. The prior two owners of this house each moved out within five months. The house is not ventilated except from windows. It sits in a damp area near where water puddles up in the yard. It's mostly solid brick, so the house frame has a way of trapping hot air and releasing a lot of moisture onto the floors each evening. There's also a cheap layer of vinyl flooring throughout that could easily cover up a massive mold problem underneath. Finally, the townhome sits on top of an old shared crawl space that was used as a furnace. It has had known water puddling issues for which reason a vapor guard was installed underneath my first floor.
So, I had a mold inspection done. The results are at the bottom of this post. The bathroom results might be diluted because I left the window open the night before. Nevertheless, both my kitchen and bathroom had mold detected at levels between 6480 - 12,300 spores/m3. Oddly, the outdoor levels of all of the molds were often much higher, 3-6 fold higher than the levels indoors. It was a humid day, but it still seems odd for me that an outdoor space could have higher levels than indoors.
On later reading about my specific mold spores and neurological symptoms, I noticed that the two most elevated groups of spores in my house, ascospores and basidiospores, are the same class as all of the funguses known to have colonized the nervous system of ALS patients according to this published article. Those specific types of fungus found in the nerves of ALS patients are Candida, Malassezia, Fusarium, Botrytis, Trichoderma, and Cryptococcus. It naturally led me to wonder if my chronic als-type neurological symptoms could be caused by some latent fungal infection in my body that gradually improves when I'm away from the home.
Wrapping up this thread, I have a bunch of questions.

• Does anyone have the same kinds of molds (see below) in their home and have the ability to speak to how problematic my levels are from their own experience?
• Why would the outdoor control be so high? I do compost and garden, but all of the compost is buried underground.
• Is my specific blend of mold types implicated in neurological symptoms?
• Do my symptoms seem similar to mold-related symptoms that you might have had? I'm trying to figure out if mold is a likely culprit or if I should keep seeking help for possible tickborne illness or other issues.
• Should my mold levels be a cause to stay away from this house as much as possible? Should I ever return?
• Do I need to throw away all my belongings like books clothes and sheets?
• Would a very high quality HEPA air purifier make any difference?
• Is there some kind of public health representative that could help me navigate this or a type of mold doctor who could help me investigate the causes of my symptoms and seek the right kinds of medication?
• Do you have any other advice for someone in my situation?

My mold inspection results

Anyone want to give me advice on identifying basically a capsule wardrobe for this 39 year old suburban mom in middle America? Just stuff I could wear to casual family dinners, my young kids’ preschool events, to the park on the weekend, etc. I’m not going to worry about work clothes yet, as I typically wear jeans and my company’s logo shirts.
I have not paid attention to fashion at all in the last 5-7 years while I was busy having kids. Now I’d like to make a small wardrobe update by I’m having trouble sorting through the infinite content online to come up with a shopping list. Especially because I don’t know myself of what is currently stylish but not too short-term-trendy, and I frankly don’t have the time or interest to spend a lot of time learning about it. I already tried to search the sub and the posts listed in the sidebar.
Here’s the super rough list I’ve made so far, but I don’t know what I’m doing and could use input on whether this list needs to be adjusted and links to actual examples:

• 1 pair black leggings because mine are all worn out, surely there’s still a place for basic leggings in mom fashion?
• 1 pair black flared leggings - should these be more like bootcut or bell bottoms?
• Do I need to try joggers?
• 1 pair jeans with some level of flare - should these be more like bootcut or bell bottoms? I can wear these full length, right? Not pooled, but near to the floor?
• 1 pair of jeans that are either a loose boyfriend or wide leg cut, I’m not sure… I’m thinking slightly cropped if boyfriend style or full length but certainly not pooled if wide leg?
• About 4 casual shirts - I’m really not sure what would make a shirt look current. I’m not going to show my midriff, it’s the area I’m most self conscious about. I have a large, low slung bust so I’ve always worn v-neck tshirts with longer hems but they seem dated now.
• Some sort of sweater or jacket to layer on cool evenings, but what style? As I gather, all my current cardigans are probably quite outdated.
• Some non-athletic chunky white sneakers - I have sweaty feet so needs to be super breathable
• Maybe a sturdy, functional sandal that I can chase my toddler in if needed but looks better than my old Chacos?
• Some sort of shorts, but I don’t know what style? Or 1-2 new tennis skirts? It will be very hot here in the summer so I need stuff like this, but I’m not sure what looks current, or how to style with the current tops and the fact that I’m holding weight in my stomach.
• (I’m still working on weaning my 2 year old so I’m not interested in dresses for this summer.)

About me: 5’7”, something like 36F bust, carrying some extra post-baby weight in my stomach and lower back, probably about 165 lbs. I do not have a particular conscious style, so I guess probably “basic suburban mom.” In the past I’ve mixed in some clothes that were traditional preppy or outdoors oriented. I need clothes that are comfortable and that I can wear while moving with my kids. I’ve never liked tucking shirts in and think it’s usually not flattering for me, but if that’s required in the current style I could try it… I don’t want super low-quality fast fashion and want to be able to use stuff for awhile, but also am somewhat price conscious. Everything needs to be machine washable, but I hang dry most of my clothes.

Hi, I'm long time lurker, but this is first time I decided to write a post. This post is inspired by another thread, the one about whether bloomers are necessary. I don't know any other lolitas in real life, so I don't have anyone else to ask, but I can't stop thinking about why people are insisting that wearing something under skirt/dress is so important. Like seriously, why? It absolutely isn't a mean spirited question, I'm just curious. I understand wearing extra layers of coverage if someone is tall and dresses are just shorter than usually or sometimes with a tricky hoop skirt, but I can't understand why someone short, wearing longer dresses, or wearing regular petticoats would need extra underwear. For extra context as a everyday clothes I'm wearing only dresses and skirts, often with petticoats and I never had any issues, but I'm also pretty short. My lolita dresses are mostly A-line or with a empire/high waist, so maybe other styles are more likely to cause incidents of public indecency? I apologise if my post is exceptionally stupid and caused a headache in anyone.

