Hi, I know this is mostly for couple relationships. But I don't know where else to post this. I can't post in aith as mostly foreigners are there
I'm 29M. I have some trouble in my family would be a major understatement. The situation is so worse that I can't explain to anyone in my real life. Situation became so dire, I left my house and staying away and my parents calling me failure and abandoner. Its a toxic household. My brother hits my parents and I end up leaving the house while my parents defend him.
3 weeks back my brother hit my father, my father started crying profusely and started to scream and saying he'll call police. I asked my brother to leave. He does but comes back and starts acting lunatically, saying he's ready to go to Jail and loose his job but he'll expose my father for what he is. They had an argument coz he's not marrying and he has a girlfriend from work living not less 200 m away in a separate society. Which has come to our house and met my parents as well. My father had a agreement with him to get married by March this year. But such a manipulator and liar he is that was another one of his delaying tactics. Or maybe he said one two many lies and this caught up to him. When my father out of anger said to him to leave the house, he shamelessly said he won't he also contributed to it. The reason behind his fearlessness was my mother as she supported it. She actually supported him hitting him and later tried to justified by saying it was a minor hit and it didn't break his bone or something.
My brother has a history, he broke my mother's hand when I was in school and he was in college first year. He wanted to stay in hostel and my parents didn't let him. I come back from tuition and witness that. Looking back at it, this fueled his shamelessness and fearlessness as all the relatives knew this and it didn't bother him later on.
My family quite disfunctional since very beginning. We have lived in major cities for most part, my father was working in government service and got transferred a lot. My elder brother (4 years elder) and I work both in metro city and lived with my family here. Father retired last year. Mother a housewife.
Now here's the issue part. My father has been a wifebeater and sole earner. Him and my mother had issues since beginning. And they generally didn't have any understanding is what I saw. Trust was less as well. Mother used to bitch about him which my elder brother took quite well and to certain extent me too, but I started to see through it few times and ramblings of a frustrated woman as my father used to like being reveled by relatives so she feared him being more involved there.
One other side of this also the relationship of my mother and elder brother, they both grew some sort of symbiotic relationship where they each were masking each other's shortcomings by excuses and became each other's support system.
So that was in past then as we grew up our father also matured a bit in past few years but not a lot.
Now, so far it seems like every other family's trouble. Here's the main issue, I started observing certain things since past few years which made me really irked and start to distrust my family.
I don't trust my elder brother since few years 6-7 to be precise. And he has a history of beating me as well. Something in him makes me tick. Like he's trying to treat us like he treats outsiders, for profit of his own. I don't consider him my elder brother either. While my parents always try to shame me by saying I hit him as he is my elder brother, while they themselves flaunt society's rules as they like.
Last few years, I saw some issues with myself and loneliness, one time parents asked me and my brother to come to my father's posted place as he was getting retired and help shift. When I reached I'm told they have planned(my brother and them) a trip and invited me. I hadn't taken any leaves and this was extreme short notice so I couldn't get leaves. They just thought it would be very easy for me to get it. Like I was really pissed. I stayed there alone for 1 week while taking care of their stuff.
When they came back I broke down, and cried and told about my struggles with depression, my mother at that time cried. I suggested them to start searching for a bride for me. Before all this, some stuff was already happening with regards to my brother's marriage since that past year and I wasn't on speaking terms with my brother. But I saw them berating him by saying if he doesn't get married, it will be issue for me. So I tried to calm them separately by telling them to start searching for me if he's not cooperating. Mind you I was settled financially and of age, only thing stopping them was my brother was unmarried then. I thought I had managed to make a breakthrough, and could get some support with my issues but no.
My brother had a girlfriend whom I had met and had visited my house met my parents. She ditched him for reasons only he knows and from then onwards I only saw his hippocrit facade like the way he manipulated lied to my parents about meeting with prospects and finding excuses to not get married. He wasn't interested, just kept delaying and this kept frustrating my parents. He also blamed his failed relationship on my father as he said something angrily along the lines of him hitting his girlfriend when he was angry as he witnessed his father do that all his life.
This caused fights too, sometime I got involved as well. Like he threw food plate at my mother and I intervened. I had to say some harsh stuff and fight ensued. Physical too. This has been an recurring phenomenon.
My parents are no saint either. My father last year beat my mother at age of 60 no less. Like I said very disfunctional family.
After my heart to heart with my parents, they completely forgot about it. They say they didn't but they did. They never mentioned one girl, didn't even make JS/Shaadi profile for me. Look the issue is not that marriage was biggest priority for me. But that it wasn't even a priority for them when I specifically said about it.
Now another tragedy happened. I got laid off. I didn't utter a word. Then in between 6 months later from that talk they stuck me with the most shameless question ever asked by them. They tell me they had it enough with my brother's bullshit and wanted to search for me. I was almost about to lose it. But at that point I was at very low coz of my job situation and was seriously doubting my luck. Still am. Been doubting since Covid. I made up some excuse to make them lose interest in it.
Then some months later in another fight I brought it up and gave them an earful.
During all this I tried leaving my house twice for good. One time I actually rented a place. One time I gave an ultimatum that he leaves or I leave but my parents somehow convinced me to stay. Toxicity was through the roof. Parents fighting often, quite on the edge of physicality, my mother doesn't hold bapck a bit if we are around. My father is I feel is semi bipolar always on ego trip. And my brother a lying manipulator angling for his gains.
This time I couldn't hold back and decided to leavd I won't come back at all. I offered to take my father too. I declared my mother's case hopeless as the way she behaved after my brother hit my father and proudly berated him shamelessly like she felt someone took revenge of all those years of beatings and shame she got. While I held my head in shame by looking at what was unfolding. I couldn't hold back and abused them for their behavior. These shameless people started coming at me.
I was irked at the fact that my brother had his girlfriend living in the neighborhood and she used to come and visit and my folks weren't least bit bothered as they thought these guys were getting married. When in fact my folks had not even talked with her parents. Only with her elder sister who was doing a love marriage inter caste after threatening to take poison. So my mother was like believe in love an all that crap and talk about social and family values too. I am not conservative I met his first girlfriend before anyone else in family. But this was too much, if you are such big into love and family values and keeping appearance in society then marry and end it. Apparently the girl wanted to marry only after elder sister marries, so society rules exist for her but not for my family.
All this combined I stated my discomfort shared an ultimatum that he should leave and stay separately till his matter is resolved. My mother and brother came at me. They called me failure and said I was jealous of him cause of my failures to secure a person in my life. So I realised my mother was with him
I know this is too much but coz of this I left and this time I thought I was leaving with my father's blessings, but I was wrong that was just momentary coz of his anger after getting beaten by my brother.
I have been living away now for few weeks just few km away. So that I can go back if required but now the tune of my parents have changed completely. They are calling me deserter coz I left house. How can I live in that toxic family household ? And a lot of other things, as I can't help but scream at their shamelessness.
I wish old age days come back coz then you could call few relatives to sort things out. Or atleast discuss who's wrong, here they justify their doings as everyone is doing it in society, everyone fights, everyone's a little shameless so its fine. While I can't just become ostrich and deal with things when it strictly affects me. My brother's actions deeply affected me. I was depressed and had to deal with it alone, coz my parents were too busy with his bullshit and then I saw their real self. Lots of stuff I haven't mentioned here. Like how my own father defended him getting beaten as his own fruits of his deeds to defend my brother. That broke the straw for me and made me realise he was the favorite son for both of them. No amount of his shameful deeds can change it. And they will bend backwards to justify it.
Worst part is which I can't shake off, I called them selfish, shameless, mental and stupid fools who got cheated by their own son. They are equating it with my brother's beatings. Saying I'm equally as deplorable as him, as its equal as beating. In which world ?
Am I the asshole ? Should I continue on my path. Discussions and talks with my parents result in screamings as I need a neutral party as they changed the rules of civil society to fit their narrative as society has changed so its fine as everyone does it. I told them if they can find even one person their age group who thinks I'm wrong I'll come back and apologise. They told me they have no interest in getting laughed at and this happens everywhere. And I am equally guilty for abusing them. I can't take it any more. Is staying in family means becoming like then ? Is that the rule ?
My family is saying to come back and stay there and my brother will leave after getting married, saying I'm equally guilty in this as I also said harsh stuff. How is happening in this shitty world ?
TLDR: Left toxic family where brother hits father. Has history of hitting me and mother too. Parents fight too physically and defend him and his actions. And asking me to stay in that environment.

