just wondering whether i should go for an adhd diagnosis test from a professional to see whether i have adhd or not, im taking national exams this year and i don’t wanna get so affected
here are some habits that i exhibit: i keep on shaking my legs and fidget a lot (especially while im studying and in class)
i get really agitated pretty easily (im very sensitive to noises and have really horrible impulsive thoughts)
I am always tired and also find it difficult to sleep at night (doesn’t matter if i sleep early or late)

About a month ago I went on holiday. We had a week in Egypt - averaged around 33°C, and we spent the majority of the time relaxing in the sun, reading, or chilling in the pool. The week after that we were still off work, and all was good.
Pretty much all of my symptoms cleared up after a few solid days of not doing much. It felt amazing - I'd forgotten how good it could feel! No shooting pains, no deep aches, no tenderness... honestly it was such a bloody relief.
Now, two weeks back into the daily grind and I'm I'm agony. Using a keyboard has left my hands and wrists painful again. My legs have shooting pains from my hip joints down to my knees. My jaw is throbbing, my feet hurt, my neck hurts, and I've had a migraine now for 4 days. And I wake up feeling more tired than when I went to bed.
It feels worse than its ever been before. Do I have to wait until my body gets used to the constant pain again? I wondering if having no pain for a little bit has taken away my resistance to it. All I know is I feel like crying with it all, but that only makes my head hurt more

(Note, this is one of those long, loooong “I went to Greece and this is what I did” post)
I've wanted to go to Greece since I was young. I wrote in my diary when I was 17 that I would go one day and exactly 10 years later I would actually go. Took me 4 years to save up. So I'm very happy.
I have 9 days there, 27th APR to 5th MAY
I arrived very early on the first day which is the 27th with my one backpack and one daypack, and went to Keramikos right away. Had ice cream on the way because I craved sweets after 17 hours traveling. I really love it there and it, along with Delphi, are my most favorite places I visited. I really like how tranquil it is, and I really like the museum and also the tortoises too. I had a dream about tortoises that night. Then I stopped and ate a Greek salad. I learned how to compliment food in Greek and made the waiter laugh lol. The second place I went to is the Agora and the temple of Hephaestus. The whole area is very beautiful, but I accidentally fell asleep and didn’t realize I was sitting where I shouldn’t be sitting but luckily someone woke me up. Felt bad about it :/ Well, anyway, I looked at the museum in the agora too. I really like the big shield (I didn’t know it’s a shield at first. it’s huge.). I found that I get dehydrated so quickly, so I tried to drink as often as I can. I can see the temple of Hephaestus from the agora! It look like a painting. I walked around the place, I just want to convince myself that I’m actually here first before I go to see the temple of Hephaestus. The people back home’s not gonna believe this, the temple is so pristine, so wonderfully preserved. I get to look at the inside which is not often in the pictures. Then I walked past the Monastiraki square to go to my hotel, then came out to get gyro. I slept at a hotel that night because I accidentally booked it (I intend to stay the rest of the night in Athens in a cheaper apartment).
The next day was the 28th May, initially a day trip to Delphi but as I got there I found out my booking was cancelled due to some problem so I booked a new one on the next available day which is the 30th. Initially, the 30th was the day I intended to climb Acropolis because it’s weekday/less busy, but it’s ok! so, I left my baggage in a baggage store place, and walk to Acropolis! I was very excited, my heart beat very fast all the way up and not because I’m tired or anything. I just can't believe I’m actually here. It’s very slippery, and at one point I look and see a long walk up, so I was busy looking at the path and not looking up because I was afraid of slipping, so I get to look around only once I was at the top, and when I look down I finally saw the Herodion and it is bigger and higher up than I thought, and my hair stand up. The Acropolis was ok, but the Erechtheion have always interest me more, because again, it’s on more thing that’s bigger in real life than in pictures. The path down from Acropolis is even more slippery. There were so many musicians, it’s very lively. Met a really cool guy who dressed as Spartan warrior. I walked through the Acropolis museum. I got sad about the missing karyatid, because there were 5 of them displayed, but the vacant space they left for the 6th made me sad. I hope she will stand in that spot one day (I was already missing my sisters and family too… so it feels a little personal to me.) I got really tired then so I ate another salad but this time an Athenian salad. Then I climbed Philopapou! I noticed a tall monument from the top of the Acropolis and wanted to see what it is. On the way I visited the prison of Sokrates, and then this clearing called Pnyx, and it's windy there and got a lot of shade so I slept a while before going to the top of it. Well the monument is beautiful and tall. I can't believe that, compared to the rest of the places I visited before, this monument is considered new. I got lost a bit on the way down (I didn’t go down the way I came. there is a path from the monument and I wanna see where it goes). and um, something happen on the way down. A man asked me if I want to get a coffee with him. I politely declined but that’s the first time in my hideous person life that someone ‘flirt’ with me. People don’t do that, unless as a joke. So I feel weird I guess but not bad at all. Anyway I was so tired so I call taxi with the app Freenow. it’s decent price, I think. I goes to get my baggage and walk to the apartment I’ll be staying and I found a “super food market” on the way (near Temple of Olympian Zeus) and I got some energy bars there. I watched the Temple of Zeus from behind the gate (I didn’t pay to go inside) and see the statue of Alexander the Great on the way. I wash my cloth at the apartment and ate instant rice porridge I brought from home (I was on budget, I can’t eat out every meal).
On the 29th May I woke early so I can have breakfast and hot tea because I got a little sick last night. It’s usually 35 degree celsius in my country so I’m not used to the cold. The tour office is just a few minutes walk from my apartment. I get to sit in the front of the bus and see in front, not just on the side! I’m excited because the route is ancient route, like there are temples on the way, and pass by Eleusis (I really like the book “The King must Die” by Mary Renault and it’s a location for important part of the story about Theseus) After a brief stop where I get to walk to the bridge across the Corinth canal, I finally got to Epidaurus. The theatre there is so unreal. Climbed to the top and still hear the ‘clink!’ of someone dropping a coin on the orchestra below. Museum is pretty, and the fact that almost all the statues are missing their heads are kinda eerie. there are so many medical tools in the museum too. Really made me realized about the fact that people nowaday come to Epidaurus for the theatre but people long ago come here to be treated for their illness. Very difference purposes. The tour stopped at Nafplio for lunch. Had grilled dish and learned how to squeeze lemon on meats. Also went to pharmacy to get something for a sore throat and a face mask. An hour later I was in Mycenae archeological site! I really looked forward to see the Lion gate and it did not dissappoint. Bigger and taller than I imagined. 2 years ago I painted a picture of the Lion gate, and I tried walking around for an angle that fit the one in my painting. I took one, and when I put the pictures and the painting side by side, it’s almost the same angle, just different lighting! (It was morning in my painting, but mid day when I took the picture) It’s very intimidating and I imagine it must have been very scary to defeated enemies or captives, being brought into this city and looking up from their chains to see the lions. The tomb of Atreus is chilling. Both because it’s cold inside but also because it’s, well, a tomb. A large and important one. Overall, Argolis is a beautiful region, a lot of plains and very windy. Once again very tired when I got back to my apartment, but I get to wash my hair!
The 30th is my long-awaited Delphi day tour. Like I said, this was originally on the 28th but due to problem with, I think, the app I used to book it, it got cancelled without me knowing, and the tour company is very helpful and helped me book it for a very fair price, but I’ll just have to buy tickets myself. It’s a longer drive this time, but the sceneries is beautiful. I LOVE mountains, so the views interests me all the way there (even if I didn’t get to sit in the front, and the window is tinted so it’s a little dark) I really admire bus drivers in Greece. The mountain path is narrow in the village on the way, but they’re all very good drivers. It’s quite cold up there. There are caterpillar silk nest on the pine trees that look like cotton candies. Delphi is… um, it’s like it’s not in this world. It’s like it’s from another world, and maybe you could say that it is, it’s from the world in the past, or something. I felt as if I was in a dream. I can’t explain it, but it make the place all quiet and tranquil despite all the wind and the tourists. Like there are tourists, but it also feel as though they don’t exist, but it’s doesn’t feel vacant either, but instead there’s “presence” all around that doesn’t come from the tourists. I understand now why the people in the past believe that this is center of the world, or believe that gods were here. The tour guide said to meet at the museum in an hour and a half, and I really want to go see the small temple to Athena, just beyond the athletes area, but I was afraid I wouldn’t go to the tour guide in time so I didn’t go. Kinda regrets it. Anyway I fell in love at the museum in Delphi. The artifacts inside are gorgeous, I particularly love the sphynx and the charioteer (bought a postcard of it back home) but none as gorgeous as the statue of Antinous. He’s beautiful and I’ve never seen a boy more lovely than him, even the living ones. I seen the stone that contain a ‘sheet music’ and lyrics. I remember that melody, because I played a game called Assassin’s Creed Origin once and the musician NPCs sometimes plays this music. It’s good to finally see the ‘sheet music’ itself! Had a bit of a late lunch and had feta cheese salad, it’s delicious. Another long drive back, where I get to nap a bit.There’s a dessert place nearby where I tried some pastry and then a convenient store where I bought pudding from a freezer. Greece only have 3 Lays flavours that I’ve seen but a lot of bars of grains and cereal to choose from which I really enjoy (especially the ones with honey)
On the May day, I pack my things and checked out, again with my backpack on the back and daypack on the front. I called a taxi this time, before the strike happen, so I can go to the national archeological museum. I know the museum already have place to deposit backpacks. I walked around for about 4 hours. Everything is pretty even if I was still thinking about Antinous. Everything is amazing to me there. I like to be reminded of the fact that it’s really human’s nature to make pretty things. I visited the museum giftshop too. I travelled alone with little space so I know I shouldn’t buy lots of souvenirs, but I did get a lot of postcards because I like them, and allow myself one book. Had a heated gyros outside, just a quick bite, while I wait for a ‘break’ in the strike, then take the taxi to Spata, near the airport, because I have a very early flight tomorrow. I booked a room there that’s really huge (it’s a bit expansive, because there are flight change so I had to find new hotel.) Since I arrived in the early evening, I get to wash my cloths and see it dry before the night. It’s really really cold out here now. I get to rest the whole evening and eat the food I bought earlier. (I took a foldable tupperware with me. I use them to pack lunch for work but this trip I used it to pack leftovers from tavernas). I sleep early and was kinda nervous about the flight, but I woke early too.
on the 2nd of May, I booked a taxi on Freenow since the day before so by the time the taxi arrive, I was already standing outside waiting. Again, I shouldn't have gone out to wait early and should've stayed inside the building until the taxi arrived, because it's so cold, and I think this got me sich later. The flight went well and took me to Herakleion safely. I have a little problem finding which bus goes to the city but I found it and arrived safely to the center too. I took the bus number 2 to Knossos! I got very excited when I see the road sign that indicated that Knossos was just ahead. I ate first though. I had moussaka. I bought an audio guide because I want to try touring using an audio guide, and the direction was confusing, maybe because it's not updated. I ended up walking around and around trying to find the spot the tour was talking about. Knossos is as I expected. It was mostly reconstructed, but I still had a lot of fun imagining what it could look like, and thinking about the people that lived there. It means something to me because I've always been obsessed with the minotaur since I was little, since before knowing what country the story come from. So seeing something related to, or even potentially the origin of the tale, has been super exciting to me, and also because, as I mentioned, I really like Renault's “The King Must Die”. I really love it there. The review said it’s not authentic and I agree, but to me, it matters enough that I’m here, so I’m very happy with that. Unfortunately, I spent so much time in Knossos that I didn’t spent as much as I want in Herakleion musuem! Still feel bad about that. But I get to see the bull leap frescoes, and all the pots and vases and statues with bulls on it. There’s so many thing with bulls, like a statue and a really beautiful bull head vessel and a small statuettes with people grabbing on a bull’s horns. I really love them all. I get to see the real vase with octopus. I have a blanket with Minoan octopus on it, it’s good to see the real thing. I got a tiny bronze bull replica of the one in the museum. It’s small so it doesn’t weight much. Unfortunately, for the rest of my journey, I’d be sick. It start with sore throat that evening, which progress into symptoms of sinusitis. I had to visit the pharmacy again. Hot tea didn’t help this time, my nose was too dry for too long and I think I’ve been cold for too long as well.
The 3rd of May is holiday, I know this, so I pick this as the day to travel to Chania via bus and explore Chania. I woke up when I’m ready because I’m in no rush today. I ate all the supplies I had for dinner and breakfast to make my pack light, so I head out of the hotel and walk to the bus station. I waited a while, feeling myself getting more sick. It was about 3 hours to Chania with no bathroom break so I suffered a bit, but wow, the landscape of Crete is so much different from Attika. It’s less trees and more of large bushes. All the way, the right side is the sea, and the left is the mountain. It’s beautiful. I miss the cypress though, there are less cypress in Crete. On the way though! I saw a goat with a really big horns. I think it’s one of those Cretan wild goat, which I was excited to see at Samaria gorge. I had to use the bathroom real quick after I arrived. The bus stop is near my hotel, but it’s not time to check in yet, so I went and had lunch by the harbour. Look pretty just like in the pictures I’ve seen! I had calamari and sakanagi. It’s so delicious and refreshing. They have rice which is different from the one in my country, the rice is tiny and round and cuter than the white fluffy rice at my home. I was so full. I learned about how, after you asked for the bill, they’ll give you dessert first so I really look forward to it. I got a really good dessert too, and had to sit a while because I’m so full. I walked to the hotel, and there are two identical entrance. Luckily the staff was there and show me the right entrance. My room for the last 3 nights is small and cozy, really love it. I hope to eat out at dinner, but unfortunately, by that time, my sickness got so bad, I can only walk to the nearby supermarket and buy a salad and tea with honey. Tomorrow I was supposed to go hike the Samaria gorge. I’m a regular person, I wasn’t super fit, but I’m not a weakling either, and I have hiked in my country several times but it’s a different climate (hot and wet tropical jungle, not dry and cold) and I got Covid once which got my health down so bad that I had trouble even walking up stair but I bounced back since then. But this hike is a bit longer than my longest hike, so I trained myself for it for about 6 months and got fitter than I’ve ever been. I was so ready, sooooo ready. But that night, I had to emailed them to cancelled the hike because I got a bad fever, and my throat is all red. I just tried making myself feel comfortable all night. It’s a sad 4th of May, but I got better in the evening! When I’m sure I was well, I went out. Tomorrow everything will close again so this is my last chance to buy souvenirs. I got more postcards and, since I couldn’t go to Samaria to see the goats, I bought myself a little goat plushie that have “Love Crete” embroidered on his back. I would love if I could buy plushie from different countries I visited, of an important animals of that place (I got an emu from when I was in Australia) and for dinner, there’s this place called To Xani that I’ve read review of and wanted to try so I went. I have rabbit stifado because I’ve never tried rabbit. It’s like chicken but less fat and more sweet, to me. So far, that’s my favourite dish of all I’ve tried in Greece. That night, I planed to go to church and see how Christian celebrates Easter, but unfortunately, as the night gets late, I got sick again, so I went to sleep.
The 5th, my last day, is my relaxing day, which initially I want to use it to stroll around the city and chill. Instead I lay sick almost all day. I haven’t eaten the Cretan dish on my list yet, which is last one left on my list; Cretan pie. So I went out anyway during the evening and ordered a takeaway to eat at my hotel. At least I’m happy with that, especially because I stopped to watch the sun set for the last time before I leave tomorrow.
I pre-booked a taxi which take me to the airport. I flew from Chania to Athens, then I switched to another airline that take me home, with a 4 hours stop at Istanbul. during the longest leg of the flight, which is Istanbul to my home, I got more sick so rapidly (I think the cold and dry cabin air got me) I feel so guilty because I was afraid I might make other people sick too. (I wear mask all the time). 28 hours after I left my hotel in Chania, I got home safe with a new goat friend.
So, that’s my adventure! I’m not sure why I got that sick.It’s not covid though. I noticed that the dry climate made me thirsty very often and I think maybe I was dehydrated? Or is it simply the cold? Or maybe I caught something from Greek people because I noticed a lot of people were sneezing. Is it the season? I noticed some olive trees have flowers when it’s supposed to bloom in summer, so there’s an unusual weather and that make people sick and I caught something from them?
Next time I’ll bring some medicines of my own because medicines are expansive there. Next time, I’ll be better prepared. I want to go back again, because I haven’t seen everything yet. And especially have not hiked Samaria yet. Maybe next time, I’ll go when it’s warmer, but not in the middle of European people’s summer holiday, because I don’t like too many people.
Anyway, the trip may have ended badly, but over all it’s still a wonderful trip. I learned a lot about traveling, I become motivated to start another side hustle so I can make more money to travel, I learned about life outside my country. It’s also worth everything I have been doing to get here too. Overall, I’m very very happy, and can see myself going back there again.
Actually, during the time I prepare for this trip, one of the preparation is learning how to speak Greek. I learned on free online sources, and I’m proud that I get to speak Greek to Greek people (say things like "This food is delicious" "I like it" "the weather is cold" "I'm traveling for ten days")
I think people will ask because somehow some people can tell, so I’ll answer first, yes i have autism. I don’t expect many people to read to the end but thank you if you do. English is not my first language so I'm sorry for grammar mistakes that I made. Feel free to talk about your own experience too because I always love hearing about it. I’m from Thailand by the way.