I wasn't planning on watching Thrice Upon A Time. I had not liked the previous films and they seemed like a very inferior product compared to the original anime. However, the good reviews and opinions I saw about it encouraged me to do so. I did it with as open and tolerant a mind as possible, knowing that there was a good chance I wouldn't like the film. "What's the worst that could happen? That I don't like it and continue to prefer the original series? At least I'll be entertained for two and a half hours," I thought. What I did not expect at all is the deep feeling of disgust and repulsion that this film provoked in me, in a way that no other film has provoked in years.
I hated the movie from start to finish. I could spend hours talking about the boring action sequences, about its ugly, excessive CGI that ruins the already ugly mecha, about its disgusting hypersexualization of fucking 14-year-old girls, about how Misato's plans don't make sense, about how Last Kiss almost made me tear my ears off, or its plot full of Deus Ex Machinas with concepts conveniently taken by Hideaki Anno from the place that his last name suggests; but the real reason I'm writing this is because I feel like these movies spit on everything the excellent original work represents.
Not only because as adaptations they fail miserably, but also because they retroactively damage the original work (we'll talk about that later).
Before I begin to explain why the rebuilds are bad adaptations, I want to warn that I am going to do a relatively exhaustive review of the 4 films, so this rant is going to be very long, like staying up late on a winter night with chronic insomnia. That said, let's start to see the reasons:
WHAT IS NEON GENESIS EVANGELION?:
To understand why rebuilds fail as remakes, I must first ask you, dear reader: What does Neon Genesis Evangelion mean to you? (it should at least be familiar to you, unless you've spent your life under a bridge) What do you think about when you read that title, apart from Shinji fucking in front of a comatose Asuka? What comes to mind when you hear the most famous opening in anime history, apart from Shinji strangling the otter against Happy Thursday's throat? (in more ways than one). If your answer is: "It's a mecha anime for emos with a coomer protagonist", that's fine, I respect that; but please press the red "X" in the top right corner of your screen, you can now leave.
Now, I'm going to get serious and explain my definition: Evangelion is a work about the hedgehog's dilemma and the difficulties of forming emotional bonds that human beings have, as well as the consequences of trying to separate from them for fear of rejection. It is not a story about heroes. It's not a story about saving the world. In Evangelion there are neither heroes nor villains, but rather a group of emotionally broken characters trying to be happy in a world just as broken as them. The real enemy of Evangelion is not the angels. It is the lack of communication and empathy.
https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dilema_del_erizo
It is that same lack of communication and empathy that progressively causes everything to go to hell to conclude with a cathartic and bleak ending, but consistent with the themes of the work. It is therefore an existentialist work about human relationships disguised as a mecha anime. This, added to a unique visual style, daring direction, and mechas like never before seen on television, made Evangelion one of the most influential anime in all of history, as well as a true commercial success for Gainax Studio. Success that encouraged other studios to carry out projects such as Cowboy Bebop or Serial Experiment Lain, taking anime towards a new golden age.
Even today you can hear the echoes of that Third Impact of End of Evangelion in 1997. The list of works influenced by Evangelion both inside and outside of Japan is endless. Of course, it is not a perfect work, nor extensive in errors: its target audience is ambiguous, many of the biblical references are more for decoration than anything else, and several aspects of the ending(s) could have been explained better. However, many of these errors can be attributed to a lack of time and budget during the production of the original anime (which was quite chaotic and improvised); therefore, they are understandable and forgivable.
In summary, we can conclude that Evangelion is a dark, introspective, provocative and unique work (at least at its time). This is also combined with a unique visual identity and complex characters whose relationships intertwine and interconnect throughout the work. The sum of all these factors is what led Evangelion to be such a critically acclaimed work that it transcended its own genre and became an icon of popular culture. And this in turn constitutes the biggest mistake of rebuilds; because they commit the biggest sin that an adaptation can commit: denying everything that made the original work great.
ADAPTING WITHOUT A CLEAR PURPOSE:
One of the biggest problems with these remakes (as well as a clear example of what I'm saying) is their total narrative inconsistency. Let me explain: the first rebuilds movie (1.11) is a literal copy-paste of the first 6 chapters of the original anime, with practically the same scenes, dialogues and even music. This makes the film completely redundant and unnecessary (and makes one wonder why it exists); But in any case, the message is being conveyed that the purpose of these remakes is to adapt the original series as faithfully as possible to the cinema with a current animation style.
However, the second movie (2.22) is a... something. A pastiche of new and old things where the plot broadly follows that of the original anime, but with many things changed (of course, for the worse) and a different ending. All this compressing no less than 14 chapters of the original anime into two and a half hours. Here the message that one can infer is that it seeks to adapt the original story (very briefly) by changing and rearranging certain elements, now more in line with what an adaptation is.
However, then we get to 3.33 and... well, after a 14-year because reasons timeskip, we're now in a post-post-apocalyptic world (repetition intended) where ex-Nerv members fight against Nerv itself. Nerv in giant spaceships, there are mechas everywhere, Misato is a sociopath, and Shinji and Asuka still look exactly the same because "DAMN JEBA." Here we can infer that what is sought is to create a totally new story and take it in different directions than the original. The following movie (3.0+1.01) is the only one that is consistent with this purpose.
Whether all these narrative pirouettes were planned in advance or not (clearly not), we can see that there is a clear incongruity between what is intended to be done and what is finally done. All of this generates a strong narrative chaos where the elements and themes of the original anime are mixed with the new ones, creating a total inconsistency. Since also in 3.0+1.01 it is revealed (unfortunately to me) that everything is part of the same universe and this is not really a remake, the excuse of "they are different universes, they don't have to be the same" doesn't work either.
In fact, one thing that you will see me comment a lot throughout this article is the lack of narrative consistency of these remakes, especially in comparison to the original work.
A HEDGEHOG WITHOUT TICKS:
No character in Evangelion better embodies the central theme of the work than Shinji Ikari, its own protagonist. Shinji is not a hero: he is not brave. He is not a genius. He is not charismatic. He is not selfless. He doesn't want to save the world. His reason for piloting the Eva is to gain recognition and appreciation from others; especially from his father, whom he hates, but at the same time admires; He feels that she despises him, but he also wants (and needs) that she loves him. Shinji spends the entire series in the dilemma between escaping from what hurts him (classic avoidance behavior) or accepting it and moving on, even at the risk of being hurt again.
This theme is rock solid throughout the entire original series: from the first to the last chapter of the anime, and from minute one to the very end of End of Evangelion. Even the opening itself makes several visual references to Shinji's hedgehog dilemma. This can make Shinji an infuriating character for audiences accustomed to typical anime protagonists; but it's those same things that make Shinji such a unique and special character. He deconstructs and subverts the hero's journey. And it's not as if this hinders the plot: Shinji is not proactive, but he also does not spend the series crying, as many often claim.
https://files.catbox.moe/eolho0.mp4
https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monomito
And as you may already be imagining, the Shinji of the rebuilds does not have a hedgehog's dilemma. Or rather, he has it, but only during the first movie (copy-paste of the original anime) and part of the second. This is a problem, because it creates a strong narrative inconsistency (again) where it seems that two Shinjis exist at the same time or that this one is bipolar. As of 3.33, Shinji's entire character arc is based on trying to redeem himself for his past mistakes first by unleashing "Almost Third Impact" (what a stupid name) and subsequently preventing Kaworu's death while trying to right said mistake.
Is this a bad thing? Not necessarily. The problem is that I have already seen the arc of the hero who fails to eventually rise up and succeed in 100 trillion works, while the hedgehog's dilemma in none more than in Evangelion (at least in my case). Which makes Shinji a much less interesting character. Some might argue that in 3.0 + 1.01 Shinji does have such a dilemma because he spends half the movie crawling on the ground; but there is not a hedgehog's dilemma, but rather depression for having seen Kaworu's head go KAWOOM (I know, the joke was very bad, but if he didn't do it, I would explode too).
End of Evangelion's Shinji did have such a dilemma because the reason for his depression was having been manipulated and used by someone he had previously opened up to and then forced to kill him, not for failing in his mission (in fact, he was very efficient in her mission to separate Kaworu's head from her body), which in turn brings sexual (and later, deadly) results for Asuka. I insist: narrative consistency. But this is not the worst: the worst thing is that at certain moments in these films, Shinji becomes the typical shonen savior hero, betraying the central point of his character in the original series.
https://youtu.be/E-x-f2OrWeA
A perfect example of this is the ending of 2.22, where the fight in chapter 19 (COINCENTLY from where the original anime starts to get more introspective) is transformed into a ridiculous shipping attempt, with Rei turned into a damsel in distress and Shinji into a savior hero while spouting all the typical cliché lines, topped off with a disgustingly cheesy ending. But of course, how could it end otherwise? With Shinji's Eva practicing cannibalism on Zeruel's corpse (the original scene)? Too disturbing for current times. Shinji and Rei fighting as a team to defeat him? Yes of course. Rei has enough not being in the kitchen. Besides, Asuka already takes care of that, hoping to receive her alpha male's cock as a reward.
https://youtu.be/TPS0Uk0TkP0
Because, like any good modern anime protagonist, Shinji now has a harem.
FETISHING WITHOUT CONTROL:
Of all the characters who are now part of Shinji's harem, the one who is most harmed by this is Rei (Asuka's case is different, and the other character is an infernal creation from Anno's sick mind). Not only because acting like a bitch in heat goes totally against her personality and because of the murky situation, considering that she is a clone of Shinji's mother, but also because her character is reduced to a mere fetish object that does things cute to produce tenderness in the viewer and make coomers buy their figurines.