Bear with me as I describe what amounts to an almost religious experience after finishing the game for the first time. SPOILERS and nigh-rambling. But I just have to share. I hope you'll stay a while a listen. :)
I tried playing Cyberpunk a couple months ago. Corpo Male, strong roleplaying. When the Johnny Silverhand stuff started, I got really frustrated and quit. I didn't like how the game saw fit to ramrod me into this extremely narrow story when I thought the experience was going to be more open than that. I wanted to play a character who tried to rise to the top of Night City's corporate world through double-dealing and backstabbery...and now all the sudden my character is dying and has this voice in his head.
I was not going to be able to tell the story I wanted to tell.
It was that ludonarrative dissonance thing, like in the Witcher 3, I always struggled to justify doing too many side missions, given that Geralt (as I was playing him) was very concerned about finding Ciri, so there just didn't seem to be time to get embroiled in all these other adventures.
But then I saw this randomly come across my YouTube feed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0gR_C0Pd1k&ab_channel=JekavacTV
Dude. I don't care how linear your story is...that's incredible. And dark.
I've been on hard times lately. While I was never serious about unaliving myself, it was a thought that bounced around in my head here and there at my lowest moments...and this clip just...it hit me. I always believed that self-deletion was deeply wrong, if only because of the harm it did to others who loved you. Whatever was on the table, that solution could never be entertained seriously. I just couldn't do it to my loved ones.
But I've also been struggling with who I am, who I'm supposed to be, what my purpose is. LOL big club I know.
But that video convinced me to give 2077 another try. If an ending could be that hardcore and meaningful...there must be something worthwhile in this game. So I rolled a Nomad Male, and began my love affair with this game. I didn't try to concoct a character so much as just try to play V as myself. I really related to his leaving the Bakkers, and going it alone. Also I moved around a lot as a kid, and my Dad was a hippie biker in his heyday, and a mechanic. So it felt true to form.
And then when you meet Jackie...I mean c'mon, who's more loveable than Jackie?
I really started to get into the game then. And it finally started to dawn on me what the game's story is trying to communicate.
I figured 2077 would devolve into a lot of cynicism, and exploit the violence and sex for cheap thrills. Or maybe it would lean on shock value and become doomeblackpill fodder. But CDPR ain't no slouches. Night City is an exaggerated snapshot of where we are now. And V's predicament is one many of us are facing: we want to make our mark on the world, but is it worth it to step on everyone along the way? Even if we're trying not to die? Or worse, just be erased. Many of us struggle with a voice in our head telling us we're fuckups. We're pussies. We're slaves. We're not worth the trouble.
At first I took Silverhand for an antagonist, essentially. A nasty SOB I had to keep at bay, given that my V was a mostly good guy who just wanted a family again. Especially after Jackie died...man his wake, and helping Misty sort through his things? That got to me.
And of course there's that lingering fear that, no matter how much Silverhand may begin to charm you or appear like he's on your side - he's going to take over. V is actually warned that eventually, Silverhand will just make a play to do just that.
So I was careful with him, but I wanted to know more, because he was such an intriguing character, and its easily one of Reeves' best performances. Period. So I invested in his conversations and eventually his sidequests. I also did what I could to help others in Night City who helped me. I was dying, so...it felt like a good time to be generous. Even if sometimes I had to off a bunch of gangoons with a shotgun. XD
Then as the story developed, I began to see that Silverhand wasn't quite the legend everyone thought. He was a man who had sorely, sorely screwed his life up - as well as the lives of many others. He even seemed to regret it.
I even told Silverhand I'd take a bullet for him, after receiving his dog tags. I never expected that kind of a scene between those two.
It became clear that Silverhand was a ghost, stuck between life and death, looking for absolution, trying to do something right for once. And V could help. So I did. We found Alt Cunningham. We took Rogue on a date. We got Samurai together for one last gig. We tried to track Adam Smasher down. I was putting trust in Johnny, and it was clear that he wasn't really wanting to kill V after all. But he had no choice.
I also met Panam, fell in love, and became a de-facto Aldecaldo. Was never sure about Saul, but Mitch and the others were just salt of the earth man. Great little storyline.
I helped Judy, all the way until she finally left Night City, and was glad of it. I do wish she was romanceable by dudes, but...she was still just too precious, I couldn't turn a blind eye to her problems, or her kindness. Her little story with the underwater town was so moving and unique...I just wanted to give that girl a hug man. What a sweetheart.
Then it all came to a head. V is on his last leg. That fateful scene where you make your big choice. Silverhand pushing me to just take the orange pill and let him do his thing, since he's almost in control anyway. Or I could testify against Yorinobu, and put my trust in Arasaka. OR, I could call on my new family in Panam and the Aldecaldos, but put them at risk.