Hello, i am 22 years old. i know the thread says it cant diagnose but im just looking for advice. i went to the er about 7 months ago with what i thought were symptoms of dvt. pain in my groin and calf, heart palpitations and chest pain, on and off. they basically laughed at me saying "dr. google told you u have a blood clot huh", took my blood, and scanned my chest xray, said it looked fine. then sent me home saying i have anxiety with a 3500$ bill.
now 7 months later, ive had worsening pain, and its daily now. my groin down to my knee will throb and sometimes sharp pain. sometimes my toes look blue/purple ish, but it becomes better after a shower. chest pain and fast heart rate, sometimes it feels like an electric bolt in my heart, other times its a sort of dull aching in my chest that will last minutes or hours. most nights i struggle to fall asleep as my chest is hurting and sometimes im woken up by intense heart pain. my lower left stomach oftentimes has a dull pain and ive also been having small amounts of blood and dark stool about once a month but most days it looks normal. and some days my stomach will bloat up massively like im pregnant but only on the left side for a couple hours. i am so tired all the time, having to take naps about every 4 or 5 hours. sometimes ill go a full day without much pain, other days its constant.
im just wondering if this sounds like a clot or pe to you guys, i cant afford to go to hospital if they are going to laugh at me, and not even do an ultrasound on my leg or anything. i was a heavy nicotine vaper for about 5 years, but have recently attempted to quit, (currently hit it about 3 times a day to get me through). everytime i try to quit, after about 2 days fully sober, my leg starts hurting worse so then i hit it again cuz i get scared. ive seen some studies online that nicotine may suppress symptoms of health issues and even may hold clots in place due to constriction which then can increase risk of the clot moving when u quit, so im wondering if each time in a couple days clean my symptoms are finally showing more or if it really is just anxiety.
the thing is, im not often anxious, and when i am most anxious, such as when i was at the hospital, i didnt feel the symptoms. they seem to be worst when i am just sitting at home watching or working on pc, or out with my gf doing simple things like grocery shop. again, i know you cant diagnose me, and i plan on making a dr appointment after the weekend passes. im just wondering your imput, and also what things i should tell the doctor to make sure they do the proper tests this time around. thank you

I haven’t journaled yet today, it’s 6:23pm so I guess I’ll start now. It’s been a fine day, I’ve been so sleepy though. But not drained tired, sleepy tired? I slept fine though, as per usual. I still managed to be pretty productive work wise which I’m proud of myself for.
I read an article today about assisted dying for mental health related reasons as opposed to physical health. It seems to be somewhat controversial, which is fine but I am firmly on the side that if all options have been exhausted then you should be able to use a healthcare service like that. I do realise I’m very pro assisted dying, I’d use the E word but lord knows I’d get chat requests being like blah blah blah you need god blah blah blah. I try and avoid certain searchy words for that reason, I clearly fail a lot of the time. Anyway I think it’s a good thing. I don’t think it should ever be considered a light decision, and I agree that there should be layers in place to ensure the person is entirely informed and clear on the decision. It’s hard though, because for those with psychiatric illnesses some may not be considered “in their right mind” so their application might be denied based on that, but I feel like the whole point of their application is because of their mind so… ? I’m sure there’s a smart way about deciphering who’s safe to get it and who’s not, but I just know it will always err on the side of caution and if there’s even a seed of doubt they’d get denied. But I think it’s important to have psychiatric illnesses included too, not just physical illnesses - both are suffering an unbearable amount, it’s just that one is visible and the other isn’t - and I don’t feel like other people should be able to make health related decisions for someone purely because they can’t see the illness. Anyway I’m glad it’s an option for some people, because killing yourself can be so violent and messy and a lot more traumatic for their family, whereas I think if they can choose to go peacefully then that’s a lot better. I realise it’s still hard for the family and friends and things, but I hate when people call it selfish. It is NOT selfish and I feel like the only people who say it’s selfish are the people who can’t fathom the amount of pain you can experience. And even if they haven’t experienced the feeling, so what? They likely also haven’t experienced cancer or paralysis or whatever else, but they show more sympathy then. It’s like they think people choose to hurt in their head or something. Anyway I think it’s very sad but I could not feel more strongly about the fact you should have control over your life - which includes how it ends. I don’t think some random doctor or government who doesn’t even know you should be able to dictate how you end your life. I think putting measures in place to review applications is important but I think there should be less decision from strangers and more decision from the individual that it’s actually affecting. Anyway. I’m a BIG believer in this and I’m glad that those suffering in their head might have some sort of option.
No therapy today, I thought I did but forgot we didn’t have a session this week as she’s on leave.
I love him so much. He just sent the cutest thing. So I asked if he could call me when he wakes up even if I’m asleep, and I said I know I can be clingy which is not news to him, anyway he said this is you with a lil smiley and it was a lil video of a baby panda latched on to a zookeepers leg and it wouldn’t let go. He is the zookeeper to my baby panda :) He just makes me so… everything. I can say things like I’m clingy and I miss you and can you please call me and I know he won’t think I’m silly or annoying or anything, or maybe he does sometimes but he doesn’t ever make me feel bad about it. I just love him so much it hurts.
His keyboard is all set up now and he’s so thrilled with it and it makes me so happy!
I wish I could use retinol, but I know my skin will go berserk if I do :(
I haven’t really done anything this evening. I’ve had a shower, read my book, watched some YT and tried to shape my nails a bit and failed. I’m so so so so bad at shaping nails.
There was an earthquake :(
I really need to book my usual appointments, I mean I can go longer with my brows but I do also kind of need hair, brow and nails appointments… I think I’ll wait a bit longer though. Especially for hair. And I can do my own nails and save $80 considering they do next to nothing anyway. I just feel so ugly. So so so so ugly.
I really have nothing to say so night night