Rei is an interesting character because he raises numerous existential questions based on the ship of Theseus paradox: the concept of identity, to what extent we can consider ourselves still ourselves, the construction and definition of a "self", etc. But here, her screen time piloting her Unit 00 is minimal (COINCENTLY most of it in 1.11) and her exploits are practically irrelevant or non-existent, also being reduced to a mere damsel in distress at the end of 2.22, as I said before.
https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paradoja_de_Teseo
In 3.0+1.01 he doesn't even get to pilot an Eva. Her role in the film is to cause pity and produce tenderness with her total ignorance (I see that the idiot Anno forgot that all the Reis are born with basic knowledge) while she is seen with different hairstyles, different outfits, working as a farmer, taking care of a baby, etc. In short, a fetish object where she wants the public to value her for how "moe" she is instead of for her abilities or as a character. In Anno's mind, feminism advances in reverse. Ironic, considering that it was precisely Rei who unintentionally started the moe culture.
Of course, it goes without saying that Rei is not the only one who suffers from this extreme fetishization of her character in these films. Under the excuse of paying homage to End of Evangelion, Asuka now always wears an eye patch (needless to say it has nothing to do with having been injured there), a cap with cat ears, in addition to having a very convenient trend for the coomer public of walking naked and semi-naked through other people's houses. She sometimes puts on the plugsuit, but near the end of the movie, it is conveniently torn off, lest we forget that this is made by the Japanese.
One of the best examples of how this hareminication has destroyed the main female characters is in the elevator scene. In the original anime, Rei tries to advise Asuka in a time of particular vulnerability and depression. Rei's limited social skills, coupled with Asuka being Asuka, cause her to misinterpret the attempt to help as mockery and an act of condescension, triggering a slap from her towards Rei and a worsening of her already strained relationship and Asuka's mental state. Rei doesn't fight back because she knows that doing so would only make things even worse.
It is an excellent dramatic scene because it once again brings to the foreground the hedgehog's dilemma and the difficulties between human relationships, very much in line with what Evangelion is. In 2.22, this scene is gratuitously introduced and turned into two horny bitches fighting over which of the two will let their alpha male penetrate first, with a highly OC Rei stopping the assault attempt in a 100% gangsta way to make her see more "cool." The scene doesn't even make plot sense, because Asuka at that moment is not even depressed, and in the original anime this occurs at a much later time under a very different context.
and speaking of asuka...
SOMEONE CALLED ASUKA:
When I started watching these movies, I was afraid that Asuka's character had undergone modifications to make her more "palatable" to new audiences. What took me completely by surprise was how radically different this Asuka is from the original. So different that they can't even be considered the same character. To show it very clearly, we are going to review the personality of both:
Asuka from the original anime: An energetic and outgoing half-German, half-Japanese girl (actually it's 1/4, but who cares) who loves to be the center of attention and have everyone praise her due to the lack of parental love received during her childhood having been abandoned by her father and supplanted by her mother, who suffered from severe mental disorders. She is extremely proud and competitive because she feels that being Eva's pilot is the only thing that gives her an identity and purpose, which makes her tend to become quickly frustrated when things don't go her way and become defensive when she feels like she is being outmaneuvered. . He loves to make fun of others (especially Shinji), to the point of being cruel at times, but he does not do it out of malice, but rather to compensate for his enormous inferiority complex due to the rejection suffered by his mother and having witnessed her. committed suicide (and possibly even tried to kill her) the day she was chosen as Eva's pilot and came running to wish her a Happy Thursday. She admires Kaji and wants to fuck him because she hates her own adolescence, she needs to feel adult and independent due to suffering from a certain Electra complex for having lacked a true father figure during her childhood. She has a sweet and vulnerable nature, but she rarely expresses it to anyone except her best friend Hikari and I better stop this now because too much text.
Rebuild Asuka (hereinafter "Asuka"): A girl soldier created by Nerv as part of a series of clones who has always been alone and thinks she doesn't need anyone, although she secretly wishes to have a family. She hits and insults others for no reason, she yells a lot, never smiles or makes jokes, and hates socializing with others, which doesn't stop her from looking for Shinji's dick within 2 days of meeting him. She always plays video games while someone is talking to her and at night she talks to herself with a doll like an autistic person.
As we can see, these two characters not only look nothing alike: several of their traits directly contradict each other. Because they look alike, they are not even alike in aesthetics: the original Asuka had red hair and dressed in the traditional feminine way, while "Asuka" is light brown and dresses in a tomboy style (which I'm not saying is wrong, I'm just commenting to show the radical difference). It's not that they have changed Asuka: it's that they have directly murdered her to supplant her by someone with whom she only shares her first name (not even her last name). And needless to say, the change has been VERY for the worse.
To describe the first character, I had to spend 15 damn lines, and even then I had to leave out many important facets of his personality, his development in the original series and his entire character arc in EoE, because if I didn't have one endless bible For the second, 6 lines were enough for me, and I could have had more left over if I had been more concise. The first character is a complex and three-dimensional character, with multiple facets, edges and layers. She feels like a real person. The second character is a generic tsundere that you can find in any mecha anime of the week. She is not even comparable to the first; She's not even a good character.
We cannot speak of Flanderization because not even the most basic traits of the character have been respected. Nor can we speak of a deconstruction because that same absence of basic traits means that there is no character construction on which to stand in the first place. Obviously, this change greatly resents the interactions between characters: the original Asuka was a charismatic and fun character with the ability to drive the plot on her own (as soon as she appears in chapter 8 of the original anime she is already changing the entire dynamic between characters) , while "Asuka" is mostly only in the background or to fight; He doesn't even have a character arc as such. In fact, in 2.22 he has even less screen time than several supporting characters.
His chemistry with Shinji is also non-existent (and I'm not just referring to the romantic level) and they barely have any development together. They like each other here because... ehhhh... she likes how he cooks and he thinks she's hot? It's not that the AsuShinji (or ShinSuka, or whatever the hell it's called) here is forced: it's just that it doesn't even make sense. The only reason people still ship them together is because they did it in the 90s. Yūko Miyamura's performance also feels very lackadaisical and lacks passion, which is quite unlike her. Although perhaps this is intentional, since her character always talks as if she has the spear of Longinus permanently stuck up her rectum. In fact, the few times she says her iconic "Anta baka?" This one feels very forced, in addition to not having her characteristic high-pitched tone.
In short, the character has suffered the same fetishization as Rei (gamer girl, tomboy, one-eyed, etc.), but also with the aggravating factor that not even her basic characteristics have been respected here. This is especially disconcerting when we take into account that the rest of the characters have their original personalities more or less intact (albeit simplified). Even more disconcerting if we take into account that Asuka is possibly the most popular character in all of Evangelion, and even more so if we consider that she is Anno's favorite character (in fact, the initial idea was for Asuka to be the protagonist).
https://evaresources.wordpress.com/der-mond/
Given this, the inevitable question arises: "Why?" What was the point of turning Asuka into an inferior and tsundere copy of Rei, even more so when there are already three clones? It has always been rumored that Asuka is not popular in Japan, but that is completely false. The only semi-rational explanation I can think of is that they did it to please the haters. It's no secret that a portion within the Evangelion fandom (and outside of it) hates Asuka with a passion. They see her as someone toxic and cruel who dedicates herself to screwing others for no reason, without understanding that you don't have to like a well-written character.
https://imgur.com/a/KznXE1x
What these people fail to understand is that Asuka's verbal abuse is a defense mechanism to avoid opening up to others, since Asuka constantly says things that do not fit with what she really feels or thinks (clear proof is chapter 16 from the original series). It's not like it matters much, considering they were never more than an extremely vocal minority. That the character is so popular is proof of this. The great irony of all this is that the new "Asuka" is a much more unpleasant and detestable character than the original, since she lacks the redeemable qualities of the original and her moments of comic relief.
And if until now I have been more or less benevolent with this remake, this is something I cannot forgive: because changing a character just because a group of people doesn't like it is one of the most cowardly and pathetic acts in the world. that a writer can fall. The fact that this was also at the expense of one of the best female characters in the history of anime and with a wonderful story arc makes it even more bloody. Any other halfway competent writer would have responded with this.
https://youtu.be/5Js0ea6yPKM
...although if we go by Ockham's razor, the most likely explanation is simply that Hideaki Anno is mentally retarded.
A CHARACTER TO DESTROY A FRANCHISE AND BIND IT TO DARKNESS:
Mari Makinami Illustrious A.K.A María Iskariote (what an appropriate last name) is one of the worst creations ever made by humans. Not since the atomic bombs has humanity created something so horrible. Worse than the holocaust. Worse than fascism. Worse than Facebook memes. Worse than stepping on a lego. I would even dare to say that it is worse than pizza with pineapple. No character better reflects Anno's mental decline or better embodies all the problems of the current anime industry than this trash.
This character contributes absolutely nothing to the plot, he does not contribute at any time to its advancement, he lacks his own development or story, he does absolutely nothing relevant in the 3 films in which he appears, and he does not even have a defined personality. So much so, that all of her scenes could be eliminated or replaced by any other character and she would barely affect the plot, or not affect it at all.