This entire game I felt like every choice was vital. I felt like one slip up and I could mess up my chances of living, or even worse, do wrong by the people I cared about, just like Jackie. But I stuck to my guns, helped who I could...
Which is why I chose to lean on the Aldecaldos for help. Yes, I was putting them at risk. But even though I was beginning to trust Johnny, this wasn't his fight anymore. Much as Johnny might have a shot, I couldn't just give up now. And I certainly wasn't going to trust anyone at Arasaka.
The raid on Arasaka HQ with the clan was rough. Felt like all my choices had led here, and I worried that CDPR was going to punish me for my past choices, given that Night City takes no prisoners and few get out alive. I also knew that Adam Smasher was bound to appear. And having seen Edgerunners...I knew that wasn't going to be pretty. I saw how Johnny's story ended, for example.
There were rumblings about Saul and Panam still being at odds, and I figured the game was priming me for a betrayal or a horrific upset somehow. But I forged ahead anyway, because I was with my family. I didn't want power. I didn't even want to be a legend. I just wanted to live.
I watched Adam Smasher kill Saul horrifically, heard Panam scream in horror...and I zeroed that MFer. XD
Protip: even on Hard Diff, if you have the right perks and implants, you can be virtually unkillable. Only died once. Not sure if that's impressive, but it felt impressive. XD
My V wasn't sophisticated, but he was tough as nails and determined. I wasn't about to let everyone's sacrifice be in vain. Not Saul's. Not Jackie's. Not Goro's. Not Johnny's.
I informed Smasher of Johnny's resurrection just before blowing his brains out with Johnny's own signature gun. Even though Johnny was subdued by the bluepill, it felt like my last gift to him...even as I was moments from death.
Then the moment of truth...Mikoshi. I asked Panam for parting advice. She said "Just be yourself." Normally I'd roll my eyes at that advice but, something about it felt prophetic.
The final choice. Alt had used Soulkiller on me, in order to save me, but now it seemed I wasn't going to get my happy ending. I could go with her beyond the Blackwall, and finally let Johnny have my body - or I could return, but only have about six months, since the Relic had just caused too much damage.
It wasn't that hard of a choice. Leave everything and everyone I had grown to love behind for some bizarre virtual afterlife? Or let Johnny finally rest, and let V return to the world, Panam and the Aldecaldos? I chose life. As Johnny laid me down in the 'well', gently, he said "Goodbye V." And it felt like two friends parting ways. It felt like he'd made a change, and I helped him get there.
And boy was I rewarded. Even though I didn't have long, I had a chance to start again, and maybe even find another way to live. I had Panam, I had the Caldos, and I could finally leave Night City in the dust. "I have everything I need", V said.
This game absolutely SLAPS with hard choices. Over and over and over, you're reminded about how unfair the world is. But if you keep your head on, and ignore the power plays, stay true to your friends, and don't take no shit - you can get out alive. And not just you. The ones you love can too.
Of course, many of you already know all of this. So why did I bother posting?
All my life I've felt like maybe I've been too nice, or too careful, or too unwilling to take life by the balls. But one thing I've always been good at is helping people in need when I can, and always being available to my friends. But for some reason I always looked down on myself for it. I never felt like I was worth anything. I never felt like I was making a difference in the world. There were so many hard choices, and I felt like I never made the right ones. And that I'd just die one day, and be forgotten. Never having made my mark. Just like so many in Night City...
Some days I'd think "Maybe it'd just be better if I was never born." Because I was such a fuckup. A loser. A nobody.
But the person who helps people, who's there for others even when its inconvenient? That's the kind of person who can make a REAL difference. Fuck money. Fuck politics. Fuck fame. None of its worth a damn if you aren't doing right by others.
And that really came through in the end credits. I'm not ashamed to say I was in tears as all these people from my playthrough reminded me how much I meant to them. How much they cared, and that I mattered. All these people had happy endings because of me. I never let them down, not even when the grim reaper himself was breathing down my neck.
It was like all my IRL friends and family were speaking to me in those moments. And finally, FINALLY, I could see myself as they saw me: a man who cared and was trying to be there for them. A man that made a difference in their lives.
Yeah I didn't save the world, per se. But, really, that's how we save the world for real, lame as it may sound. The sheer contrast between the ending I had earned by just trying to do right by all the people in V's life, and that horrific ending I posted earlier was...stark. If you give up, then everyone suffers, not just you.
This game saw me, and reminded me who I was. It rewarded me for it, and I'll never forget it. For all its flaws, all its quirks and failings, I adored this game and all the effort that went into it. It's clear CDPR were trying to say something with this work of art, and boy was the message received on my end.
I can safely say I'm less likely to despair now because of it. I feel more alive because of it. I feel more prepared for the real world because of it. And I wanted to share my experience, if only to remind one person that:
We can all make a difference. Live for others, not yourself. It pays off. Even if it doesn't seem like it at the time. It's the only legacy worth leaving in this fallen world.