Continued from part one.
In the mirror I saw a figure of the darkness next to the foot of my bed. I screamed, only for the figure to dash back inside my closet and close the doors behind it. To the naked eye, the doors seemed to roll back on their own, but because of the many mirrors inside my room, I could see the shadowy figure.
“What’s wrong?” my mom burst into my room not even four seconds later.
“J-j-just a nightmare?” I was uncertain if my imagination was too strong for my own good so I held back on the truth.
I wish I told her the truth. That wasn’t the last time I would see the figure in the mirror.
It happened again, about five years later. Yeah it didn’t happen right away. I wondered if the figure I saw was friendly and I simply scared it away for a while. That was my first mindset, but then I second guessed myself and simply thought maybe it was just my imagination playing with me.
At age 12, things started to become rocky with my parents. They fought over the same things, but they also fought over me. I had gone into the world of music to the point where I wanted to take up guitar, piano, and violin. My mom took one side of the stance where she didn’t believe that I could commit to any of them. My dad believed the opposite, fighting that I could do anything if I set my mind to it.
Again, conflict resided. My angry mother could still barge into my room if I didn’t lock the doors. She once found me writing, insisted on me showing her what I wrote, when I resisted she pulled it away from me and read my vampire fanfiction.
I was an angsty girl. Hence my writings were a bit suggestive at the time. My mom and my dad both read my work. My dad actually liked what I wrote aside from the fact it was about the supernatural. Of course, my mother again got mad since she’s the most religious in our family. She was, in a sense, a heretic.
Needless to say, since my family’s religion absolutely detests “spiritualistic and demonic” media, I got grounded. Also to clarify, yes this also meant I never read or watched the Harry Potter series, including the Twilight series. Although I don’t think I missed out on much with the Twilight series lol. Eventually I managed to rent a book that I got from my school’s library, called Hush, Hush, which laid in my backpack, tempting me to read it.
So there I was, no laptop and in my room. I didn’t really care since I had a guitar and a notebook. I still could find pleasure outside of my laptop, which of course my mother absolutely detested as well. Whenever she grounded me, she used to take away any kind of toy. Then, once she realized I could read on my own and was making up stories when I couldn’t read, she began to take books away. Punishments with my family wasn’t really a punishment, I could always find a way to entertain myself. Even if she took my notebooks away, I’d still end up daydreaming about something, even act out scenes I’d come up with in my head.
Now you can understand why I pushed off the incident with the figure in the mirror as a figment of my imagination. I had figured it was a draft, that the wheels and tracking were well lubricated with some kind of oil that makes it hard for them to stay in place.
Sitting on my bed at age 12, I leant back and closed my eyes. I had notebooks, several books, a keyboard for me to practice piano on, and a guitar. It wasn’t a big deal. (Yes I was a spoiled child. I’m owning up to this since I was the only girl among four boys- plus I was also 13 years younger than my youngest brother.) However I was so tired, that I decided on lazily daydreaming. Besides, I could always sneak my laptop back late at night.
As a devoted writer, I continued on imagining the story I began. I imagined what it would feel like to have fangs teasing the throat of the neck, how it would be to be kissed and then bitten by a vampire... my mind was rolling and it didn’t stop. I was a twelve year old girl going through puberty.
I told myself to stop and I decided to pull out the book, smiling at my little success. I went back to the page I left off on at the library earlier that day. I buried myself into the book and became sleepy. I nearly finished the book by the time I set the book aside and stupidly put it on my bedside table.
I passed out soon after. I don’t recall what kind of dream I had at first, all I know is that sometime later in the night, I woke up again, but I could not move my body at all. I looked around my room, which was now fully dark. I barely could recognize anything around me. The familiar outline of my vanity was gone, any silver reflection was gone, I did not see a single mirror, so I knew I was no longer in my room anymore.
A slight humming noise was around me, the room I was in lit up with a red flashing light. It felt like I was being pinned down by some kind of restraint system, so I looked down and noticed these short pale creatures crawling on top of me, towards my face. I felt a sharp sting in my leg, and I knew one of the creatures had bit me already.
It became to feel like sharp knives stabbing me all over my body, until five creatures met my face, their eyes sullen- beady- staring down at me with bloodied mouths and lunged at my neck, causing me to scream..The sound finally piercing through and I could hear myself breathing again, I could hear my screams and my frantic prayers escaping my lips.
Had my mom not come into my room and slapped me on my face, jolting me out of it- whatever it was- I would have seen more than I could bare. She saw the book and her anger brewed even more at me.
“Are you tempting the demons to attack you or something?” she fumed and took the book off of the table. She led me down to the entryway and opened the garage door. “Put it in there.”
I followed her command and put the book into the garage. I knew it wasn’t the book’s fault, but it was associated with “demunz” in her eyes, so I didn’t dare argue against her.
“Do you want to die? If you keep associating with demons, you know god will never forgive you. You won’t inherit everlasting life, only everlasting death. You know that right?!?” she yelled at me, had my dad been there that night- he would have stopped her from going that far. I suddenly missed him.
Her anger then died down after she ranted at me, once she recognized that I was still petrified. She at least brought me to, which made me thankful, but I also felt betrayed. She was supposed to protect me, but all she cared about was the idea of force feeding me her belief system. All she cared about was telling me I was wrong.
“I’m-” she had begun, and I just looked away from her and saw a shadow in my mirror again, standing behind my mom. It didn’t feel as eerie anymore. It felt almost comforting to see it, it moved from my mom to me. A figure of it’s arm wrapped around my shoulder, and I felt the cool breeze raise goosebumps at it’s touch.
“Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?” her voice lowered.
“I’ll sleep alone,” I remarked, still stung with the hurt from her hurtful remark.
She looked hurt for a second, but then returned to her normal frown. “I’ll sleep in the little entertainment room next to you, if you need me just yell out again.”
“Fine,” I simply just pulled my blankets over me again, waited for her to leave, then cried into my pillow.
My mom left, not seeing the dark figure in the mirror and went into the adjacent room. At her departure, the darkness came into my bed, the eerie feeling no longer there and it snuggled against me.
Shh. It hushed me and brushed my hair.
I didn’t question it. I had been afraid of it for so long, but with the sweet affection it gave me- the affection I desired and longed for from both of my parents.
The falling tears turned into a silent sob, my body shook against the bed, little breathy whimpers muffled by my pillow.
Shh, it repeated until I fell asleep again.
When morning came, I woke up with a sore neck and I was irritated with my mom. I remembered what happened and then I snuck out to my laptop and searched up what had happened to me. I learned it was sleep paralysis and figured maybe my imagination went too far with the vampire thing. I was stiff, my body was so sore and I saw my closet doors closed.
Again, I had felt as if my imagination had made it up. I knew the kind of comfort it gave me is what I desperately longed for. It gave me what my family didn’t, and I hated myself. I thought it was a figment of my imagination since it knew all the things I wanted. That is, until something else showed up. The shadow figure in the mirrors was just the start of it all.