The character is so frighteningly one-dimensional that she doesn't even show different emotions or moods during the three films in which she appears, always being perpetually happy and carefree even in tense situations for literally no reason. This leads to moments as surreal as her starting to sing and hum in scenes that are intended to be serious or dramatic (or so I think; perhaps what they wanted was to turn this into an unintentional comedy), again generating a gigantic narrative dissonance. The last third of 3.33 is the best example of this.
But that's not the worst: this character is clearly made for otaku coomers to masturbate to. She has almost every fetish possible: glasses/lenses (whatever they call it in your country), pigtails, miniskirt, schoolgirl, saying "nya", big tits, obsession with smell and tight outfits, etc. To make matters worse in 3.0 + 1.01 we discover that she is 48 years old, so we can also add the milf fetish. Evidently, her tits always bounce in her plugsuit (she would swear that never happened in the original series) and there are many close-ups of her ass. In addition to constantly making sexual advances towards Shinji, which also turns this piece of shit into a potential pedophile.
If the thing simply ended there, we could say that this character remains a mere annoying and unnecessary secondary character. Unfortunately, the character is also disruptive to the plot, occupying long filler scenes that do nothing more than waste time that is already scarce in a film, and that could have been used on something else more interesting; like Pen Pen watching TV, Pen Pen eating a sardine, etc. Without going any further, both 2.22, 3.33 and 3.0+1.01 begin with a long filler scene of her hitting on her. Well, to be honest, the 3.33 one is more Asuka, but this abortion is still out there fucking and singing.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that discussing why this character exists is much more interesting than any other debate that can be created about these films. I still think about it. However, the ending of 3.0+1.01 gives a good clue: the character was created solely and exclusively to stay with Shinji. I can only imagine that Anno made this tired of the fandom shipping and the arguments over who Shinji should stay with, so he decided to end the matter by creating his own ideal waifu with all the fetishes he likes in a woman to end it. with this. It's disgusting, but considering we're talking about a Japanese, totally possible.
It's surreal coming from the man who harshly criticized the use of anime as escapism and the excessive female objectification and sexualization in it, but it's the only semi-decent explanation I can think of. Basically, he is what is called a mascot character in literature. That would explain why this character never shows doubts, nor any kind of internal conflict, or why he is a better Eva pilot than Asuka and Rei themselves. It is also very revealing about the quality of the Rebuilds: creating a self-insert OC just to be the partner of the protagonist or another main character is the quintessential trait of all bad fanfiction.
However, among all this tsunami of disqualifications, I also have to say something positive: spending three movies giving hope to the shippers only to have Shinji be cuckolded simultaneously by Rei and Asuka in the last one and end up with a character with which had zero development (before 3.0+1.01 I didn't even know its name) is a true trolling masterclass, worthy of the best of ball pumpers. Only a true emperor of evil would have come up with such a twisted and at the same time perfect way to screw over a large part of the fandom. I give you my tens, Anno.
THE ANTI-UNIVERSE OF ANTI-NARRATIVE:
Of all the new concepts that Anno brings up at the last minute from the place named after his last name, none stands out more than the "anti-universe." Or, as I like to call it, the "anti-good writing." Basically because it perfectly represents all the problems of the rebuilds and their script. In the final stretch of 3.0+1.01 we have the last-minute revelation of a quantum plane of existence capable of turning imagined worlds into reality and changing this through Lilith, which cannot be understood by the human mind (wow, WHAT CONVENIENT!) and whose existence has never been mentioned or even hinted at in the entire franchise until CONCIDENTLY the aforementioned last third of the film.
In other words, a gigantic Deus Ex Machina created in an improvised way to avoid repeating End of Evangelion and forcing a happy ending where Shinji creates an ideal universe for each character (although that is questionable, as we will see later). And it is far from being the only one: the spear of Cassius, the Eva of Infinity, the key of Nebuchadnezzar, the Book of Life, and so on. None of these concepts are integrated into the plot in an organic and natural way, but rather they arise spontaneously at its convenience when it needs it. Except for the new "Super Berserker Mode" of the Evas, which is simply a power-up to sell figurines.
As I said before, if at least this were an alternate universe separate from the original anime, all this bombardment of concepts pulled out of the ass would be a little better justified. But the revelation that everything is a cycle and we are in the same universe as the original work only makes it even worse, generating countless inconsistencies about why they never mentioned this or never used that (what's the point of the seeds of life If you can create universes simply by imagining them?). Although without a doubt, the worst of all these new concepts is "the curse of Eve."
Here we have a new concept with very strong repercussions completely launched, which is not even an explanation in itself, it does not answer anything and to make matters worse, the same films contradict each other several times. Needless to say, this is a cheap excuse for the three main characters not to grow up and continue sexualizing 14-year-old girls after the most gratuitous timeskip ever seen. And speaking of timeskip, putting such a long one in the middle of the story is a first-time writing error. If you are writers, never do that: the bigger the time jump, the more things you will be forced to explain, since the less you do it, the more plot holes will form as a result.
And of course, here it explains little to nothing of what happened these 14 years. Like where Nerv got such a tremendous base from, if in 3.33 it seemed that together with Rei and Kaworu it was made up of four people. Or how they have gotten such an army of pseudo-Evas, especially when these are supposed to be extremely expensive (wow, and SEELE with all her unlimited resources was barely 9 in EoE). Or worse yet, how Kaji managed to stop Almost Third Impact (seriously, the name couldn't be stupider). None of these questions are answered at any time. Obviously because they can't do it.
Evangelion has always been characterized by leaving things up to the public's interpretation, but here I feel that they are vilely taking advantage of it so as not to have to give any kind of explanations. And in the case at hand, do not even pay attention to contradictions. Like Touji and Kensuke got on Unit 01 and that doesn't stop them from being 28 after the timeskip. Or that Mari appears to be 14 despite looking like an adult in Gendo's photos and flashbacks, plus the fact that Evas, by simple logic, could not exist back then.
The height of absurdity is when near the end of 3.0+1.01 the "unexpected" revelation occurs (actually we all saw it coming) that everything is a cycle and we are facing a reboot of the original timeline, of which only Kaworu seems to be conscious. He let them guess without giving them any clues how many times Kaworu mentioned or even hinted at such a thing in the original series. Needless to say, nothing is ever explained about it: Who created that cycle? (Adam? Lilith? The First Ancestral Race? Hideaki Anno's last name?) For what purpose? How does it work? How long does it last? Why is Kaworu the only one who remembers him? Do these remakes make sense?
THE DEATH OF A STYLE:
Fortress-cities folding in on themselves. Designs and constructions oscillating between the nineties, the utopian and the cyberpunk. Meshes of flesh and blood animated with the souls of the dead fighting with classical music in the background. A mysterious and ambiguous lore where aliens, technology and conspiracies mix with gnostic, cabalistic elements and the most esoteric aspects of Christianity (did the History Channel predict Evangelion?). Minimalist posters moving quickly between frames. Monochrome backgrounds flashing aggressively (bad luck if you were epileptic). So consistent with its themes that the A.T. fields themselves. They were an allegory of the hedgehog's dilemma (I'm not making this up, Kaworu himself says it in chapter 23).
https://imgur.com/a/2M0eDVK
The sum of all these factors is what allowed Evangelion to build an absolutely unique identity, the one that allowed people to say "hey, that's an Eva!". Starting in 3.33, all that is lost to disappear in 3.0+1.01 in favor of giant spaceships, mechanical mechas made of pure CGI, battles full of colored lights, multiverses and time loops. I'm not saying these elements are bad in and of themselves, but I've already seen a thousand mecha stories with these. For that, I start watching any of the versions of Gundam or Macross. I could also complain about the boring shots without audiovisual language and always using the same color palette, but to be fair, that is an endemic evil of current anime.
And like any bad remake, 3.0+1.01 can't help but pay homage to several scenes from the original work, completely failing to understand the point of said scenes. As an example, we have Ritsuko shooting Gendo for no reason other than to pay homage to End of Evangelion, ignoring that the context between both scenes is very different. Furthermore, here they never explain the relationship that exists between the two, so the scene makes no sense; especially for those who never saw the original series, who will also find mentions of facts that these films have never shown or bothered to explain.
Even worse is when they try to pay homage to the iconic battle between Asuka and the Eva Series. Not only because of the total absence of the graphic violence and choreography of the original, but because what makes that fight so remembered is its emotional component, since it is preceded by a narrative catharsis in which Asuka discovers that the Her mother's soul was always in Unit 02, in addition to being marked by the constant tension of knowing if she will be able to finish the fight before the Eva's energy supply runs out. Here the Evas never run out of energy (why do they need the power supply, then?), so there is no such tension.
In the original fight Asuka may not be shooting 1387945 Evas with a super cannon larger than her as she falls through an... interdimensional hole?; But there you feel every blow, you can appreciate every movement in detail, and the dramatic tension in crescendo only improves the result. If this were a shonen, the logical thing is that Asuka would win. After all, her character arc has been wrapped up in a climactic way. Unfortunately, this is Evangelion. When the Evas Series manage to cause a mortal wound with the pseudo-spear of Longinus and the energy counter reads zero, the outcome is already decided. What happens next is horrific (Asuka's enemies are cruel to her even after she is dead), and just as horrifying are Yūko Miyamura's screams and Miki Nagasawa's performance as Maya announcing that Asuka is dead. In the Rebuilds there are no performances anywhere near that level.
End of Evangelion will be as dark and uncomfortable to watch as you want, but it is a film where all those responsible put their souls into achieving the best possible result, both on a technical and artistic level.
and well, I think that for today I have already downloaded too much, an apology for the large amount of text, I will make a second part at another time because I have so many things to comment on... anyway, I hope you have a good day/afternoon/night or when you read this .