I had an emergency phone call with my neuro earlier after my LP 2 days ago(OP 26 so borderline), I have been experiencing a pressure feeling in my eyes and the top of my head making me feel like I was going to fall/pass out and bad pain between my shoulder blades and spine. She said this is a low pressure headache and I am likely leaking a small amount. I’m taking ibuprofen and paracetamol with caffeine in it, I’ve also increased water and salt intake and lying down as much as possible, I’d been doing most of this already with no change. Blood patch won’t be considered until day 5 and even then it’ll likely be a bit before I’d have it done which I understand.
Our call was short, so I’m hoping you guys might have some other ideas about how to somewhat easy the symptoms? Or even letting me know things I shouldn’t do/avoid?
After the LP the doctor said they hadn’t gotten as much fluid as they wanted to, I wonder if this possible lack has contributed?
Thanks!

10yr old male neutered Siamese, indoor only, UK. History of chronic constipation, pancreatitis, and uti. Recently in hospital for jaundice (only symptom was slight yellow at temples and ears but he seemed his usual self otherwise) and discovered through blood tests, ultrasound & CT scan- liver bile ducts are enlarged, gallbladder has sludge, mild pancreatitis?, and urinalysis showed some crystals, kidneys on ct scan show signs of early/mild CKD.
Currently on antibiotics and a liver support tablet. Lactulose daily for constipation management. Ultrasound next week on liver to check bile duct. Then may be prescribed medication to get bile flowing.
He is bright, talkative, grooming himself, jumping and climbing his trees and scratch posts, using his litter box well, passing stool daily, eating and drinking on his own.
Food history- He was on senior wet pate food with added water, that I would mash into a custard consistency which works for managing his constipation and bladder issue. Last UTI was over 2 yrs ago.
Now that he has multiple organ involvement and there are so many prescription diet foods for specific diseases, I’m confused as to what is best for his conditions.
Currently trying his usual wet food and introducing dry Hills Liver support and even with small amount he vomited all the kibble. I have wet Dechra Specific Senior (gastrointestinal, kidney support) arriving tomorrow to try.
I know the kidneys need to be low in certain things and yet the liver needs certain ingredients for support. Do these foods contradict each other?
After researching so many brands and diets it’s overwhelming. Our current vet has just said to try to introduce the liver support kibble again but I’m nervous since he vomited it yesterday.
Is there a support food that can do it all? Support the liver, kidneys and constipation? If not, which food should take priority? Liver or kidney?
Thank you for reading. Any advice is appreciated greatly.

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New to Neville's teachings? Start here!