First/Previous
The travel took on a less gloomy quality in the day that passed since Gemma’s self-reflection and although there remained a queer distance in her eyes, she seemed in better spirits in losing the weight of the words.
It was a night just beyond Wabash Crevasse that we pushed on till sunset was almost upon us and we were each tired and the food stocks ran low and so we found harbor in a half collapsed cellar where a home once stood; it was only after examining the slatted, rotted boards of the old place, fallen over, tired with decay, that we spied the cellar doors intact; sheets of door metal plied us with safety from the outside world and the interior of the place stank of mold and the deeper recesses were collapsed, but there was a cradle to crossbar the stair hatch and I put my prybar there for the night. We finished the water and canned tomatoes, and I smoked a cigarette, staving off the inevitable doom which would come with the dwindling of our supplies.
I’d peeked through the space where the doors met at the cellar’s entry and watched the full darkness there while the youngins spoke of life and the trivial pursuits of it and I hardly said a word besides.
Sitting on the lowest step with Trouble dumbly maintaining her station by me, by the low glow of the space in the threshold, I saw they’d pushed their bedrolls together and Andrew had fallen asleep with his arm over Gemma’s shoulder and her eyes glowed with shine from the crack, blinked a few times while seeing me; she too eventually drifted to sleep, and I spent time by the secured door.
Gunshots rang across the stillness, and they stirred from their quiet slumber and Gemma asked, “Harlan, is it alright?”
I moved to the space there at the doorway again and listened and watched what I could through that crack and nothing beyond came. “It’s safe. I’ll be up a bit longer. I’ll watch.”
Andrew asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about me. Rest. Sleep good and we can put more behind us.
They sat up, legs crossed triangle-wise, and Gemma spoke again, “Why do you have such a hard time sleeping? It seems I’m asleep after you and only awake after you too.”
“Yeah,” said Andrew.
“It’s cool at night. I can listen to the wind.” I shrugged.
“You should be the one that tries to get some sleep,” said Andrew.
I said nothing.
They reached out their arms and I shook my head.
“Here,” Gemma said, “Move your bedroll closer.” She reached across the dirt floor of the cellar and dragged my splayed roll so that it sat beside hers.
“I’ll sleep later.” I turned my attention back to the door and ignored them till their sounds of sleep could be heard. The Alukah was nowhere and did not tap on the door that night and when I moved to sleep, I shimmied onto the roll beside them, facing away on my shoulder; the dog followed, laid on the bare dirt beside me and I held the mutt.
Though I refused a noise as they stirred in the absolute darkness, I felt Gemma’s arm fall over my own shoulder and felt Andrew’s hand touch my back, and water traced the bridge of my nose and I slept deeply thereafter.
There was no breakfast without food, and the water was gone; I felt the eyes of the dog on us as we packed up our belongings that next morning and I tried not to imagine the poor animal skinned over fire. I smiled at Trouble, patted its head, scratched its chin; she sniffed my hand like she was looking for something that wouldn’t be found.
We went west again, ignoring roads and pushed through straight wasteland where nothing was and no one was, and with every dry footfall on the dry hard ground, I wished for rain, and I wished that when it had rained, as infrequent as it was, that I had been wise enough to save what we could from the sky; that sky was red and swollen and refused to burst. We pushed on through strange dead thickets where grayed and twisty yellow branches lurched from the ground into the sky like even they too wished for an end to all the suffering. It was days more till we would see Alexandria and though I could stave off hunger (thirst too, if necessary), I was not so certain that the children would be able to push on without it; they did not complain and watched the ground in our march and maintained higher spirits than I could’ve imagined from them.
Early in the day, they spoke often, and I listened and as they wore on, their words came less and even the dog seemed in a lower mood for the unsaid predicament; me too.
Gemma broke the silence on the matter by saying, “What are we going to do about food? Water?”
“We’ll push on.”
“We could turn back?” asked Andrew.
“The more time we spend out in the open, outside of a city, the more likely it is that the Alukah will catch us unawares. Tighten your belts.” Our feet took us around a dilapidated truck, an old thing with a rusty hook which dangled off a rear arm. “Save your urine.”
They made faces but did not protest.
“Does that work? You ever drink pee?” asked Andrew.
I laughed, “I thought we’d be there by now. I took us too long by trying to drop the scent of the Alukah. That thing’s hunted us for days—last night was the first time it ain’t bothered us. It’s got me wondering why.”
Gemma piped up, licking her dry lips before speaking, “Do you think that monster ran into those scavengers we saw?” Then I caught her shooting a look at Andrew, “At least we warned them.” Her smile was faint and almost indiscernible as one.
I shrugged. “Can’t say. Don’t think it’s smart to turn back. Won’t be long and we’ll touch the 40 and then it’ll be a straight on to Babylon—couple of days—can’t turn back though. Maybe without food; that’s doable. Water’s the worst, but if it comes to it,” I paused and looked on the weathered faces of the children, on the lowered head of Trouble which followed her nose across the ground (it searched just short of frantic), “Like I said, ‘save your urine’.”
The first pains of hunger held within me brought up some reminiscence and I wished for nothing more than to hold Suzanne; I could nearly smell them and in the swaying walk which took us on past toppled townships, I held long blinks where I could nearly make out their face and if I really pushed the limits of my imagination, I could feel them. In those moments, as we passed dead places, rotted pits of despair, I could think of little more than their presence. Though I knew it was a dangerous game, hoping for more than I was worth, I hoped for Suzanne then and I wished that I’d taken them up on their offer to travel to Alexandria with them; it could’ve been home—it never was in all the times I’d gone there, but who knows? The thoughts of Babylon brought forth their gardens; the wild gardens and the water which flowed freely through their pipes. I wished I was a different person entirely and that too would’ve been better for Suzanne; how it was that they’d seen anything in me, I don’t know. How it was that they could stoop to the level of being with someone like me—I warded off that thought, because to place the blame there would certainly be unfair. I thought of my love plainly and wanted a different life more suited to them.
Imaginations played more furiously, and I remembered the evening when Dave stopped me from leaping from that roof—it’s doubtful that he even realized that he’d slowed my demise; perhaps he did know—I wished then that I could ask him. Too kind for the world. People too kind for the world were scarce and hardly worth the trouble. Yet, there I was, chaperoning those two across the wastes.
Gemma was a broken person when I’d found her, tortured in Baphomet’s well; Andrew was a dullard boy who’d lost his hand. What a silly predicament.
I stopped in my movements and swiveled on my heel to catch Andrew by the shoulder. “You still got your hand, don’t you?”
In good humor, the boy grinned, lifted the nub on the end of his left forearm to show me, “Nope.”
“Dammit, no! The hand in the jar!”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “In my pack.”
“Stop,” I commanded Trouble; the dog hardly recognized my words and continued a way then circled back, sad eyes looking up from where she took to sit by my side. Gemma, both arms dangling loosely from her own pack’s shoulder straps, took into the circle we’d formed.
The girl asked, “What about the jar? It’s nasty, but I guess it’s his.”
“I think that’s it,” I said. I took Andrew by his shoulders, looked him in his eyes, “We could use it!”
“What?” The boy almost laughed in the display of our concern. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it! It’s good for a trap.” I shook him; maybe too hard. I almost smiled. “It’s worth a shot!”
“It’s mine.” He bit his top lip, withdrew from me.
“You’ll feel differently about that,” I said.
Gemma placed a hand on Andrew’s pack and tried ripping it open. “Give it to him!” shouted the girl.
The boy whipped from her grasp, and he spun on his feet, and panic stood on his face. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
I took a step forward, “No, not anymore.” I put out my palm, “Give it.”
Andrew nearly flinched at the thought of it and shook his head a little. “Why?”
“I told you why,” I said.
“You don’t even know if it’ll work, do you?” his words were long in protest.
The girl started again, “Andrew, please.”
He locked eyes with Gemma and once again, his bottom teeth came up to meet over his top lip and he moved his jaw methodically with contemplation.
“What does it even matter?” she asked.
“It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“C’mon,” he said, but his pack straps fell from his shoulders, and he hunkered down on the ground and opened his bag; his right hand plunged into the recesses therein and withdrew the jar with his severed left hand. He held the object up, refusing to come up from his open pack, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Take it then.” He shook the jar; its contents sloshed with liquid decay.
I grabbed the thing, held it to skylight; the remains within had congealed and rotted and lumps nearly floated in the brownish liquid which had formed in the base of the container. I shook it and stared for a moment at the miniscule debris which floated alongside the hand; each of its digits had swollen and erupted to expose bone; some had come away in pieces. “Tomorrow,” I said and nodded.
We gathered ourselves and Andrew pulled his pack on again and we moved, Trouble still looked sorry and the boy remained quiet while the girl chattered on with questions while we took through the dying ground in a formation with the dog on point then me then the children.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me.
“Not sure yet.”
Andrew made a noise like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“You think it will work?” asked Gemma.
“Nothing’s a guarantee. They’re smart—Alukah.”
“Smart enough to figure out a trap?”
I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
“We could put stakes in a pit.”
“Keep on the lookout for a building. Something with multiple floors.”
With that, we moved on, found a worn, mostly destroyed road and we fell into a travelling quiet and the thought of hunger or thirst arose again, and I pushed it down—though I knew the uneasiness could only last so long before savagery would overtake the human condition; the kids seemed strong enough, but I kept an eye on the dog too. Savagery belonged not only to humans, after all.
The ground of the wastes was harder when it was quiet, and it was flatter further west. The sky—red and full of thin and transparent drifting clouds—seemed an awful sight when stared at for too long; it was the thing which stretched as if to signal there wasn’t an end in any direction, as if to declare we had much more to go till safety. Wanderlust is a thing that I believe I’ve felt before, but under that sky, with those two and the dog, I didn’t feel it at all. It was doom that I felt. Ignorance and doom. And it was all because I was certain I’d made all the wrong mistakes, and it was coming back to me. I was experienced. We should’ve had food and water. Perhaps there was some deep and nasty part inside of me that had intended to sacrifice them along the way. The words of the Alukah might have rung true: You say you make no deals, but I smell it. I think you’d deal.
Surely, I felt differently. Surely.
“Getting darker,” called Andrew as we came to where signposts—worn and bent and barely legible—told us of a place once called Annapolis and the buildings were nearly gone entirely; places, maybe places that were once homes, were leveled—I was briefly caught in imagining what it might’ve been like all those ages ago. As are most places, it was haunted like that and when we came to a long rectangular structure of metal walls—thin walls—we took it as a place for rest for the night.
It once served as an agricultural station, for when we breached its entry, there were a line of dead machines—three in all—cultivators or tillers which stood higher than any of our heads and Gemma asked what they were, and I told her I thought they were for farming. The great rusted bodies stood in quiet shadow as we came through a side passage of the building and the great doors which had once been used to release those machines from the building stood frozen in their frame. I approached the doors, lighting my lantern and motioning for the children to shut the door we’d entered through.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed the doors would roll into the ceiling and the chains which held the doors in place were each secured with rusted padlocks—I removed my prybar from my pack and moved along the wall of doors, giving each old lock a smack with the weapon; each one held in place, seemingly fused there through years of corrosion, and I rounded the cultivators once more, back to the children, near the side door where they’d discovered a rickety stair frame which crawled up the side of the wall to a catwalk; along the catwalk, a levitated box stood at the height of the structure, stilted by metal legs, and we took the stairs slowly with the dog following close behind; the poor mutt was mute save the sound of its own shuffling paws.
The metal stairs creaked under our weight and Gemma held her own lantern high over her head so that the strange shadows of the place grew longer, stranger, and suddenly I felt very sure that something was in the dark with us, but there was no noise except what we made. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I followed the children up the stairs till we met the overhang of the catwalk and I peered into the shadows, the blades of the cultivators—far extended on foldable arms—struck up through the pool of blackness beneath us and I felt so cold there and if it were not for the breath of my fellow travelers, I might have been lost in the dark for longer than intended—lost and frozen and contemplative.
“There’s a room,” said the boy, and he pushed ahead on the hanging passage, and he was the first to the door. “Boxes,” he said plainly.
Upon coming to the place where he stood, Gemma pushed her lantern over the threshold, and I saw what he’d meant as I traced my own lantern to help; the room was crammed with plastic totes and old metal containers of varied sizes. There seemed to be enough empty space to maneuver through the room, but only if one watched their feet while they walked. Carefully.
We moved to the room, and I found a stack of crates to place my lantern then motioned for Gemma to douse hers. In minutes, the place was rearranged so that we could sit comfortably on the floor; crates lined the walls precariously and we breathed heavy from the work done, but we began to unpack and upon watching the children while I rolled a cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt, a terrible summation—all choices in my life had led me here and with them and perhaps it would have been a better world for them without me.
Mentally shrugging this thought away, I lit my cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then withdrew the jar which Andrew had handed over. I held it to the lantern to examine it. The grotesqueness of it hardly phased me and I watched it more curious and hopeful than disgusted.
“I hope it’ll work,” said the boy, “Whatever it is that you plan on doing with it.” He grimaced and maintained a further silence in patting his bedding for fluff. The dog moved to him, and she pushed her forehead against him where he squatted on floor. The boy scratched Trouble’s chin and whispered, “Good girl,” into the top of her head where he’d pushed his own face.
“I’m hungry,” said Gemma; she placed her chin in her arm while watching Andrew with the dog. She sat on her own flat bed there on the floor and stated plainly the thing that I’d hoped to ignore for longer.
“I know.” I took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke hang over my head. “The dog?”
Andrew recoiled, pulling Trouble closer into his arms.
I smiled. “It was a joke.”
Andrew relaxed, but only a moment before Gemma added, “Maybe.”
The boy narrowed his eyes in the girl’s direction, and she shrugged. “If it’s life or death.”
He didn’t say anything and merely continued stroking Trouble’s coat.
That night, we slept awfully and even in the complete darkness, I felt the cramp of the storage room and the angled shapes of the tools that protruded from the containers on all sides remained permanent well after we’d turned the light off and it felt like those shapes were the teeth of a great creature like we were sitting inside of its mouth, looking out.
Trouble positioned herself partially on my chest, her slow rhythmic breathing brought my thoughts calm and I whispered to her in the dark after I was sure the others were asleep, “I promise it was a joke.” And I brushed the back of her neck with my hand and the animal let go of a long sigh then continued that deep rhythmic breathing.
Still without food or water, the following day was the true indication of the misery to come. Gemma’s stomach growled audibly in waking and Andrew—though he kept his complaints to himself—smacked his lips more often or protruded the tongue in his mouth in a starvation for water. The room, in the daylight which peered through pinpricks of its half-decayed roof, seemed another beast altogether from its nighttime counterpart; it was not so frightening. Again, I admonished myself for the lack of preparation, but there was another thought that brought together a more cohesive feeling; we had a possible plan, a trap for the demon that’d been following us.
We went into the field to the west of the building where there was only dirt beneath our feet in the early sunlight and in the coolness of morning air, I nearly felt like a person. The sun crested the horizon and brought with it a warmth that would quickly become overwhelming—in those few minutes though—it felt good enough. I wished for the shy dew and saw none. The weirdness of holding Andrew’s rotting hand in a jar momentarily caught me and I almost laughed, but refrained and the dog and the children looked on while I held the container up and suddenly, seeing the congealed mass of tissue floating in its own excretions, I was overcome with the urge to run, the urge that nothing would ever be right again in my life, and that I was marked to be that way.
I blinked and tossed the jar to Andrew. “Say goodbye,” I said. He fumbled after it with his right hand and caught it to his chest.
“It’s strange you care so much anyway,” said Gemma, shrugging—her eyes forgave a millisecond of pity and when Andrew looked at her, still holding the jar in his right hand, she smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants.
“We’ve enough oil, I think,” my voice was raspy from it being early, “Enough for good fire, but if we use it, it’ll mean a few more dark nights on our way.”
“We’re going to set it on fire?” Andrew pondered, keeping his eyes to the contents of the jar. “It worked good enough last time. It’ll work,” I nodded, “I has to, doesn’t it?”
His dry lips creased into a brief smile, and he tossed the jar back to me and I caught it.
“Let’s dig,” I said.
Without much in the way of proper tools, we began at the ground under us with our hands, then taking turns with my prybar till there was a hole in the ground comfortably large enough to conceal a human head and I uncapped the jar and spilled it contents there and we covered it back and I lightly tamped it with my boot. My eyes scanned the outbuilding we’d taken refuge in the night prior and then to the street to the north then to the houses which stood as merely rotted plots of foundation with frames that struck from the ground more as markers than support. “I’ll take up over there across the street when it gets dark. I want you two in that storage room before anything goes off.”
“We can’t help?” asked Gemma.
“You can help by staying out of the way—the mutt too,” I said; the words were harsh, but my feelings were from worry.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stuck together?” asked the girl.
I shook my head. “You stay in the room and keep quiet. No matter what you hear, you stay quiet and safe.”
“That’ll put you at a bigger risk,” Gemma furrowed her brow at me and shifted around to look out on the houses across the street, “There’s hardly any cover over there.”
The boy nodded, smacked his lips, and rubbed his forearm across his mouth then audibly agreed with her.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, “No matter what you hear happening outside, no matter, you don’t open the door and you don’t scream—don’t make a noise at all. Alright? Even if you hear me calling you, you don’t do it.”
“Pfft,” Gemma crossed her arms and kicked her foot against the ground. The way her eyes seemed hollowed with bruising showed that the irritation would only grow without food. “Alright,” she finally sighed.
Andrew looked much the same as she did in that; he swallowed a dry swallow then stuffed his hand into his pocket and looked away when our eyes matched.
We gathered our light oil. Altogether, it seemed enough; rummaging through the room of the outbuilding we’d earlier taken refuge within, we managed three intact glass containers—the only ones found that wouldn’t leak with liquid; two were bottles and the third was the jar that’d once kept Andrew’s hand. With that work done, we sat with three Molotov cocktails within our huddled circle of the storage room.
“Is it enough?” asked Gemma.
“We’ll see,” I began rolling a cigarette to ignore the hunger and the thirst.
Andrew took to the corner and glanced over his shoulder only a moment before a steady liquid stream could be heard and when he rotated from the wall once the noise was finished and he held a canteen up to his nose, sniffed it and quivered and shook his head.
As the sun pushed on, I scanned the perimeter outside, and they followed. Far south I spied a mass of shadow inching across the horizon and Gemma commented, “What’s that?”
I pushed the binoculars to her and let her gaze through them.
“A fiend—that’s what we called it back in the day anyway. A mutant.”
She held the binoculars up and frowned. “A mutant? So, it was once human?”
“A fiend was once many humans.” I pointed out to the horizon though she couldn’t see me doing so and continued, “If you look at the edges of its shape, you’ll see it’s got limbs galore on it. Sticking up like hairs is what it’ll look like at this distance. Those are arms and legs. It’s got faces too. Many faces.” I shuddered.
“I can barely see any details,” she passed the binoculars to Andrew, and he looked through them, “What’s it do?”
“What?” I asked.
“What’s it do if it catches a person?”
“It pulls people into it. Makes you apart of its mass. Nasty fuckers.”
Andrew removed the lenses from his eyes and held them to his chest and asked, “It won’t mess up your trap, will it?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” I said, “You don’t want to mess with a fiend unless you have to.”
First/Previous
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First/Previous
Gemma was right about the sky’s open night, and I could sympathize with her recollection of the beauty, but for me it must’ve been a greater tragedy—the young woman had only ever enjoyed the stars in the pits of Golgotha; I could, long before, drink in the sky at leisure. Cruel memories.
The night the Rednecks died was one of viscera, but before that it was coolness on the breeze, a warmth by the fires while John played his guitar and we had only just taken two dozen kegs of lager (personal reserves) from the Atlanta despot—the man that kept his subjects as slaves and not a person among the camp was left without budding intoxication. No matter the age, everyone was invited to be merry; if it was that children too faced the plight of a bad world, then so too should they reap the moments of plenty—or so the camp figured.
John had taken a group by the fires where wagons were drawn in interlocking semicircles for cover and Jackson sat beside the picker. Jackson was a man which normally preferred quiet reflection over boisterous singing and nearly never wore the band on his throat, and yet there he was belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs, tankard in hand, red cloth blazed around his neck—it was a contagion and those drunk enough for easier embarrassment sang proudly along:
“There is power, there is power in a band of working folk!
When we stand hand in hand,
That’s a power, that’s the power,
That must rule in every land!”
I’d taken to the outlying shadows with my back pressed against the gas-powered caleche, my own tankard in hand. I loved the warmth of that great big family, truly, but even in those days—and maybe it was that queer youthfulness which longed for individualism that made me that way then—I remained as distanced as possible when I could. I sipped the lager, it was a fine drink and my brother Billy, nearly as old as I was when I’d first taken up in the infantry, swaggered to stand beside me just as quiet for minutes and we looked at the stars and he asked me what it was like to kill a man.
“Is it hard?” he asked.
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“Killing monsters ain’t so bad. Don’t know if I could do it to a person.”
“You could if they meant to kill you; or if they meant to do it to someone you cared about,” I promised him. In those days, spry, energized, I held no time for staring into abysses; though I still wasn’t a man fully, I pretended as one. It was about family, and it was about doing what was right—what’s right seemed to change, or I changed. The world felt stark with good and evil and even later I’d feel that sentiment well up in me, but if that’s true, I know I stand more on the latter and so I intentionally obfuscated it—this I know. If not, it might be too much to bear. I was required to lie to myself and even in knowing I lied, it was better.
Billy tugged on the red kerchief around his throat and asked me how it looked on him.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Don’t think I look stupid at all?”
I smiled over my drink, “You always look stupid.” I sipped. “The neckwear’s fine.”
“Give me a break,” said Billy; he investigated his own cup, gave it a swish with his wrist, watching its contents swirl. “Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll die?”
“Sometimes—nights like this—I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Really?” my brother asked.
“There’s always a chance of it. Every moment, I guess.”
He smiled. “I wish I had that confidence.”
“You’ll get it,” I returned his smile; it was true that he would gain the fighting spirit. It came to us all with time and reminiscing on the early days, I recall the grit and the hatred—there was learning there too though. Besides, I’d seen the squalors of a stationary man. The stagnation of a place, an unmoving home.
John put his guitar away and laughter erupted from the crowd from something said and Sibylle, cowboy hat cocked funny, traipsed across the camp to the open keg for a refill; the man there, tending the cylinders, was a man named Tandy (a foreigner and one unknown besides the way he smoked a skunk pipe and told wild stories). My mother leaned over while Tandy opened the spigot mouth on the keg, and she froze there, and I could see her there cut out forever against the light of the fires; I watched, and it came so suddenly that I couldn’t be sure what’d happened at all. It was so sudden that I couldn’t find my weapon and I couldn’t find even the courage to fight because in those moments it wasn’t courage I needed, it was grounds to understand.
Sibylle came apart in two pieces immediately, torn completely through and dust erupted as her legs struck the ground while her torso spun through the air like a top, a trail of liquid trailed after, caught in the blue of night so it shone as black; she couldn’t scream. Tandy was a statue. Before anyone could react, more flesh, other bodies, went up and there was all manner of limbs which filled the ground, and it is astounding how quickly a red mist forms across the ground during a massacre. Perhaps the wails of my comrades started before, perhaps others fell before Sibylle, but I could not comprehend the goings-on till I saw her drop the way she did.
Frail human screams rose on the night; I slammed to the ground, tankard gone away and hands scrambling in the dirt; I reached up blindly and yanked Billy to my level and his expression was one of innocence, panic, tears even. Glancing around, I saw the demons bolt from the pitch-black darkness on the edges of camp, mutants taking the fore while greater creatures lurked further back, some hurled whips of gliding metal which writhed over their heads when they stretched them out for a strike—alien—and they sliced directly through soft human bodies. Not even a cry escaped me, but Billy let go with it and I slapped my cupped hand over his mouth hard to hold the screams. His voice would not have been alone anyway, not alongside that startling cacophony. Amidst the cries of people, there were the cries of horses, of our hounds.
We rolled across the ground, slipped beneath the raised body of the gas-powered caleche, remained quiet in the dark, peeked out between the wheels.
“What’s happening?” Billy whispered through my fingers; I removed my hand from him and caught a glimpse of him framed in a square of firelight through the wheels—we lay there on our bellies and the left side of his face was glazed with dirt where I’d pulled him down.
“Shh,” I told him, “Shh, please. Please.” Not another word came while I pleaded with him, pleaded with the world to make this all a nightmare.
Through the haze and the running silhouettes painted black, I saw what might have been Jackson; he stumbled and in the moment that it took me to gasp, his head was gone from his body, his torso slid on as he collapsed, came to rest mere feet from the motor wagon. I told myself that it wasn’t him, but it probably was.
Some mutants lumbered through the camp like animated corpses, some leapt with wild energy or sprayed noxious fumes which lingered in the air; others still were amalgams of humanlike limbs themselves—fiends—exhausting terrible sounds, producing smells of sulfur, glistening with whatever liquids excreted from their oblong alien orifices. Demons ran amok, chanted in devil tongued languages, laughed madly at the destruction—others still, those which displayed some greater intelligence, broke into a song I could never hope or want to replicate; it seemed a unified damnation.
“Please,” I repeated in a whimper and Billy hushed me this time and I realized we were holding hands, squeezing for dear life as figures walked the camp, speared those half-alive, elected others for twisted carnality.
In darkness, in fright plainly, we scuttled from the recess of our hiding place, kept quiet, held to each other, and went into the wasteland where nothing was—every shadow was a potential threat, every second could’ve been the last. We were holding hands; then we weren’t.
Only a glance—that’s all I afforded my brother and nothing more—what a joke of a person I am! What a coward I was. Always.
Something got him in the dark and instead of dying alongside those I cared about, I went on, heartbeat driving me till it was all that I heard in my ears and my muscles ached and my chest heaved and sweat covered me, chilled me in the breeze of the night—it was only once I’d accepted the dark completely, crawled into a hollowed space of rocks along a squat ridge that I watched the demolished camp; it seemed no larger than a spark, but the creatures, fiends and others continued their war cries; never before had I witnessed demons participate in such an attack.
I watched till the sun came, till the fires became smoke, then I watched the band of hell creatures disband. The smell of sulfur remained in the air—copper too—and I stumbled back to the camp in a dreamlike daze, totally unbelieving of the things I saw. Among those dead on the ground, I could recognize none; among those piked from rear to shoulder, standing like morbid scarecrows where they’d been steadied against the ground, I could not want to recognize.
Many of the wagons were overturned, including the gas-powered caleche and I went to it; the metal of its body was warped but I fell to the ground by it and pushed my back against the exposed undercarriage, remained frozen there while examining the bodies, the terrible strips of skin which rested places like wet sheets of paper, the piles of bones removed and smashed and piled.
I cried so deeply that oxygen became a memory, and the shakes couldn’t be contained.
It was like that for so long, knees pulled up, face pushed between, and the wails came unafraid of whatever attention they might garner; there was no rationale, but I imagine if there had been, I would’ve welcomed death in that misery. It was a deep wound that not even my own cowardice would overcome for the sake of survival.
Unaware of my surroundings, not wanting to look up from the ground between my legs, the noise which had started out as imaginary became real and I raised my head then to listen better and wipe my sore eyes; it was the sound of clip-clop horse hooves and I mildly wondered if any of the animals had been spared. I stood and pivoted around the dead camp and there it was, a man on a painted horse with golden hair; he leisurely drove the mount through the place, maneuvering around pools of blood, clumps of body parts and upon seeing me, he smiled and offered a languid wave, keeping one of his gloved hands on the reins.
The man wore white and swished his hair back upon arriving directly in front of me. Ahoy, he offered kindly, Did you happen to see the other riders?
I shook my head, feeling numb.
Ah, he said, I could have sworn four other riders, at least, passed me on my way. His gray eyes examined the carnage. Shame. He shook his head. You are?
“H-harlan.”
He nodded and nearly offered an expression of genuine condolence before descending from the horse; the animal gave a gentle grunt and wandered away from its master to inspect a nearby group of the dead. The man offered his hand, and I took it in a shake. Mephisto, said the man. He flashed a smile again before his face grew serious. I’ve come to you to deal.
I shot him a questioning look, one of bafflement.
I heard your calls from far off. He nodded, removed a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and swiped it down his face. Hot out. He shrugged then replaced the cloth in his pocket. This, he motioned to the disarray of vehicles, of bodies, I can’t fix all this—it’s too much—but there’s a person you love, I know. I could bring them back.
“Doctor?” In retrospect it was such a naïve question.
He shook his head.
“Angel?”
He grinned and nodded, Sure.
“Demon?”
Undoubtedly. His eyes—pits of gray in that radiant face—nearly expressed solemness; he daintily shook the hair from his face and looked at his steed which sniffed a corpse. What’s the word, Harlan? There are others calling and I must be on my way soon—I can’t dally. There was a sharpness to the words. Can’t dally. We must convene soon, or I’ll mosey on.
I snorted back the clog in my nose from the tears and wiped my eyes with my sleeves. “Okay.”
Deal?
I nodded, “Deal.”
Sleep tonight, said Mephisto, Sleep and you’ll be rewarded in the morning.
“You said it’s a deal.”
He nodded and scanned the carnage before we matched gazes and then he said, Yes?
“What is it you want from me?”
Nothing you need now. He called the horse, and it came, and he swept his feet quickly from the ground and settled into position atop the animal. Sleep, Harlan. You won’t be bothered. There are worse things still over the horizon.
I watched him go till he disappeared and once he was gone, I couldn’t cry anymore and instead rummaged through the wagons for what I might carry; along the way I found John, face twisted but corpse intact. The body from the previous night that I’d guessed was Jackson couldn’t be determined but I found him nowhere else. I slid Sibylle’s holster from her hips, fell hard onto the ground and found that I could sob more. I took her cowboy hat, placed it on my head and held her pistol in one hand and the belt holster dangled from the other while I searched the other bodies; there were so many, but I could not find Billy.
Waiting for darkness, I took the spot where I rested, back against the caleche’s undercarriage, watched the sky and felt the gun in my hand; it was heavy. I put it to my head, closed my eyes, and whispered affirmations to myself then I put the pistol between my splayed legs, watched it still in the dirt, and pulled the hat down over my eyes but it did little for the smell. Though the brim of the hat cut the sky out, I watched the ground and saw circling shadows form overhead and heard calls of turkey vultures; they came to pick over the bodies. I withdrew my knees to my chest there again and laid my forearm across them and bit into my arm while closing my eyes. I had thought I was a man and for a time, maybe I was, but there in that miserable pit of despair I became a child again and if I’d become more delirious, I’m sure I might’ve called out for Jackson like it was a bad dream.
Into a fading stupor of sleep in the sun I went and when I awoke again it was dark and chilly and I was tired and hungry but too sick to eat and hardly strong enough to move; I looked at the gun and put it into its holster and left it there by the caleche. In the light of the moon and stars, I moved to gather a bolt of canvas; I unfurled the fabric and created a leaning shelter against the overturned vehicle and crawled into it. There was a hole in the canvas, and I peeked out at the stars.
Weeping came again, but not so uproarious; I was stuck there letting go of whimpers, lying on my back, feeling the tears trace in lines from the outer corners of my eyes to collect along my earlobes. In time, I fell to sleep again on the hard ground because the mourning had taken all else from me.
A pinpoint of sunlight broke my eyelids and I jerked awake and reached for the holster, but it was gone. So was the hat. I crawled from the leaning shelter and there he was.
Billy stood plainly among the dried, congealed blood-soaked field and he looked on to the horizon and all shadows were long in the midday sun which hung up there in a soft blue sky. Whether it be a dream or a spell, I couldn’t care—I charged to him and spun him so he faced me and though his face was plain and expressionless, I wrapped him into a forceful hug. He placed his hands on my back and gave a gentle squeeze; when I pulled from him, my hands on his shoulders, I saw he held Sibylle’s hat in his left hand, pinched by the brim; he’d already tugged her holster belt around his hips—he could have it all. I shook while holding him then let go to wipe my face.
“You’re alive,” I nodded.
He nodded without speaking then looked at the hat in his hand and placed it on his head and firmly pressed it down.
“Billy! Hell, you’re alive!”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward for a moment then he nodded again. “Yeah.” His eyes curiously searched our surroundings like he meant to take each detail in forever.
I slapped him on the shoulder and almost squealed. “Goddammit.” I wiped my eyes again and could do little to keep the excitement from exploding from me. “Oh, we should go. We should go on and get somewhere safe.”
He nodded toward the horizon, “’Lanta?”
“Sure.”
We packed and it was a like an ethereal phantom remained among us beside the quiet dead; turkey vultures cawed to break the silence, pecked where they pleased on the bodies, and I couldn’t want to fight them. I kept sidelong eyes on Billy with the ever-present worry that he’d vanish. Perhaps he was the phantom.
From the rear of the caleche, I removed a few sentimental books Jackson liked, essential cookware, and sparse rations for the trek. The last thing I grabbed was my shotgun and a bit of ammo.
As we set from the dead place, the terrible silhouettes that were cut from there on the horizon behind us grew in my mind with every backward glance—I wanted to fall to pieces, but I saw Billy walk alongside me and although contented is not the right word, it is the nearest. The steps of our boots were all that was heard because I could not fathom to pierce the space between us with words for fear that it would all end. It was a dream, surely. I’d lost my mind. With my hands thumbed into the straps of my pack, I saw I my hands still shook, and they would shake a lot longer—years and with memories too. The crunch of earth underfoot became a rhythm and instead of looking at my brother, I watched his shadow on the ground.
“Everyone’s dead?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I repeated.
“How ain’t I? How ain’t you?”
To say that it was luck would’ve been too morbid. Instead of saying anything, I shrugged, kicked a loose stone, watched my feet some more, and felt a queasiness come over me. For the moment, the immeasurable deaths of those I’d left behind were forgotten in the company of my brother and a sickness welled up inside of me so suddenly that I felt that I’d fall to pieces at the slightest provocation. Finally, I did speak again, but only after steeling myself to the troubles, “Yeah, how are you alive?”
Billy shrugged at me then stumbled up a hill which overlooked trash wood wilderness where sticks lay twisted and bare and further on the sight of Atlanta was visible and I cupped a hand across my brow and Billy did the same and we looked on at the shadows of the place out there where strings of smoke rose from the skyline as a signature for the desolation of the city; it was dead. I felt it in my bones.
My hands were light while my head was heavy, my throat was dry, and the entire world seized in moments of stillness or perhaps it was my own vision which construed the world in that way; I took to the small hill which Billy had climbed and sat there and stared at the place between my feet to steady myself.
“Fire,” said Billy.
I nodded and nearly choked.
Leviathan—till then I had no belief in dragons—glided over the broken city, its winged shadow little seen but its voice was deep across the scene, letting go of roars which shook the ground. We hid among the trash wood and moved down the hill and watched the creature thrash in the air as if it was angry for its abominable life. Whatever millennia it spent in the pits of hell seemingly thrust upon it a love of destruction and pain.
My brother moved with a more assured stride and kept a cool distance and upon fleeing from the wreckage, from the outlying area of Atlanta and the place we’d left our family, he spoke little and watched me strangely whenever I took to melancholic fatiguing. We lit no fires for fear of what it could draw from the night so in the dark I’d see him watching some far-off place, maybe seeing through the reality which surrounded us, and he’d snap from it, catch my eye, and disappear for minutes to scan the perimeter of whatever place we stayed. Being alongside my resurrected brother was lonelier than I could bear, and I hoped he’d disappear for good or that I could work up the courage to end my own life. It was like purgatory explained in books and for a time, it felt endless; upon witnessing the destruction of Atlanta, we pushed to Marrietta, and it was much the same. As was Chatanooga, Nashville, Knoxville, Louisville, Charlotte. The ocean had risen so that Fayetville was gone underwater, and the Florida leg disappeared completely as far as I’m aware. I understood later that Memphis was overlooked and more places further west were alive too, but when we’d exhausted the south, we moved north and found strongholds of families or traders or even small groupings of civilization, but by and large we found nothing much in the two years that we hoofed it from place to place; it was my doing mostly—I wanted to find a place untouched by the mayhem in the area my family had once patrolled.
In retrospect, I am certain that Billy only stayed by my side for convenience; there wasn’t any of my brother left in the man that was my travelling companion for that time. He was a ghost of a person and Mephisto had preyed upon my desire in the worst moment of weakness in my life. There were nights—maybe we’d taken up in a natural alcove for shelter or we’d locked ourselves in some ancient structure for sleep—I’d watch Billy lay where he was, Sibylle’s hat and holster lying beside him, and I’d think of putting him down but he’d stir and in a brief shadow I’d see my brother as he’d been and withdraw to bury my face in fake sleep to be met with images of the night the demons attacked where I’d shake, sweat, and bite my lips so hard I’d drink blood.
Two years we marched around the Appalachians and in that time, I felt myself wither and disconnect.
Upon moving further north we met Indianapolis—that’s what it was called back then—and it was run by an older woman called Lady Lazarus; I reckon her father, affluent and dead, was a fan of Plath. Indianapolis was fortified more than most with its high walls, and its wall men, and its underground facilities which produced substantial ammunition. We—me and Billy’s revenant—were travelling with a group of traders we’d taken up with from out west; they called themselves wizards and although they seemed of the occult, their spirits discounted whatever suspicions I might’ve had of them.
I remember first pushing through that big gate; the town kept with it an indisputable malaise and though we were greeted at the gate by the leader Lady Lazarus—her brothers came along with her—and her jovial demeanor carried a certain infectious quality, I could not help but notice that the regular denizens maintained a healthy distance from their leader (the guards which followed the Lady everywhere probably had something to do with this).
Lady Lazarus touched each of our hands in greeting with enthusiasm and I could not help but notice how soft they were, how vibrant her eyes were, how much she smiled, and how beautiful she was given her age; already her head was fully gray.
Upon meeting each of us, going through the wizard traders first, she came to me, and Billy and she shook my hand then pivoted to Billy.
“Welcome. You can call me Lady.”
Billy caught her hand in his, held it longer than she’d intended so that they held eye contact, and he smiled broadly, tipped the cowboy hat on his head back to expose his smooth forehead and said, “And you can call me Maron, mam. You are quite a sight for a tired man.”
Though Maron—as he’d named himself—was more boy than man, Lady took a disturbed liking to him immediately and we prolonged our stay in Indianapolis after the wizards departed to head west.
Under the rule of Lady, Indianapolis was a theocracy, with her addressing the huddled masses at the steps of her grand abode, she’d preach for hours on sin and strife and quote her favorite passages; though reminiscent of my time with the Rednecks, I never found any truth or sincerity or freedom in her teaching—hers was more trouble, brimstone, fire and I’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Public execution was common. As was torture.
Maron distanced himself further from me, but I remained to keep an eye on him—it was not sentimentality but rather I existed without purpose and conjured some from watching my brother.
Often, Lady invited Maron to her private rooms and though the rumors and speculation ran the full spectrum of perverse speculation, every denizen feigned ignorance at her pregnancy.
Upon giving birth, the infant was malformed with two heads—her brothers took this as an omen and killed the child, put their leader in the stocks for months, and stripped her of dignity while the denizens did to her what they pleased.
Maron rose through the wall men while Lady’s brothers assumed control of Indianapolis and called themselves Bosses; in the time since Lady’s reign, the place was renamed to Golgotha for its closeness to a messiah.
I went west but always found myself drawn back to Golgotha because of some emptiness in me. It was only with Suzanne that I wanted something more and knowing them, I almost believed in a world like the one that children dream about. The world that Gemma and Andrew chased after when they left home, like the one Aggie talked about in her mother’s books. There’s a hopelessness in me that I’ll never be rid of. In the interim between our initial arrival to Golgotha and that flight from that terrible city, I cannot know how many people I sacrificed in convening with demons because I refuse to know because the number would destroy me. That is the worst of it; I do not even have courage enough to face myself or the actions of my past in any substantive way.
Mephisto tainted me so that I could speak with his kind as a dealmaker and the disease grew.
Billy or Maron or whatever he is should have been reaped long ago or better, I should never have brought that abomination alive. Such a cruel world where a deep longing like that can be inverted, weaponized. Me and him should both die; me and him should have died a long time ago.
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I gave birth to twins via c section at 34 weeks due to severe preeclampsia 6 weeks ago. I was having relentless restless legs for MONTHS, absolute torture, back pain, peeing every 1.5 hours, reflux, pelvic pain, difficulty breathing, snoring with apnea that would wake me up, difficulty walking- you name it I was having it. I was so exhausted, but since I had been off work and doing not a whole lot except for resting and nesting and it was something that worsened over time, I didn’t really notice quite how horrible I felt until these cute lil parasites were removed.
C section recovery hasn’t been that bad, I’m only 7 pounds heavier than when I got pregnant in the first place so my baggier clothes fit fine. I can go on longer walks again, my abs are destroyed but it’s not like they were great in the first place. I’m tired from having newborns but at least when someone else watches the babies I can actually sleep without restless legs, apnea, peeing, etc.
I had actually been losing hair being pregnant- in clumps. Now I’m barely shedding at all. These babies were literally sucking the life out of me. I can’t believe how much more myself I feel now.