I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home we pass, a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. It reminds us that we are still living. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all.
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same abandoned house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and look up to see the front door of the house swing wide. Light pours out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries. The one who has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there, standing in touching distance from her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always left me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years since the last time I've seen her. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I begin to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three was the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more surprising, I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
A writhing anger fills me at this thought. I don't want to think of that day. The day the sun stopped shining. The day my life was uprooted and tossed carelessly in the trash. I try my best to tune that cursed melody out of my mind, but it fights me tooth and nail at every turn. It refuses to depart like a troublesome guest unwilling to take a hint. Even still, I find my feet moving towards the sound.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I know on the other side of the door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. A feeling of unease bubbles to the surface, bringing with it a queasy gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I feel my lunch begin to squirm its way back up, burning my throat and causing a tingling sensation deep in my nasal cavity.
I know all my efforts are fruitless. The memories will come back. The dam I built to hold them at bay has already begun to crack. It will crumble soon. I know enough to know that I don't want to know, yet the details of that day are fuzzy. With each step closer to the door they come into focus. And as my hand reaches for the gilded doorknob, all goes black.
I’m back.
Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide, and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. I take it all in. My brain makes the connections. Rage, white-hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hanging on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes, but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch as his brain matter leaks out to the floor.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart, and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she says, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?
johnwestrick.com