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Frequently Asked Questions

Can I manifest xyz?

Yes, anything is possible.

How do I manifest xyz?

All manifestations use the same technique(s). To get good simply takes practice and imagination.
Neville's Basic Manifestation Techniques:

• The Neville Goddard Method
• Revision: The Complete Guide

What scene should I choose?

Any scene which you believe you would encounter after your wish is fulfilled.

What should I start reading?

We recommend The Law and The Promise or The Power of Awareness first for beginners. This is because Neville includes several examples and success stories from students, in addition to being lighter on Bible references, which can be off-putting or confusing to beginners.
If you want a physical copy of his books, publishers continue publishing new copies of Neville's works. Please check your library, locally owned book store, or search online for Neville's works. If you purchase a new physical copy, we recommend The Power of Imagination: The Neville Goddard Treasury, as it contains all of Neville's books in one volume.
All of Neville’s books and lectures are in the public domain and can be searched online for free, and are included in the Wiki and Sidebar links mentioned previously.

What is an SP?

Specific Person. Usually in reference to a person’s romantic interest or crush. The term was popularized by so-called, self-professed online manifestation coaches and "experts". /NevilleGoddardSP is a dedicated, expert subreddit for that.

What is a Mental Diet?

Avoiding negative conversation and media, paying attention to positive conversation and media.

What is SATS?

State Akin To Sleep (SATS) refers to the deep state of consciousness during meditation or just before falling asleep. In SATS, the body is relaxed, but control over the mind is retained. It is used to create vivid visualizations in imagination for the purposes of manifesting.

After you have decided on the action which implies that your desire has been realized, then sit in your nice comfortable chair or lie flat on your back, close your eyes for the simple reason it helps to induce this state that borders on sleep. The minute you feel this lovely drowsy state, or the feeling of gathered togetherness, wherein you feel- I could move if I wanted to, but I do not want to, I could open my eyes if I wanted to, but I do not want to. When you get that feeling you can be quite sure that you are in the perfect state to pray successfully.
Neville Goddard, 1948 Lecture Series, Lesson 4

What is the Lullaby Method?

In SATS, instead of visualizing, repeat an affirmation to oneself again and again, building the feeling of it being true.

What is Revision?

Revision is revising in imagination events that have happened in the past as a way of mitigating their effects in the future.
See also: Revision: The Complete Guide

What is Door Slamming/You are in Barbados/Living in the End/State of the Wish Fulfilled?

Closing your mind to any other possibility besides your outcome. Assuming your desire is true and not questioning it.

Do we have Free Will?

Yes, and no. It’s complicated. See here.

What is "Everyone is You Pushed Out" (EIYPO)?

On a practical level, what you believe is what you get. The world only shows you your own beliefs. On a metaphysical level, we are all the same God interacting with Itself through an infinite number of different points.

The whole vast world is no more than man's imagining pushed out. I must qualify that by saying that the world outside of man is dead, but Man is a living soul, and it responds to man, yet man is sound asleep and does not know it. The Lord God placed man in a profound sleep, and as he sleeps the world responds as in a dream, for Man does not know he is asleep, and then he moves from a state of sleep where he is only a living soul to an awakened state where he is a life-giving Spirit. And now he can himself create, for everything is responding to an activity in man which is Imagination. "The eternal body of man is all imagination; that is God himself." (Blake)
Neville Goddard, The Law lecture

What if everything is going wrong? What if I am manifesting the opposite of my desire?

Failure is generally due to a lack of consistent faith or belief in the outcome, not feeling as though it had already happened. However, if the one has consistently been loyal to their faith, then we are reminded that all manifestations have their appointed hour (Hab 2:3). Neville writes about the causes of failure here.

What about (my sick mom, my crazy grandpa, the homeless, starving children, etc.)?

In Neville's view, there is one being that is God (who is pure imagination), and has split Itself into infinite smaller forms to undergo a series of good/bad experiences across lifetimes until these smaller pieces realize they are God and reintegrate. The less fortunate are to be helped, not looked down upon, but understanding it is necessary for God to realize Itself (to experience bad and good).

What happens after I die? What is The Promise?

Neville’s prophetic vision of an individual’s reintegration with God.

Can I manifest multiple things at once?

Yes. Here is Neville's answer regarding how to manifest multiple things from Lessons Q&A:

\5. Question: Is it possible to imagine several things at the same time, or should I confine my imagining to one desire?
Answer: Personally I like to confine my imaginal act to a single thought, but that does not mean I will stop there. During the course of a day I may imagine many things, but instead of imagining lots of small things, I would suggest that you imagine something so big it includes all the little things. Instead of imagining wealth, health and friends, imagine being ecstatic. You could not be ecstatic and be in pain. You could not be ecstatic and be threatened with a dispossession notice. You could not be ecstatic if you were not enjoying a full measure of friendship and love.
What would the feeling be like were you ecstatic without knowing what had happened to produce your ecstasy? Reduce the idea of ecstasy to the single sensation, "Isn't it wonderful!" Do not allow the conscious, reasoning mind to ask why, because if it does it will start to look for visible causes, and then the sensation will be lost. Rather, repeat over and over again, "Isn't it wonderful!" Suspend judgment as to what is wonderful. Catch the one sensation of the wonder of it all and things will happen to bear witness to the truth of this sensation. And I promise you, it will include all the little things.