Beth:
William was exhausted from the long drive, so he went right to sleep, leaving me alone and horny. I went down to our little office and browsed the web. Quickly I found the now free video clip, titled, “Goofy gets Gelded.”
It was the video that William and Monica made of Charlie being castrated. I popped my legs up on the desk and began pleasing myself as I watched. I guess it was a bit surreal, here was Charlie just a few hundred feet away as I viewed his life changing moment caught on camera.
From a very overweight Monica riding Charlie’s face with her hairy vagina, to the moment she climbed off of the table, took hold of his balls so William could begin performing the unthinkable.
Poor Charlie, he was strapped down as William gently and with the precision of an experienced surgeon took a small scalpel, and cut away, ignoring Charlie’s screams and of course blood. I orgasmed, it was gross, it was cruel, it was unnecessary but as Paris Hilton liked to say, “it was hot!”
I can’t say I was still turned on watching William and Monica fuck shortly after Charlie was stitched up. However, I will say, when William made Charlie, worship his bare feet, that I found satisfying.
Still wide awake, I decided to pay Charlie a visit in the barn. Inside the filthy stall, there he was sound asleep, covered in an old horse blanket. I was hoping he’d be awake so we could talk, but he wasn’t, so instead I pulled up a chair and watched him.
What a piece of useless shit. To allow everything that’s happened in his life to happen. Hell, coming here with us, the woman who dragged him down to nothing and her lover, the man who mutilated him for life. What a complete loser. I knew then, life here for him would have to be unpleasant. He needed it and I wanted it.
I left Charlie alone and returned to my computer. I looked up Monica on Facebook. She was easy enough to find despite changing her name. She was also half her old size and very pretty. Her husband was attractive too. They seemed to travel quite a bit and she loved sexy clothes.
“Still a whore!” I said out loud to myself.
I replayed the video and had another orgasm but this time I focused just on William. He was masked so I studied his blue eyes as he focused on the job. I imagined a beautiful but wicked smile as he cut, as he destroyed another man. Soon after, I tucked myself in next to my beautiful man, and fell happily asleep.
Charlie:
I awoke, cold and tired, nothing new but I was safe for the moment, alone in a barn. It was still dark as I slowly stood and started to stretch, my morning ritual. I noticed a chair outside the stall, I knew it hadn’t been there when I fell asleep. Had someone been there? Was it Beth?
I watched the sun rise, it was a new day and hopefully a new beginning. I wasn’t sure what it would bring and of course I was frightened, I always was, but I was with Beth again. That’s all that mattered. That’s all that ever mattered. I stroked myself until hard, of course I could not cum but still I thought of my darling woman. She had come to rescue me. I was grateful.
This was her farm, her property and I too hoped I was also. To be owned again by Beth, to me that was heaven. Even if it meant having to put up with that evil, demented William. I could handle him. I knew I had no choice.