Hello everyone, I hope you are doing well!
Recently I commented under a post about tips and tricks to improve physical appearance and it seems that a few people liked my advice, so I figured I could transform that one comment into a whole post so more people can have access to it.
I am a 26 year old Southern European girly, I have learned a few things here and there that I would I like to share with you. This is by no means a step by step guide, but rather a helping hand that can provide some support or advice. This is for everyone, younger girls and older girls, from everywhere and all walks of life. Take from this post what works for you, and leave the rest.
Small disclaimer, these are tips and tricks that have personally worked for me. I don't believe there is one way to look or feel good, rather this is more for girlies who feel a bit lost style wise and need some minor guidance. My focus is more on healthy rather than pretty, since I do believe that if you feel good on the inside, you will also feel good on the outside.
Enjoy, and please do let me know if you need any more specific advice/tips, I am happy to help!
***

Face

• Skin: Keep it simple, keep it consistent, keep it adapted to your skin needs. Consult with a dermatologist or just do your own research at home (that's what I did!). It took me a while to figure out the products that work for me and the routine. I won't recommend any specific products because each product works very differently. What works for me might not work for you even if we have the same skin type/concerns. My main issues are the occasional spot, big pores and dull skin.
  
  • Night Time: I do a double cleanse at night (oil followed by water cleanser), use retinol, and moisturiser. Vaseline is a game changer if you have any dry or irritations spots on your face. My under eye area is very sensitive and irritates easily with products, and Vaseline is the only thing that works. Also apply Vaseline on your lips before bedtime, you will have the softest lips when you wake up.
  • Morning Time: I don't cleanse my face in the morning because otherwise it would get very dry. I wash with cold water, then Vitamin C serum, moisturizer (I love the Roche Posay Cicaplast Baume), and a generous amount of SPF.
  • One thing I recommend a lot, is that if a product works well on your skin, you should stop using it after a few months to make sure your face doesn't get used to it and decreases its efficiency. I rotate between 2-3 products, and switch them whenever I finish a product.
• Teeth: Brush twice a day and floss daily. Trust me on this. Flossing is a game changer to make your teeth healthier and whiter. I won't recommend any whitening products because I don't use them as my teeth are very sensitive. But if possible try to schedule an appointment with an hygienist once a year to get your teeth cleaned and remove any buildup. This is super important. And remember that healthy teeth >>> white teeth.
  
• Eyes/Eyebrow
  
  • If you want to add an extra step to your routine, I recommend getting a lashlift, it lasts around 8 weeks, looks very natural and elegant, and make your eyes pop. You have smaller eyes (like I do), I really recommend this. You can also ask to do a lash tint so your lashes appear even longer. When you do go to a salon do make sure that it has good reviews (ie hygiene), and also make sure that they test all the products on your hand beforehand, so you don't have an allergic reaction in your eyes.
  • Getting your eyebrows done is definitely a game changer. I don't do any permanent or semi permanent treatments, other than getting my brows professionally plucked.
• Makeup: I like simple makeup (with the main reason being that I don't know how to do more complicated makeup). The good thing about simple makeup is that everyone looks good with it, and really gives you a confidence boost. I use a skin tint (MAC has a nice one, and Maybelline too) that gives the skin a bit of a glow with some concealer under the eyes and to hide spots. I like adding bit of blush (Rare Beauty is quite nice), some mascara, a bit of eyebrow gel (from Benefit Cosmetics), and a clear lip oil (I really like the Clarins one).
  
  • If I am going out, I do the same routine but I make it more intense. For example, I use a darker blush on my cheeks (MAC Swiss Chocolate), a dark brown lip liner as lipstick with the lip oil, and I also use a bit of shimmer on my eyelids to make them pop (I have very dark brown eyes). I will also use a setting spray in between steps along with setting powder to make it last longer.

Body

• Regarding getting fit, there is no easy way out. It will take months of consistently working out and following specific food regimens. If you can, I would advise getting a personal trainenutritionist to at least get you started on a meal and exercise plan. Having a healthy, and strong body will make you feel so confident and good.
• I would recommend getting a blood test to check on your vitals and make sure you don't have any deficiencies (regarding vitamins or hormones). Taking supplements can really boost your energy and improve your health. Magnesium with Vitamin D is great and has a lot of benefits, but please check with a doctor first.
• Some things help a lot with body confidence like getting your nails done (hands and feet!). Trust me. Get a simple semi permanent gel polish in milky white on both your hands and feet, it looks super natural, lasts for weeks, and makes your hands and feet look amazing and fresh.
• Body care: I recommend using a body brush when you shower, it will make your skin feel really smooth, and you suffer from body acne it will help. Tip: don't keep in the shower and clean your brush regularly, so bacteria doesn't accumulate, and cause issues. After the shower, I like using the Ordinary Glycolic Acid toner on my body, followed by a body oil (I recommend Bio Oil). It makes my skin look amazing, soft and minimises stretch marks, scars and hyperpigmentation. When I go out, I like using Nuxe Or to make things a bit more extra. I like being shiny. I also like using a body moisturiser on my elbows, feet, knees where the skin can get a bit more dry.
• For hair removal, I get laser done since it's quite cheap where I'm from. We Southern Europeans are very very very hairy. It honestly has been a game changer. I know it's not available to a lot of people but it's something that does work really well, specially if you have fair skin and dark hair.