What if I have another question?

Please use Reddit's search feature or post it here in the Q&A thread.

I've been having problems with this since last year. I injured my back in 2017 and though it was kinda bad then I was still pretty much okay. I went through PT and was fine. Then slowly, over time, I was unable to work anymore. I mean I couldn't even stand for a basic cashier job. I was able to work a small part time catering job a few days a week. Then Covid hit and I lost that job. I haven't been able to work any job since covid but the pain was mostly tolerable. I could still go out, drive, be social, etc. Then September of last year everything suddenly went to hell.
The pain has been really bad since then. I mean, so bad. I went to the ER thinking it had to be a kidney stone with how it radiated into my side and back but they said it wasn't. It took 6 months of begging several specialists to do an MRI (because I was told repeatedly that I was just being dramatic and needed to see a counselor) and an MRI would be "useless". When I got that they could see that I had herniated discs (L4 and L5). I was then told, and I'm not joking, "This injury isn't bad enough for you to be feeling the pain you claim you are in". I was sent back to PT for the 6th time which didn't do anything.
I've been to pain management and I've tried a bunch of their treatments. A bunch of medications. Stuff I personally think is BS like acupuncture, aromatherapy, diet change, wholistic medicine crap. I've tried ice, heat, and posture changes. I've tried stretches and massage. I've tried literally everything and I keep trying it because it's what they say to do. The only thing that ever has given me noticeable relief from my symptoms is percocet which, of course, they refuse to give me. They keep telling me that it "won't work" (because I guess they know somehow) and that it's not "treating the problem it's only masking the pain".
Well, as I've been explaining I have been "treating the problem". I've been doing the exercises and everything they've told me to do. I've been doing the meditation and the posture stuff and the diet changes. I've been doing the aroma therapy. I've been doing the "breathing exercises". I've done support groups. I'm in therapy. For the record I don't even like narcotics. I don't like what they do to my stomach but they are the one thing that gives me some level of relief from this pain. Not completely but enough hat it's not me laying in bed feeling like I'm going insane because I don't want to move.
I can't sleep like this, it makes me nauseous almost constantly. I'm supposed to be seeing three more specialists but not until June. The ER is getting sick of me because I'm sure they think I'm just making this up to get drugs and get high. I wouldn't even *want* those drugs if literally anything else was working or I was being taken seriously. I want to sleep right now but I can't because of the pain. No position I get in helps it. No amount of ice or heat does anything. No massaging or stretches. It's just like this all the time now. I know when I see these specialists they aren't going to do anything because I've been down this road before and I don't think I can take much more of this. Doing everything I'm being told to do and it not making one ounce of difference. The one thing that does give me a brief rest from this pain I can't have because well we all know the reasons.
Is there anything that I can do about this or is my situation completely hopeless?