I’m so tired of men and their stupid comments about my body.
A guy I dated once told me “I can’t tell if you’re skinny or fat”. I’m curvy but size 0-2. I just have big boobs and butt. If this is fat then I don’t even know what to think???
I’ve had a few guys tell me that my boobs aren’t that big. I’m a 34DD. Maybe they’re not huge in the grand scheme of things but for my frame they’re big. Anything I wear looks slutty and I have to size up to fit them into things. I’ve seriously considered a breast reduction because so many clothes don’t look good on me.
A few times I’ve been asked why my hips “go in and then out” aka hip dips. Because it’s freaking normal??
An ex pointed out the very faint stretch marks on my calves and sarcastically said “nice stretch marks” and I’d literally never even noticed them. This guy’s back was COVERED in big deep red stretch marks, and you’re criticizing my calves?
The last guy I dated said he’s never dated a girl with body hair. He said this because I was using an IPL to laser off my body hair. I’m literally as close to hairless as someone could possibly be, my legs grow like 5 hairs a month, and he was shaming me for having to use the IPL to remove my hair?? Do you think your exes are just naturally hairless???? And this guy dated mostly Indian women. I guarantee they didn’t have hair because they did something about it like I do. And I don’t want to get rid of my forearm hair, wtf is with men and hating on arm hair?? I have the tools to remove this hair if I want to, I don’t want to, so stfu?? I have never suggested to a guy that he shave his arm hair or any other hair on his body, I don’t get why they feel entitled to comment on mine.
I’m just so tired of the negative comments about my body.

I am 5 foot 8 ish or so and grow quite often and weigh 150 lbs last i checked but that is likely more now and i am looking for a ebike to get, I don't have any safely infrastructured way too school without taking a ridiculous route, the two roads i would be on(the trip take like 5-10 mins by car cuz low traffic when i leave rn) have speed limits of around 45mph other then when kids are present in the school zones then it is 25 mph, so with my needs for the bike it must be a bit more of an upright through leg bike with a rach o n the back to put a pannier. now for wants, adjustable speed up to like 15-20mph pedal assist ofc i have legs and ideally has smoothish tires like not smooth smooth but not off roading tires, the terrain is relatively flat with only a few hills so no need for an overkill amount of power. ideally this is like less than 1500 dollars

-31yo female -5'2 -55kg ( 120 pounds if my conversation is correct) -Smoker (10 per day) - nil alcohol (drank maybe 3 times my whole life hated it) - nil illegal drugs (smoked weed 2 times when I was a teen, also hated it)
Medications- nexium (for heartburn) telfast (allergy meds) Diclofenac (for dysmenorrhea) Panadol.
Medical history of multiple ovarian torsions and cysts on ovaries. Had about 12 surgeries all up 4 being for ovarian torsions. Very mild endometriosis, last surgery was mid last year for a cyst removal and to remove as they said "extensive++++" adhesions. Congenital unicornuate uterus, with right kidney absent Mild s curve scoliosis. Severe GERD Small sliding hiatal hernia.
............................... I went to my GP to get my usual heartburn tablets that I have been on for 20 years.i saw a different doctor as mine was away and he suggested I see a gastroenterologist due to the amount of nexium I have to take for relief and the extent of time I have taken it, I was happy to do.
He did blood work so he could send it with me for my appointment. However when I went back to get them he said my platelet count was high 700k Looking back on my blood work it hasn't been within normal range for quite some time (typically only slightly over and sat around 500k for 5 years, prior to those 5 years it was normal, 2022 it was 503k, 2023 it was 560k and now it's 700k) however all other markers were fine, no abnormalities in wbc or inflammation. My ggt and creatanin were slightly off but that's been fairly normal for me, I assume that's due to having 1 kidney.
I will add he also did an ecg and found I have long qt. Just putting this in here idk if it's relevant.
I did look at symptoms of high platelets and the symptoms makes sense I get incredibly fatigued, like I don't feel tired mentally but my body feels tired and drained. I get excessive itchiness, mostly in my legs however and hot showers make it worse. I stopped having baths because that was worse than showers and would itch for hours after . I bruse really easily, constantly find bruises on my body and have no idea how I got them.
I get blurry double vision and have for years. However I didn't think it was na eye issue because sometimes my vision is perfect yet sometimes it's bad enough that I won't drive.
I constantly get headaches. Tingling/numbness (mostly in my feet but sometimes in my hands.
I also read about bone pain which could explain the leg pain I get which sometimes starts from my waist down. The only way I use to be able to explain it was it was just like growing pains just so much more intense and it was just like a deep rooted pain.
What are the suggestions.
If it's reactive would platelets stay high for this long? And with no other issues like white cell count or inflammation issues. I also don't have anemia ( I did when I was pregnant 8 years ago and prior to becoming pregnant, I had an iron transfusion when I was pregnant) but everything there has been normal since.
Sorry for the long read and thank you in advance for any advice given.