Hair

• I have wavy hair, so this advice will not be useful to a lot of people. I thing hair with layers looks great, and I have my hair cut with long bangs and layers since I was 15 years old. I recently got a big chop, right above my shoulders and I am embracing my natural hair colour. I kept the layers and I think it makes easy to style and maintain.
• I recommend getting a haircut every 3 months, just the tips to keep it healthy. I also use Argan oil on my hair tips, and rosemary water on my scalp before I wash it. My washing routine is very standard otherwise with a shampoo that focused on scalp care. I do a hair mask once a week, and don't use any conditioner because it doesn't work for me at all.
• I don't use any heat except hairdryer. If I want to give it a bit of more volume I use a round brush and some curling rolls to style it and make my waves more... wavy I suppose.

Style

• Find clothes that fit you well, and more importantly that you feel confident in. You don't need to wait until you have your 'perfect' body. Get clothes that suit your body type, your complexion. There are some threads on Reddit that I think can help with that.
• I like going on Pinterest and look for outfit inspiration. I also follow a few instagram accounts that focus on creating different outfits, and they even link the items. I use this less to buy new things but more to see if I can use items I already own and style them differently.
• I am very much a basics girl, I think nothing looks better than a well fitting blouse/top with straight jeans and either sneakers/ankle boots. T-shirt/jeans combo is honestly a classic that looks good on everyone as long as the clothes fit well. I don't usually follow a lot of trends because they don't really work for me. I think it's important to keep basics in your closet that will always be in style. Think basic t-shirts, long and short sleeved (in white, black, grey), some form fitting, other loose. Get some straight jeans in different washes. You can create so many different outfits, and it works for both the day and night time. When I go out for drinks, I use a white tight t-shirt and some dark blue jeans with ankle boots. It's simple but it works! Trust me ;)
• Jewellery: I re-use the same jewellery every day. And if you want to start wearing more, try getting some good quality but affordable pieces that always look good and you can use during the day and night. Think some small silver hoops, or gold, maybe a small ear cuff, and a simple necklace. I like using rings on my index fingers, they are quite simple, but look elegant, specially with the milky white nails.

Hope this helps! I might add some edits here and there as I remember more things!

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Similarly, some people are sick or have a medical condition that necessitates the use of antibiotics. In such cases, the medications, combined with a weakened immune system, attack the gut bacteria. Killing probiotic bacteria causes poor digestion, bloating, stomach problems, eating disorders, and weight gain.
BioFit provides your body with enough probiotic bacteria to maintain a healthy digestive tract. This amazing formula will not only solve your gut issues, but it will also boost your fat-burning process.
To see such dramatic results, take one capsule daily with a glass of water after a meal. Each bottle contains 30 capsules, implying that the supply will last a month. If you want to see visible results, the manufacturers advise you to be consistent with your process and patient.
Some people saw visible results in 15 days, while others took much longer. Because each person is unique, we cannot predict when you will see results. However, if you are dissatisfied with the results, you can receive a full refund.

Biofit Ingredients(100% Natural)

Each serving of BioFit contains seven different probiotic bacterial strains. Probiotic bacteria, like other organisms, can be found in a variety of species and strains. Some strains have been linked to weight loss and improved immunity, while others have been linked to other aspects of gut function. The proportions of each strain included in BioFit vary. Individual strains have different dosages that are determined by the desired effects. The total dose is 16.58mg 5.75 billion CFUs. Because It is primarily marketed as a weight loss supplement, the Bio Fit manufacturers have placed a strong emphasis on strains that have been specifically linked to weight loss.

1. Bacillus Subtilis 8.89mg:

Bacillus subtilis strain DE111 is used in BioFit. Given its demonstrated ability to aid in weight loss, it stands to reason that this probiotic strain would constitute the majority of BioFit. Probiotic strains improve digestive health in addition to promoting weight loss. Some probiotic strains aid in weight loss by improving intestinal function, digestion, or waste product elimination. This probiotic strain is notable for its credibility and published medical data, which place it among the most effective probiotic strains for natural fat-burning and weight loss.

2. Bifidobacterium Longum 1.56mg:

It contains Bifidobacterium longum, one of 32 different Bifidobacteria species. The effects of B. longum on humans have been extensively studied. It’s one of the most important probiotic strains passed down from mothers to their infants via breast milk, and it appears to play an important role in early human development.

3. Lactobacillus Rhamnosus 1.25mg:

Lactobacillus rhamnosus, a beneficial probiotic strain, is included in BioFit. Lactobacillus strains are present in this supplement. The digestive tract benefits of L. rhamnosus are numerous. L. rhamnosus can be found in yoghurt and other foods.

4. Bifidobacterium Breve 0.63mg:

Numerous studies have linked Bifidobacterium breve to good gut health, which is why it is commonly found in digestive health supplements. Researchers discovered that this strain can aid in the digestion of a wide range of molecules, implying that it may aid digestion in more than one pathway.

5. Lactobacillus Casei 0.83mg:

Lactobacillus casei, a beneficial bacteria, thrives in the intestines, where it produces a large number of offspring and exerts its effects. According to research, L. casei can thrive in a wider range of acidity and temperature than other probiotic strains. For example, it has a better chance of surviving stomach acid and thriving in the digestive tract. Researchers discovered that L. casei and L. acidophilus, another BioFit component, collaborate synergistically.

6. Lactobacillus Plantarium 2.5mg:

When compared to other lactic acid bacteria, Lactobacillus plantarum has one of the largest genomes. It is more resistant to other strains than others because, like Lactobacillus Casei, it can tolerate a wide range of acidity and temperature levels. L. plantarum is one of the strains that has received the most attention in the food and supplement industries, and there is a substantial body of evidence linking L. plantarum to healthy gut function.

7. Lactobacillus Acidophilus 0.83mg

Lactobacillus acidophilus, the seventh and final Lactobacillus strain found in BioFit, has been specifically linked to weight loss. Several studies have found that Lactobacillus acidophilus is involved in the production of the enzyme amylase. Amylase is a digestive enzyme that aids in the breakdown of carbohydrates in the intestine and digestive tract. Bloating may occur after eating carbohydrates if you do not have enough of this digestive enzyme. Lactobacillus acidophilus, according to the manufacturer, promotes weight loss and overall gut health.

Biofit Weight Loss Benefits

BioFit claims to provide the following benefits to the body, resulting in a healthy weight loss journey with no side effects:-

Improves Digestion

It claims to improve digestion by affecting metabolism. To have healthy digestion, your metabolism must be working properly. A slow metabolism that is unable to convert food into energy compounds is the reason why so many people suffer from various diseases. The healthy probiotic bacteria in BioFit aid in the digestion of food, resulting in rapid weight loss.

Helps in a Healthy Digestive Tract

Many people suffer from constipation, bloating, stomach aches, and hunger pangs. These issues must be addressed or your digestive tract will become inefficient at losing weight. BioFit makes use of probiotic strains that aid in digestive health. The gut bacterium converts food into energy, speeds up your metabolism, aids in digestion and excretion, prevents constipation, and helps with bloating.

Aids in Weight Loss

The rapid weight loss journey is one of its most prominent claims. These claims appear to be true if we focus on the seven bacteria strains used in the formula. Each BioFit capsule contains 5.75 billion colony-forming units (CLU), which aid gut bacteria in performing their functions quickly and efficiently.
Another significant feature of this supplement is the presence of seven strains of probiotic bacteria. Typically, weight loss supplements contain 3-4 strains of probiotic bacteria, but it has upped the ante to seven!