Final Fantasy is one of the biggest(if not the biggest) RPG franchises out there. As an anthology series, the games each hold a different world, every single numbered installment, as well as a different story. The patterns that connect the stories are there in order to keep a Final Fantasy game a Final Fantasy game. They’ve been able to make these games feel consistent in their approach for about 10 installments, with the titles after 10 being more on the subversion side. Now that Final Fantasy 7 is getting a remake “trilogy”, this subversion has become a complete deconstruction of what made the series well loved. The new people in charge of the IP seemed to have lost the magic, resulting in the series becoming a hollow husk of its former self.
With so many RPG Maker people wanting to recapture the magic, as well as Square Enix itself, this brings up the question: what exactly is a Final Fantasy plot?
In the 80s, Final Fantasy was conceived as a response to TTRPG games like Dungeon and Dragons and computer RPG games like Wizardry, with Dragon’s Quest being an influence and sharing the same influences itself. These fantasy game influences created a lot of the gameplay, with the story coming from what came prior in the form of Tolkienesque stories. To further the chain of influence, these Tolkienesque stories were inspired by Arthurian romance and mythology, holding a big focus on how alchemy approached the combination of mythologies to express a monomyth. Carl Jung helped popularize the monomyth, along with Joseph Campbell, which would later establish the media usage of the hero’s journey. When Lord of the Rings came out, the prevention of the world ending by the usage of a MacGuffin became a staple in heroic fantasy storytelling.
Final Fantasy began with nameless characters of unknown origins, having you play as the 4 warriors of light. 4 warriors were picked to represent the 4 elements, the 4 corners of the world, with 4 monsters of the elements acting as their main form of opposition as they head to the final boss. Fire, water, air, and earth were treated as vulnerable crystals that must be restored, bringing order back to a chaotic world, with the final boss being Chaos itself, to end the game with a peaceful kingdom. Rather than a single ring to rule them all, the MacGuffins in FF1 are instead key items, each one unlocking a new location to move the story forward. The world map is entirely used, from land to sea to air, forcing a journey process across different areas as these heroes attempt to fix the world.
The gameplay focuses on classes, with each class serving a different party purpose, forcing the player to pick different types for easier results. Each class was given a different outfit, easy to tell the difference between their roles, with each one symbolically having a different personality. It’s not that they had a personality in the game where they never speak, but rather the roles they hold grant them different paths on how they got there. For example, the fighter would have to become physically stronger and knighted to become a knight, while the thief would have to sneak around and learn black magic to become a ninja. In fact, having more thieves in your team was a way to make the game harder, because of their lower HP.
This combination of classes and a quest to save the world changed upon the second installment, where characters were finally given names and backstories. Due to this held history, their hometown was presented as the catalyst for the story to begin, being saved by a princess this time as they start a rebellion against an evil Emperor. Sounds familiar? This is where Star Wars comes in more full, acting as an inspiration for the science fantasy elements that come in during the later half of this game and the first one. The final location of a floating island could be considered part of Star War’s Cloud City, but it can also be tied to the more Japanese inspiration of Castle in the Sky.
Studio Ghibli, the “Japanese Disney”, came out with this movie a year prior to Final Fantasy 1’s release. In this movie, steampunk retrofuturism was inspired by science romanticism books of the 1800s, while its castle in the sky was inspired by the floating island in the satirical novel Gulliver's Travels (1726). All of these are still directly inspired by both the hero’s journey of alchemical study (through Star Wars) and mythological journeys(with floating islands being found in Homer’s Odyssey). The steampunk style continued into later titles, allowing the usage of swords with the combination of robots to make sense to the player. This also reinforces a romantic approach to storytelling, as Arthurian romance and scientific romance are combined into a mythological premise concerning the end of the world and heroes who go out to save it with MacGuffins.
Two creatures that would play important roles for the heroes were both made by the same designer: Koichi Ishii. The Chocobo would be used as a giant bird that you ride like a horse, while the Moogle was meant to be a spiritual assistant that has a pom-pom growing out of its head, symbolically declaring itself as your personal cheerleader. The cat-like body of the Moogle, as well as its infinite source of magical assistance, could easily be traced back to the 60s blue cat named Doraemon. While the cute Moogle was based on a culturally significant source (as well as the kami of Japanese folklore), the chocobo turned itself into one by becoming a cute form of transportation, both allowing the game to become more appealing to kids and animal lovers. These additions allowed the traveling merchants of the game, as well as the trusty galliform, to serve more of a story purpose when their significant locations are visited.
By the time we hit Final Fantasy 6, the classes are changed from choosing outfits to become character locked. At this point, the characters themselves are the class, with more classes collected as more characters are collected along the way. Their backstories come with their discovery, allowing their hometowns to become different locations across the map, and their relationships growing into pre-game histories and future romances. The summoner, a special type of mage, is treated as the most important type of character, due to their control of creatures that are based on our polytheistic gods and some mythological characters. Their role is to serve as a humorous deus ex machina, a reference to how plays would use a god of mythology to interfere with a story and set things right when the writer usually wrote themselves into a corner.
The roles of characters each become a repetition of this setup from 6, causing several key plot points to occur. The main “leader” is a young male who holds a bladed weapon, in the form of a sword or dagger. This is the “Luke Skywalker” of the group who is aided by an older magician or mentor who shows him the ropes. Along the way, they find a “princess” with access to ancient powers who is able to lead them to the MacGuffin that will save the world. From the beginning, they are opposed by a “black knight” who is the shadow of the leader, with an emperor antagonist that is overshadowed by this black knight, leading to the final showdown that is fought in several stages.
Three stages are utilized to represent the destruction of the antagonist’s body, mind, and spirit. Their presence throughout the story is in the form of stages, acting as spiritual checkpoints for the heroic leader to confront their shadow. Once the evil “emperor” is defeated, the shadow's presence brings in the apocalypse that threatens the world, as well as their symbolic four horsemen. Across the journey of the main party, they unlock the 4 forms of transportation: earth(main map), water(boat), air (airship), and fire (combustion vehicle/chocobo). Each quest unlocks the next quest with the next ability to access it, whether it’s a key item or a form of this transportation.
Each game comes with about 10 hours of storylines, making up about a fifth of total gameplay for an average playthrough. This sounds like a lot, but when split up by the 5 point story structure, this gives about 2 hours per point. When we realize there are an average of 70 locations per game, we can feel overwhelmed by the amount of locations to visit. Thankfully, only a small handful are actual story locations and the majority are battle locations for gameplay. The trick to figuring out their location planning is all in the types of locations they go through.
Locations are split into two types: 1. Hub 2. Dungeon
Hubs come in: 1. Small merchant 2. Rest stop(usually a save point) 3. Village (people but no shops) 4. Town (people and shops) 5. City (people, shops, side quests) 6. Castle (people, shops, main quests)
The dungeons come in the variety of: 1. Grassy 2. Desert 3. Snowy 4. Mountain 5. underwater 6. Cave 7. Forest 8. Haunted House 9. Laboratory 10. Castle 11. Space/unknown
When we view it in this way, those 70 locations get split into 35 each, with about 4- 5 hubs for each type and 3 - 4 dungeons of each type. With how each game needs a main hub as the kingdom, the emperor’s tower, the shadow’s fortress, a hometown(plus dungeon) for each side character, 3 to 4 main islands, and remakes of locations caused by running themes(like the gardens in 8), the tall order becomes far more shorter than presumed. The gathering of the side characters make up the bulk of act 2, which include: 1. A driver of the airship 2. An unconventional “mancer” 3. A gag character 4. One who betrays the empire (sometimes comes as an NPC or temporary character) 5. Secret characters 6. A tragic character (seeks revenge on the empire) 7. A dragoon (or sniper in the case of FF8
These character types can be combined in any way, but the goal is to include them for a full experience.
As for villains, the typical boss will be based on a particular weakness to a single(or theme based) type of attack. Reoccurring “Team Rocket” style battles will act as another form of story checkpoint, with these goons being a creature like Ultros or a trio like The Turks. In the final dungeon, a boss rush will either summon a lot of previous bosses to take you on at a higher level, or introduce a cast of new bosses that are to be fought at different layers. The defeat of a boss is meant to be the ending of a quest and the expansion into the next quest area until the game is over, with optional bosses causing neither of these(hence the name “optional”). The normal enemies of the area are (supposed) to train the player for the encounter with the boss of that same area.
Final Fantasy followed this simple formula for about 10 installments until the PS2 era started to make it shaky and then Final Fantasy 12 removed the doomsday weapon. 13 removed the male lead and any coherent recollection of a main antagonist. Once we got to 15, the doomsday weapon was back but now the summonings are treated like main characters. The remake of 7 flips everything on its head as it tries to force Midgar to be a world of its own, not realizing that the journey requires the player to leave the castle and get on an airship within the same game. As time goes on, the romanticism of its origins will be lost and it will just be building over itself without understanding where any of the structure comes from, because each installment comes with more deconstruction.
Final Fantasy started as romantic mythology, tied together with the fairy tale magic of Disney and Studio Ghibli. Everything about it is supposed to be cute, aimed at kids, hits hard enough to make an adult cry, and blessed by the presence of consistency. We don’t need the games to be more realistic, we need them to be more enjoyable. But hopefully, with this guide, you will be able to make your own Final Fantasy one day. You will make it better, make it proper, and it will certainly not be the final time we see it.