_ _ _ _ _
Impact and introduction
_ _ _ _ _
His first thoughts about his little predicament were that it was nothing like the anime he’d watched.
Finding yourself suddenly free falling from hundreds of thousands of feet in the sky was significantly more terrifying than it had seemed while cozied up in his bed, wrapped up in three-plus blankets and contently slurping his microwave ramen.
That said, he felt justified in screaming like a little girl. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!” What was happening? Where was he? He had just stepped out of his house for a ramen run at the nearest gas station, and now this was happening. Great, just great, now he wasn’t going to be able to watch anymore anime- he stopped suddenly. “Oh, of course,” he muttered to himself, “That’s what’s going on here.” He was suddenly as stoic as a knight in shining armor as he plummeted through the sky, and he pushed the slightly problematic matter of falling out of his mind and focused on what would be important: His story. First: his name was Caen Eloso. He came from a strange other world with wondrous technology that left nothing to the imagination. Caen was what was in his third year at his school, Hansen Academy High School in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where teenagers his age were taught arithmetic, science and language punctuation before they went off into the world on their own. Colorado was one of fifty individually operating states in his home country called America, which was home to more than three hundred million people and overseen by a President.. America was located on one of 7 continents in his world, called Earth. There were a great many other countries besides America, of which he knew varying amounts about their cultures that he could give little tidbits of information about, but he figured he knew the most about Japan. Japan was basically heaven. The Japanese people were responsible for creating the best possible thing that his world had to offer, a wondrous thing called anime. He had dedicated his life to exploring every nook and cranny that was connected to the world of anime, and there was nothing that brought him more happiness than binging.
However, he figured he oughta remember some cooler stuff about Earth (he couldn’t really expect many people to weeb out with his stories without watching anime in person) if he ever found himself in a tight spot and needed to, say, entertain a dragon or something. Because…
He was ninety-nine percent sure that he had just been isekai’d.

That’s why, while plummeting to what seemed to be his inevitable doom, he kept a level head. Ignoring the previous screaming-like-a-five-year-old fit. Because, of course, anyone that was summoned to another world via falling from the sky always survived; it was kind of a given, otherwise the story wouldn’t get anywhere, duh. Whether it be due to some miraculous vitality, impossible superpowers, a one-time “safe-landing” provided by the dude that summoned them, or (and what he personally was hoping for) a rescue from some either super-shy or super-pissy elf hottie in possession of a huge rack… of swords, you pervert, that dressed in some skimpy armor (that really would do nothing to protect the vital organs, from a defensive standpoint) and who would kick off the protagonist’s harem.
When he actually gave it thought, he realized he wasn’t really all that interested in a harem, and kinda found the thought of one IRL gross. Like, did he even have to explain? But he knew that if he’d said that in an online chat with one of his internet buddies, they would definitely try to overrun his laptop with viruses. In what was now his previous life, he had had little to no experience with talking to girls, let alone “getting some action”. He really hadn’t seen the point, considering how difficult 3D girls were to handle. That said, he never really got into the hardcore otaku-type 2D obsession stuff, like buying lewd figurines and pasting posters all over your room and buying body pillows of your favorite waifu. He was just a hardcore watcher, and that kind of made-up for his lack of other tendencies. He would frequently spend 12+ hours a day shacked up in his room in 6 hour sessions of binging anime at 1.5 times speed; (he wanted to get in as much watching as possible) and that was only on weekdays. Yeah. With school. (Needless to say his grades weren’t exactly top notch) But weekends were another story, with him usually staying up till four in the morning on Friday night and then sleeping until twelve, when he would wake up and choose whether or not to eat before watching until he was told to get off, and then stuffing his fat face in the kitchen to his heart’s content. The point was, he had originally decided he didn’t want to “waste time” on a girlfriend. (Not that he was exactly confident he would be on anyone's radar if he were to try)
Anyways, more and more, (before he found himself falling from the sky of his new world) Caen had found himself feeling lonelier and more depressed as time went by, and so, he decided that in his new life he was going to quit his otaku and introvert tendencies and find the love of his life in what was to be his new world. Quite the goal.
With his mind made up, (this was some relatively quick thinking given the situation; he’d been falling for about four and a half minutes before coming upon this decision and entirely giving up on his old world and everything he had loved in it) (Besides his love of anime) he realized something… interesting. He hadn’t noticed it due to being lost in thought and not being capable of feeling it (probably his magical protection or something that came with being summoned), but he was currently a ball of flame. If he had been wearing clothes earlier during his fall, and he hadn’t actually bothered to check because of his little fit, they were long since burnt to a crisp. Even though he was certain he had a grasp on the situation, he couldn’t stop himself from freaking out just a little bit, especially as he felt himself growing closer and closer to the ground. ‘Alright, you can rescue me now,’ he muttered to himself, though his words were lost to the wind. His eyes widened. He realized he was too fast, far too fast. This entry was apparently going to be very flashy, which he wasn’t against, but… He could hardly gauge distance before he had halved it. Twenty thousand feet, ten thousand feet, five thousand, he broke through low hanging cloud cover, two thousand.. He shut his eyes as tight as he could and pulled his limbs in tight while covering his ears to brace himself and-
Boom.
_ _ _ _ _
Learning to walk and not-squirrels
_ _ _ _ _
The sound of impact deafens him. He instantaneously loses awareness of anything else besides the sound, but somehow remains conscious, unaware of if he had completely shattered into a million billion pieces or not. For time out of mind he couldn’t move any part of himself. His ears ring and his head throbbed something awful. He could not conceive what would make him capable of surviving a fall like that. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he opened an eye to gauge his surroundings…
He was in a crater. Caen had expected as much, but his jaw literally dropped in surprise, something he thought no one actually did. It was at least eight hundred feet from edge-to-edge and four hundred feet deep, the ground smoldering, red-hot and smoky, but surprisingly only warm where he lay (thank you, summoners). He must’ve stayed stagnant longer than he thought for it to have cooled enough to touch. He slowly pushed himself into a seated position, sitting on his right leg and letting his left arm rest on his left leg, which he had bent at the knee. He once again surveyed his crater by twisting his head around.
Quite the entrance. “I guess this fits into the one-time no fall damage category…” he muttered to himself, running his hand through his hair, making note that it was surprisingly silky. “Cause there’s no way this is a vitality thing, right? Way too overpowered.” For a minute he sat like that, until he realized that something was tugging on the back of his mind. At first he ignored it like he would a buzzing insect, but it kept poking at his subconscious. And then he was hit with it with as much force as when his sister sent him to Jupiter for accidentally breaking her new phone; that wasn’t his voice. ‘Huh?’ Neither was that. His eyes darted to the sides of his vision where it gently rested on the sides of his face. His hair. It was much, much longer than it was in his old world, reaching as far as to hang below his pecs. It was shiny and straight, and didn’t look like it had ever been cut. But that didn’t startle him as much as its color did.
Caen thought back to the fairy tales and stuff of his childhood, and about how they tended to over exaggerate the features of their characters and the objects in them so that the average kid could understand it better, with phrases like “as beautiful as a freshly-picked flower”, “as strong as a bull”, “as bright as the sun itself”, and “as white as snow”. Well, now he wasn’t so assuming that those were mere stories and not just incredible experiences from the writers, because he was witnessing something impossibly… beautiful. Because his hair was white. A stark white, with an almost silvery sheen to it. Like when you wake up the morning after a snowstorm and open your window to see if school is canceled, and the snow blinds you when you look at it because it's reflecting the morning sun. Beautiful. He quite literally couldn’t think of another word for it. Slowly, he reached up to touch it again, once again feeling the impossibly smooth sensation. It glided over his fingers like water. And then he saw the fingers of his hand. Long and slender, perfect and unblemished. He was dumbfounded. ‘Are these really… mine?’ he asked quietly with his new voice. ‘A new body was always possible, I suppose, but I thought if that were to happen I would first have to be reincarnated and grow up with it myself. Did this body… come into existence just for me when I got here? I would hate it if I kicked out someone's soul so mine could stay here or whatever.’ He stood shakily. He was tall. Taller than in his other life, where he’d stood at around five-ten, Caen figured he was now around six-two. And, what he found almost as shocking as his hair, was that he was fit. Or perhaps thin would be a better word, something he had never been before. His stomach felt strange to him as it no longer bulged, and when on a whim he attempted the stretches he wasn’t close to being capable of before, he did so with ease. He could reach his feet when he sat and stretched out his legs, and he could even easily touch his toes. He was in the middle of attempting to put his foot behind his head when he realized he should probably get a move on and get out of there. He guessed that he most likely looked like a meteor for any settlement within a few hundred miles of his crash site. He quickly tapped his foot on a particularly smoldery-looking piece of earth to test if he could withstand the heat like before. He once again found it to be only pleasantly warm. With that reassurance in mind, he decided to get himself out of the crater. That was, before he realized he’d need to learn to walk again. He fell hard and broke his fall with his arms. His muscles felt unused and unfamiliar, though the movement of his arms came more naturally than the rest. At first, his legs were very wobbly and his knees shook and moved sharply if he strained them too much or too little, causing them to buckle and him to fall and roll back down to the center of the crater when he tried to walk out. It didn’t help that it was a pretty consistently steep climb to the edge. He must have been at it for at least an hour. But the distance was good practice for him, and with a lot of rolling in the scorched earth he finally managed to get himself to the edge. The adjustment period wasn’t that awful, considering, and he felt he should be kind of proud for learning so quickly. (At least that's how he thought of it) He stood up on the rim of the crater to see exactly where he was. A pretty considerable distance away he could see trees ringing the crater site, and he decided that he had landed in a forest. The further away from the edge the less burnt and bent the trees were, from the shockwave that came with the force of the impact, he decided. He sat down, leaned back and let his feet rest on the decline of the crater. It was incredible. It felt like he’d just woken up after twelve hours of sleep, and his mind was buzzing with activity like he hadn’t experienced before. Everything was so fresh. He didn’t feel tired or winded at all, and he saw everything in vivid detail, even though all there was to see was the smoldering earth and the forest in the distance. He even tried breathing in deep with his nose, but all he got was burnt dirt and he started coughing from the smokiness of it. Despite this, he smiled. He hadn’t felt like this in ages, a thought he had believed was reserved for seventy-year-olds after getting their backs adjusted by a chiropractor. He jumped up, deciding that the first thing he should do would be to find a settlement of some sort, or at least a stream so that he could drink some water. He wasn’t particularly thirsty, but the thought of a cool liquid down his throat made him shiver. He also wanted to eat something, and decided to keep an eye out for nuts or berries in the forest that looked innocent enough. And so he started his trek. Soon he was walking on long, springy grass and gazing at all kinds of fauna that was surprisingly familiar. He couldn’t really see a difference in the trees or bushes at first, but when he plucked a leaf from the low hanging branch of a tree that looked like the one in his backyard, he saw that the pattern of the veins was definitely different, if not by much. He could at least tell that, since he had played under that tree when he was little. He also saw a lot of strange forest critters, and his heightened senses picked up on their presences like a radar. Soon there were dozens of them watching him from the trees, giving him a wide berth but for some reason following, so he still caught a few glances. Most had bushy tails and large ears with short whiskers on their little snouts, and tiny little heads that looked like those of baby foxes. The overwhelming majority were a sandy brown, but a few times he also saw one that looked blue and one that looked red, and even one that was pink, but these were always directly in the shadows of the trees and bushes and would dart away as soon as he tried for a closer look. A different species that looked like a miniature boar no larger than a bowling ball, complete with tusks, a stubby tail and hooves, trotted directly trotted directly through his path with its head held high in what looked like a show of contempt before disappearing into a bush. It was totally adorable and he regretted not trying to pick it up before it had disappeared. He winced internally as he thought of how many of these balls of fluff were incinerated in his landing. Slowly, as he trekked on, the creatures became more and more daring, darting past him and soon getting in his full view shamelessly, but they didn’t seem to have any ill intent, so he really didn’t mind. At least, they didn’t look predatory. (though he inwardly didn’t trust that idea from his knowledge of anime) Suddenly, one that was much larger than the others, probably the pack leader, scurried directly in front of him and stood on its short hind legs, its arms drawn together. It was similar to the way squirrels “stood”. Caen paused mid-step. It had some sort of presence, and its pose seemed to indicate that it wanted him to sit down so they could have a conversation. Unlike the other not-squirrels, (as he decided to temporarily call them) this one’s coat looked much fluffier and was a rich, chocolate brown, and its ears had white tufts at the ends. Its tail twitched and he also noticed that towards the tip of it the hair was also white. It gave off some sort of aura. Caen crouched. ‘Hey there, little guy. What can I do for you?’ He asked in the same voice he would use for a cute dog or other friendly animal. It tilted its head and he had to stop himself from launching at it in a surprise hug attack. It stared at him for a little longer. Then, out of nowhere, it beckoned to him with a little arm, turned, and started running off. For a second, Caen stayed crouched, dumbfounded at what he’d just witnessed, until dozens of the hiding squirrels started running in the same direction as the big one. He shook it off and decided this was supposed to be his first big event in his story, and so he started sprinting after it, because these little guys were speedy. He ran for more than ten minutes, almost losing track of the pack until he caught glimpses of a bushy tail or fluffy ears that kept him on their trail. Since his endurance was off the charts now, he actually enjoyed the chase, and took the opportunity to breathe in the rich forest aroma as he ran. Soon, he broke out into a small clearing, where he saw the leader “standing” beside the mouth of a cave. The once again shy not-squirrels all hid in the trees and bushes that surrounded the clearing, and all he could see were their cute little button eyes glimmering in the leaves. There must have been hundreds of them. He hesitatingly walked over to the giant not-squirrel (because that was what it was in comparison) and crouched down again. ‘Do you want me to go inside there?’ He asked, pointing at the cave, and turning his gaze to the eyes of the creature. It stared at him uncomprehendingly, its black eyes giving no indication of some great intelligence that secretly lurked. He sighed. ‘Might as well,’ he muttered, walking over the cave entrance. It was as dark as one would imagine, but there appeared to be a faint candle light of sorts dancing on the walls around a bend about a hundred feet in. It also smelled heavily like some sort of crushed herb he was unfamiliar with. It almost overshadowed the rancid smell of rotting flesh. He narrowed his eyes at the giant not-squirrel and the rest of the pack hiding in the bushes before walking in. There was definitely something alive in here, and from the smell, it or they were dying.
_ _ _ _ _
Elf hotties and magic
_ _ _ _ _
The further into the cave he went, the more overwhelming the stench of death became. Caen gave himself a second to regain his composure, then covered his nose as he turned the bend. His eyes widened in shock. A pretty girl with silver hair and sharply tipped ears lay upon a bed of leaves, naked save several fern leaves that provided her the barest of modesty. Her form was softly illuminated by several low burning candles that framed her. A singular giant fern rested on her stomach, covering where James guessed the mortal wound was inflicted. Her eyes were closed and she breathed shallowly, and sweat was beaded all over her body. The different colored not-squirrels he had seen earlier were all gathered there, watching her intently, but quickly turned their heads as they heard his bare feet shuffling on the stone floor. All three of them were there, the red, blue, and pink furred not-squirrels, as well as a green one that he hadn’t seen before. They stared at him for several seconds before all but the green not-squirrels scurried behind him. The green one leaned its head down and seemed to whisper something in the ear of the elf. Caen’s world slowed. Her eyes crept open, a rich, deep purple that seemed to shimmer with silver dust like stars. She ever so slightly turned her head to look at the not-squirrel questioningly, and then her gaze drifted to Caen. As their eyes met, he felt a shiver and a volt of electricity passed invisibly between them through their gaze. Her eyes widened with what looked like disbelief, and she smiled at him ever so softly. Caen felt entranced. There was something special about this girl, something so very special, and he felt a stirring in his chest that made his stomach twinge, but not unpleasantly. She beckoned to him with a finger and he slowly approached her and knelt. Those few steps, with her eyes fixated on his, and his on hers, felt like eternity, and he couldn’t break the gaze if he wanted. ‘Greetings, White One.’ She said softly, still not breaking eye contact. Her voice sounded as though it were made to sing. ‘I apologize… I… was meant to be there to greet you upon your arrival. The best I could manage was providing you a safe entrance from the heavens.’ She said sadly, and a tear welled up in the corner of her eye. He hesitatingly reached out a hand and cupped her face, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. She shouldn’t cry. He knew that, somehow, that it was wrong, that she shouldn’t ever have to experience sadness like that. She breathed in sharply at his touch, and then her gaze softened. ‘Who… are you?’ He asked quietly. She smiled sadly and tears flowed freely on the back of his hand. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t have the leisure to cry with you. I am glad that my friends were able to escort you here and provide you with safe company, for the forest is a very dangerous place, but… more than that, I am glad that I was able to see you… at… least once…’
Her eyes drifted closed. He quickly grabbed her arm and was hugely relieved to find a pulse, ever so faint.
She is so close to death, White One.
She has been holding out so that she could meet you, White One.
She has been waiting so very long for you, White One.
She spent what little mana she had left providing you safe entry into our world, White one.
These sweet-sounding voices echoed in his mind, though all of melancholy tone. He slowly stood and turned to face the not-squirrels.
Please save our Silver Lady, White One.
This voice was deep and strained with pain and suffering. In front of him stood the pack leader. He sat just in front of the other four not-squirrels, all mimicking his position. All Caen could do was nod, even though he was dazed and had no idea how he would be able to help her at all. ‘Show me the wound.’ he declared in a voice that sounded much more confident than he felt.
The four different colored not-squirrels glanced at the leader, and, the words still echoing inside of Caen’s mind like before, he said, ‘Do as the White One proclaims.’ They unhesitatingly scurried to their “Silver Lady” and carefully removed the large fern. Caen did not react how he thought he would. He saw it and his body shook, but not with disgust, or surprise, or horror, but with rage. He clenched his fists and the muscles in his arms grew taut as his fingernails dug into his palms. Her stomach had been ferociously torn open, revealing a sight that was best kept undescribed. His voice shook with power as he spat, “Who… Who did this… to her?”
His head snapped to the not-squirrel leader, his wild, hateful eyes boring into the creature. “We do not know, White One,