Strengthens Immune System

BioFit also claims to improve immune system function. It strengthens and maintains the immune system, which in turn feeds the gut bacteria. A weakened immune system cannot withstand all of the body’s operations. It also invites more viruses and bacteria to disrupt normal functioning, but BioFit strengthens it and improves its efficacy.

Contains Medium Chain Triglycerides

This supplement contains medium (MCTs), which aids in the probiotics’ effects. Unlike other long fatty acids, MCTs are very easy to digest. BioFit encases the probiotic ingredients in a fatty molecule layer, ensuring that they reach the digestive system.

Probiotic Matrix

BioFit contains a seven-strain probiotic matrix, as opposed to other weight loss products that contain three to five strains. These strains work in various ways to improve fat loss and digestion. They also aid in gut health and immunity.

NoSleep link
“Ugh, Emma, can you get the trunk for me?”
The dim winter sun was setting over the parking lot, nearly devoid of shoppers at this late hour, aside from a van in one distant corner that had just started backing out of its spot.
I set my bag down in the passenger seat and rounded the side of my mum’s penicillium-green Camry, met with her impatient and lightly sweating face. I popped the trunk, allowing her to practically collapse into it with the weight of the groceries. Something burst in one of the bags, prompting her to curse under her breath.
“I just don’t get why you won’t stick a quarter in those trolleys over there. You get it back afterwards.”
Mum, still arranging the bags into a position that would stop them toppling over on the drive home, looked at me scornfully.
“The Walmart downtown doesn’t make you pay. None of the stores around here do, so why should I? You know we only come here to Aldi ‘cause it’s cheaper.”
“I just said you get the quarter back afterwards. It’s to make sure people put the trolleys back,” I sighed, knowing there was no swaying her. Instead of shooting back with some flimsy reasoning, mum patted her pockets and swore.
“Oh for goodness sake, I’ve gone and left my wallet at the till again, haven’t I?”
Before I could get a word out, she was gone like a rocket, racing against the store’s closing time. Night’s chill descended, raising gooseflesh, so I slammed the trunk and hopped back into the passenger seat, out of the cold.
I sat there, praying my mum had the haste to get back soon with the keys and start up the heating. There was something else, though. My heart made itself known with a rising, incessant pulse. Was something wrong?
“Not this again,” I groaned, shutting my eyes and following a basic breathing routine to calm my nerves. The anxiety was bad enough, but the anger I felt at the nonsense panic had always been worse for me.
“Just stop it. Lasagna’s waiting for us at home. It’s gonna be so g–”
I opened my eyes.
Had I heard something? No, not heard, felt? I leaned forward to scan the parking lot. Nothing. Then I jumped back in my seat. There it was again. It was subtle, so much so I was surprised I’d even noticed it. A light, but bone-deep vibration was emanating from somewhere. Almost like someone nearby was subtly trying to pull down on a gigantic zipper, one tooth at a time. The comparison should’ve sounded silly, but my heart continued to pound faster and faster until I was sure beyond a doubt that something bad would happen. Something was wrong.
It took me longer than I’d have liked to get out, with the seat belt clamping as I struggled to unbuckle. There was no smell in the air. Did it smell before? I couldn’t remember. No more cars in the lot, only the Camry. No more noise.
Again, that slight vibration in the air. Too low a frequency to determine its source, but enough to sense it was there. I tilted my head, staring up at lumpy clouds that cast shadows on each other. Ah, those clouds. I’ve always loved how they look around sundown. It helped to ease my heart a little.
Until one of the shadows moved.
I’m not stupid, I thought it was just a cloud’s shadow matching its slow drift across the sky - I squinted. The shadow wasn’t being cast on a cloud. It was above, or behind them, which made me realise whatever I was seeing, it wasn’t a shadow.
What happened next is hard to articulate. I’ve never seen anything else like it, before or since. The dark mass above the clouds began to sort of extend, beaming down at an angle, like sun rays but moving at a steady pace, or how water or ink moves up paper by way of capillary action. A black beam. But, it was more than that.
I was so absorbed in the spectacle, it hadn’t fully dawned on me that this thing was getting closer. Closer to me. And as it closed in, there was no mistaking it. While it continued to stretch all the way back above the clouds, the outline of it, the cross-section, was almost human-shaped. Arms, head, body, and legs, but the limbs ended in stunted nubs, like a stick figure.
By the time it stopped a good three or four storeys above, I still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t. I could do nothing but watch in disbelief as lights and layers of colour began to flash inside the human-ish figure, seeming to have parallax, as if whatever lay beyond was a space of its own.
Amazingly, something managed to distract me for a moment. A flash of light in my peripheral. A phone torch.
“Emma? Emma! Are you having a stroke or something?”
I blinked.
“What– no? I mean, I…”
Mum was back, apparently still without her wallet, now scanning the asphalt for any sign of it. Why didn’t I hear her coming back?
She clicked her tongue.
“Then stop standing there like an idiot and help me find it. Come on, it’s getting late.”
I did, in fact, keep standing there, glancing between her and the flashing shadow prism above us. I did a double take. Those glaringly bright, almost offensively coloured layers were speeding up towards the end of the beam, towards me, piling up on themselves to assemble a figure, stepping soundlessly out into thin air.
Mum kept calling for me. I heard her, but couldn’t process her words. Everything else was secondary to the figure above us. It had fully formed, cloaked in a coarse-looking gown, with skin so pale and shadeless it was as if it radiated a faint glow. The sound of rapid footsteps brought me back to myself, and I looked down just in time to see my mum, face painted in a teetering mixture of worry and annoyance. She went to speak but I held up a hand, and pointed to the figure.
Squinting at me, she looked to where I was pointing, and froze. The whole time, I’d secretly been hoping I was just hallucinating, but she saw it too. She saw something, at least, and that was enough to confirm what I’d been dreading.
“...who is that?” she asked. Her voice sounded so small and dry. If I could’ve spoken I’d have asked, “what is that?”
Instead, I watched on in terror as the figure began a slow descent, straight down. The closer it drew, the more of it I could make out. There were these iridescent lines floating across the surface of its skin, moving like sun patterns on the bottom of a swimming pool. Like the silhouette it had emerged from, it had no hands or feet. Just rounded nubs, although those on its arms had the same slight depression in the centre.
“Car… the car. Mum, the car, get in the car, now,” I whispered. No response. I reached out, grabbing her by the arm and shaking her. She was absolutely rigid. One of us had to move, and I imagined we were both hoping the other would do so.
A second figure emerged from the prism, identical to the first, except it was wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts. At the same time, the first one finally touched down on the asphalt and stood, tilting its head up, apparently waiting for the other to arrive.
If I had any lingering doubt that these things weren’t human, it was squashed when I saw their faces - or, lack thereof. I couldn’t see any ears, and where a face should’ve been was only a circular metal grate. Maybe gold, or brass.
The four of us stood there, still and silent. They stared at us, and we stared right back, completely lost in the foreign sight of the beings. A breath, then they turned to each other. I don’t know if I expected them to talk, but they didn’t. Not in any language I know. Faint at first, getting brighter with every pulse, constellations began to flash behind the metal face-grates of each of them. I heard nothing aside from a few damped vibrations, yet somehow, I knew there was a conversation going on.
Very slowly, I took a step back, and reached an arm behind me to feel for the car. All the while, my eyes stayed locked on the beings. I kept reaching, further and further. My fingers brushed nothing but air.
One of them abruptly turned and looked at me, or at mum, I couldn’t tell. My chest tightened. This wasn’t happening. It raised one stunted arm to point at my mum, releasing another cascade of flashing lights behind its grill face. The other crossed its arms and looked over too, like it was waiting for something.
I had to risk it. I pivoted, throwing a glance over my shoulder. The car was twenty, maybe twenty-five feet away. I didn’t remember wandering that far from it. I noticed something else then: the trees, the grass, all of the greenery surrounding the parking lot was… gone. It gave me the impression of a planet that had never evolved life, or where all life was extinct. There was only bare, dark soil enclosing the lot.
Seconds before I went for the car, mum let out a scream. One that I still hear from time to time, in dreams and background noise. I spun around to see the first being, the one wearing a gown, gliding across the ground with an arm outstretched. Mum didn’t have time to move. It came to a dead stop before her, arm still raised, and I saw something emerging from the small depression at the end of its stump - what I now understood was a hole. Whatever came out was darker than the night sky, and I couldn’t place its shape, but it looked like it was made out of a mass of ever-shifting black crystals.
Mum screamed again. It was more of a gasp actually, a gasp that lasted barely a second before a bubble broke free of the shifting appendage and fixed itself over her mouth, silencing her. Another four floated down to her wrists and ankles, binding her in place and stopping her from moving as one more broke off from the being. It looked a little like an arrowhead, or some other sharp, triangular tool, a razor edge cutting through the air and hovering just over her stomach.
I understood the danger then - not for me, but her. Abandoning caution, I leapt forward, yelling,
“Get away from her!”
But I rolled my ankle and went crashing down onto cold, hard asphalt. Dazed, I tried to lift myself, and managed to look up at the beings with blood pouring from my nose and a cut on my cheek. The one in front of my mum barely seemed to notice me, giving me a quick look then getting back to the matter at hand, whatever that was.
Mum squirmed against her restraints, issuing muffled groans through her nose. I forced my limbs to work, but I was held fast. Mounds of that shifting black crystal had smothered my hands, binding them to the ground.
I looked at my mum, helpless, terrified. She met my eyes, blinked away a tear, and squeezed her eyelids shut. At the back, the being wearing a T-shirt made some kind of gesture, like it was impatient, and the robed being nodded, turning back to mum and directing the arrow-shaped object. At the same time, her blouse began to lift up and off her, pulled by an invisible force and exposing her belly. The being hesitated for a second, and I felt a spark of hope, that it might show mercy.
But of course it didn’t.
The dark arrowhead pressed into her skin, slicing through layers like butter and dragging a line downwards, leaving a clean incision. Wasting no time, the being reached inside, fiddled around for a moment, then pulled out the severed end of my mum’s intestine. Blood and shit splattered the ground, trailing away from her as the being floated backwards, keeping hold of the organ until it was stretched to its full length.
I tasted bile.
“STOP! You fucks, you fucking–”
A gush of vomit interrupted me, flooding out onto the ground and mixing in with the intestinal fluids to create a disgusting, speckled pattern which prompted another wave of vomit from me and tears to cloud my vision.
“Please…”
I wiped my sleeve over my eyes so I could see. The being in a T-shirt had a long, pole-shaped protrusion stretching out from the end of its arm, extending to match the length of my mother’s intestines. It studied something for a second, before shrugging, and nodding at the robed being.
In the blink of an eye, the intestines retracted back like a frightened snake and piled back inside mum’s body. I just stared, not able to understand. The sides of the incision pulled into each other and appeared to heal completely in a matter of seconds. As soon as I’d processed this, I felt my restraints slacken then disappear entirely, and I shot to my feet, nearly tripping over again, and grasped onto mum’s arm.
I pulled, under the assumption that she’d been released. She wasn’t. Why weren’t they letting her go?
Freezing up, I cranked my head to look at the beings. More flashing lights. The one in a T-shirt was handing something over to the other, but I couldn’t see anything passing between them. Maybe it was something invisible, or something my mind just wasn’t built to perceive.
I continued to tug mechanically, trying to free her. Her skin was cold and slick and she was shivering. It did no good. The black crystal held fast. I nearly collapsed in relief and shock when the robed figure began to ascend back up to the prism it had come from, but the other grabbed onto its gown, communicating something. The robed being dropped back down, but threw its arms out in what I’d guessed was frustration. T-shirt gestured towards us again, still conversing with the other, waving its arms around. Still, the robed figure seemed to acquiesce and slid across the ground towards us again. Lights continued to flash behind its grill-face, all varying shades of orange and red. Like it was angry.
I couldn’t let it happen again, and lunged at it, planning to do - I don’t really know. I just wanted to protect my mum. Right as I made contact with the being, I felt a shift in the air. The fluid in my ears swirled. It made me dizzy. When my eyes stopped rolling to the side, I realised I was being held still by two pale, stunted arms, with odd patches of hot and cold travelling around on its skin. Somehow, I’d wound up in the arms of the being wearing a T-shirt, and those arms held me tight, tighter than any living thing should be able to.
“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!” I screamed, flailing and lashing out. In a desperate bet for escape I tried to bite down on one of its arms. It felt like I’d been curb stomped, like I’d bitten down full-force on granite.
I kind of gave up after that. It just hurt too much to think. Instead, I took in my surroundings. Where was I again? Mum… mum.
The robed being was standing in the way of her, but it was doing something. I couldn’t see what, but by the way mum was squealing behind her gag, it made the first procedure sound like a pillow fight. I just cried. There was no other avenue for relief except the tears.
Then, everything went quiet. Mum trailed off into a whine, and then nothing. No wind, and no trees or leaves rustling, because they’d all vanished. Just me, mum, and these things. The one holding me loosened its grip and I gasped, gulping down stagnant air. It floated over to where mum was and the robed being stepped aside, finally letting me see what was happening.
I didn’t really want to know. I really, really didn’t. But my muscles were locked in place.
In one… hand? The robed being held one end of an artery it had pulled out of mum’s chest. Without warning, the two entities shot up into the air, coming to a halt somewhere above. As they moved, more blood vessels phased through the skin of mum’s body, contorting and straightening to fuse at their ends, forming an unholy, pulsing rope.
With speed faster than I could process, the beings flew away, vanishing into the night while clutching the single fused vessel of veins, arteries, and capillaries. There was blood, yes, but only a little. It all seemed to be contained in that one long tube they continued to pull along through the atmosphere.
From the opposite direction, they passed once. I saw them pass over one more time and disappear into the distance before the meaty vessel pulled taut. At the time, I hadn’t really pieced it together - I think they’d looped around the entire planet. Not once, but twice, and then some, in what couldn’t have been more than ten seconds.
I blinked, and they were back, standing in the parking lot and flashing their lights at each other. I didn’t even have the energy to whisper in protest. T-shirt looked reluctant in some way, and handed over more of something I couldn’t see to the robed entity.
As they did this, the red string they’d made from mum’s blood vessels pulled back by itself at impossible speeds, retracting out of over two loops of planet Earth and back into my mum, breaking apart, phasing back inside and reassembling into their proper structure. That’s what I’d guessed, anyway.
Glassy eyed and so, so pale, the crystalline restraints dissolved and my mum slumped limp to the ground. I stood motionless for a second before realising my own restraints were gone as well, and I bolted over to her.
I was whispering something. Assurances, maybe apologies, I can’t remember. The two beings watched us, then they ascended, back up to the dark prism and out of sight. It began to pull back, up into the sky, and when I blinked, all the trees and the grass were back.
It all felt normal. Almost normal. The only change was that the sky was a little darker, and my mum felt a little colder. Then a lot colder. I placed two fingers on her neck. There was no pulse.
When the paramedics arrived, they rushed over to us. Their movements were frantic but controlled. Just thirty seconds later, that urgent energy was gone, replaced by a dull rhythm that told me all I needed to know.
She was pronounced dead on scene.
The coroner later concluded that mum had simply ‘died’. No cause could be found, but brain damage signified a level of hypoxia. I guess that’s what happens when your blood is outside of you, even if just for a minute.
Strangely, I found my anxiety to diminish after that night. It still flares up now and then, but most of the time, there’s just this hollow feeling in its place. I don’t go to Aldi anymore. Seems silly to mull over something like that, but I can’t even be near those big parking lots now. I get my groceries delivered.
Maybe it sounds like I’m managing - I am. Inside, though, there’s a crack that can’t be fixed, can’t be filled. It’s worn down over time, gotten less jagged and easier to deal with. Things don’t really shock me anymore, or at least, the shock is dulled.
There will be no justice for her. Even if I sought it, I doubt we could ever even access whatever plane those beings hail from. Whatever power we think we have, all those things see when they look at us is a world of monkeys, banging stones together. I’m sure of it.
In fact, I’m willing to bet on it.
As much as they bet on my mum.