Yesterday I came out as femboy to my girlfriend. She accepted me warm heartedly. We didn’t talk yesterday because we were tired . But as soon as I got home today after work she demanded me to try on every single piece of apparel I had. I was nervous to talk to her still. But when she asked for a fashion hall, it made me so happy. It was fun I showed her all my tops and skirts, and leggings. She even helped me find more crop tops online. I can’t wait for her to do my makeup 💄. 🥰

For context I'm pretty new and at the end of each training we have like 10-15 mins of sparring, most of the time it's light and I have a lot of trouble even tagging my partners.
So I know I need to work on my defense and all that, and I'm new so it's not uncommon for me to not be able to do too much, and as coach says "It will come with experience".
But the problem is I feel like I'm not getting enough practice/experience because all I'm really doing in those sparring rounds is just getting hit and occasionally getting a shot or two in (and honestly it feels like they're just letting the newbie hit them once or twice out of pity lol) so I'm not really learning anything other than how to be a GOAT punching bag. I should probably also mention we're mostly doing light sparring so the shots don't really hurt but it feels wrong for me to just ignore the shots and throw my own back while eating them because some of those shots aren't strikes that should be able to be walked through (ie hooks/crosses/leg kicks).
For example, in one of the rounds 2 weeks ago, I would get basically bum rushed by my partner and she kinda runs in and starts just whacking me all over the place, granted the technique wasn't great or anything (I know I'm not one to talk) but I found myself extremely hard pressed to come up with an answer against somebody who bum rushes me. Also everyone's sparring at the same time so moving around too much isn't exactly a possible solution. The only thing I could do was when she started coming forward I would throw a leg kick but that didn't really seem to stop her so perhaps a teep instead of a leg kick would have worked?
Then just yesterday I tried to get in myself against my partner but he kept tagging me every time I went to jab him which was really no good, the only time I hit him was when we were much closer in range and honestly I think he just let me hit him because he felt bad lmao.
I'm assuming I was mad telegraphing my shots since he was able to hit/kick me without getting hit by my jab that often, and I think he noticed that as well because he told me maybe I should try bouncing around like a karateka would, which worked for a while, I was getting hit less and it felt comfortable using that method... Until I realized that shit gets tiring really quickly and I found it extremely hard to check kicks while bouncing around.
So I'm assuming the "It comes with experience" is under the assumption that you have the critical thinking skills to assess what went wrong/right in past sessions and keeping beneficial tips and discarding of ones that don't work, however I feel like I lack the skills or knowledge really to know what the hell I'm doing wrong and more importantly what I can do to fix it, so is there anything I should really keep in mind next time?

Pa. Car Accident
Ok, so my fiance was driving my mother's car. On this particular day it was raining heavily and had been the day before, so the ground was saturated and roads were wet/ flooded. My mother's car was a 2012 Rouge that had something mechanicaly/ electronically wrong with it and had no AWD (ABS, AWD, Traction Control lights were lit on dash) along with the rear tires were racing slicks and had absolutely no tread. So my mother asked fiance to take the Rouge and pick up her grandson up from school in a text message, which is saved. So my fiance did, while in route she came up on a bad turn that always has runoff rushing across the road. Well my fiance ended up losing controll and wrecked the vehicle to the point of it being totaled. My fiance was life-flighted, which got canceled due to weather conditions so ambulance rushed her to hospital. Turns out she couldn't feel her legs and couldn't walk, had a compression fracture on T11 and T12 vertebrae. Been wearing a brace for 2 weeks now, she's in tremendous pain and can barely walk, certainty can't walk/ get out of bed without assistance. The way things looks she is likely going to need back surgery, according to the spinal surgeon at UPMC Presby.
So after all this, my mother is demanding she ( we ) pay her for the vehicle so she can get a new one. Ok, fair enough. Well my mother is growing impatient, been 3 weeks since accident. I told my mother since I'm the only one working now, in it's going to take time to come up with around $2,000 to pay her back. She then proceeded to threaten to turn my fiancee in to magistrate if not compensated for her car. I'm in total shock, I get my mother lost a vehicle but my fiancee (been together 10 yrs) literally broke her back doing my mother a favor, and my mother let her take the car with tires that had literally no treads.
So what's y'all's opinion?

Something is wrong with me but doctors cannot find out what it is. It starts out as double vision, I get dizzy, I lose my balance. I feel like I have to fight for control over my own arm or leg. Loss of motor functions Sometimes walking is hard. tingles in my arms and legs and butt.
it's not diabetes, nothing found with a CT scan, bloodwork is all normal, nothing found with an eye exam. I was recovering from the flu when this all started. I had a total hysterectomy last year to prevent the spread of endometrial cancer, and one ovary was left in to hold off menopause.
I don’t know how to communicate what’s happening effectively to anyone. People at work don’t get that it’s not just my double vision.
I don't know what else to do to find out what is wrong with me and the waiting for more tests is excruciating. Any possible insight or things to try to help alleviate symptoms would be great. I wear an over-glasses eyepatch on my left eye while at work, but even working is starting to be too much and I've since cut down to 5 hour days for the foreseeable future. the eyepatch helps with the double vision but the other symptoms make it tiring and embarrassing to be in public.
Any insight at all is all I'm looking for.

For some context just started 10mg of lexapro last night for anxiety. I have recently not been feeling well and because of the strange sensations/symptoms (I believe it’s covid, my parents both got covid and tested positive twice each and I got sick a few days later although I tested negative twice) from covid I have been anxious something is wrong, thus my heightened anxiety. Doctor proscribed me the dose and I took my first tablet last night. A few hours later I woke up with burning/tingling in arms and legs and this continued throughout the night and into the morning, it’s 1pm the next day and I still feel a bit achy. Is it my lexapro or me being sick? (I have been achy but the last few days I was fine). If it is lexapro will it stop if I continue and should I continue?

As the title states - my husband does absolutely NOTHING around the house/with our son. He does work and provides for us 8-9 hours a day while I’m a SAHM but after that he does absolutely nothing.
I can’t even remember the last time he’s done anything around the house. He doesn’t clean, he doesn’t cook, he doesn’t clean up dinner, bath time bedtime… NOTHING.
I’ve asked again and again and again and all i get is “I worked all day I’m tired” as if I didn’t?? He constantly tells me when I complain that he would “quit his job tomorrow to sit home with the baby all day” like I do.
I’m running on fumes.. our son is 7 months old - & extremely colicky. He cries pretty much 97% of the time he’s awake. Everyday I wear him in the body carrier (screaming and all) and clean the entire house, do all the laundry, grocery shopping, cook dinner every night, clean up dinner, bath time , bedtime all by myself.
I found myself looking forward and counting down days until my next doctor appointment because that’s the only time i actually get an hour or two break while I drop our son off at my in-laws.
My final straw was tonight as I was cleaning up dinner and doing the dishes.. husband sitting in his usual spot on the couch. our son had a meltdown (it was his bedtime). While wearing him in the carrier and doing the dishes, I accidentally burnt his leg by bending over too far on the stove. It wasn’t a bad burn but he was screaming by this time. After assessing the burn and putting ointment on it. I walked over to my husband and asked him to please go get the baby’s pajamas on so I can get him in bed as soon as I’m done with the dishes .. his reply was “I’m tired I’ve been working all day and I never got him dressed I don’t even know what clothes to put on him - you always do it…” I dropped the dishes and went in the other room and broke down. I cannot keep doing this anymore. This will be the reason I file for divorce. I love my son more than anything but I’ve never been more unhappy.