Hey there! Here is a little intro before going into the full story. My name is Kai, I am a 20 year old male, and Have been working this office job for 2 and a half years. My coworker, let's call her Sunny(27F), has been working the same job the same amount of time.
We got hired on at this job together and from the first few weeks of training I offered to give sunny a ride to work every once and awhile since her place was between the location and mine and she does not drive due to her high anxiety regarding being behind a wheel, and that causing her heart problems.
Sooner rather than later she began to rely on me getting her to work. And at first I didn't mind because of said reasons above. Even after I moved I was still willing to pick her up as we had arranged ways for her to pay for gas and have emergency rides should I not be able to take her.
Then she started asking for rides to other places like doctors, food, even groceries. At first I didn't mind as I have a pretty free schedual.
Things really only started to not sit right when she would constantly get annoyed if I could not take her to these outside-work activities even though she has a husband who could have taken her and other people willing to as well.
As of recently she has been having issues with her husband, which I will not go into severe detail for, that has caused her to believe they might be close to a divorce. Steam rolling from that she has also been on a lot of new medications due to her health problems.
Every day this week as she's gotten into my car all she does is complain about her situation. Which is fair and she has every right to vent. And as a friend I don't mind listening to her and giving advice when appropriate.
What I do mind though is that, the first time, she was yelling the whole time, screaming her problems even when we stopped to get gas for my car. And when I attempted to calm her, she snapped at me. I usually brush things like this off my shoulder but yelling and sharp tones have always been trauma triggers for me to recede into my emotional shell.
Things have steadily gotten worse. When making small talk about workplace drama with her I mentioned something she did not agree with and her response was "I DONT WANT TO AGRUE THIS WITH YOU KAI" Which was a common phrase I heard in my childhood that always translated to "Shut up your opinion doesn't matter!" Etc.
Once again this has triggered my own trauma various times. Over the course of the week I have attempted to communicate with her that I wish to take a step back from her personal problems. This is to shift my focus back to my own mental health and reduce the amount of stress that is severely impacting my work style. (Side note: I'm not meeting quotas because of the emotional stress this is causing me.)
Every time I have interacted with her as of late she's taken her frustrations out on me and hurt me in some way or form. And the worst part about it is that she had texted me and several of our friends on the weekend before saying she was going to "keep her head down so she doesn't accidently hurt any of us with her own issues."
I've talked to several of our fellow coworkers and friends about how I'm feeling and several have expressed that dispite the amount of drama it may cause I have every right to tell her that I need space and she needs to find another ride until she gets her problems sorted and/or apologizes and stops.
While their opinions about this situation matter I would also appreciate if any of you lovely readers have any advice to give. Or even critics if I am being an asshole.
Thank you for your time. -Kai

recently, i had a conversation with my mom detailing what i wanted to be when i was older. ever since i was a child, i loved singing and dancing. not like i was humming in the womb, but singing was a great past time for me.
when i moved to london in 2022, i, according to my mom, fell in love with the idea of becoming a musician. for some reason, my childhood is overly blurry, but she told me back then i wasn't interested, and i was sorta confused because i'm sure i was. she said the idea of becoming a musician and singing and everything was not on my to-do list. it was weird because i don't recall ever telling her a career i wanted to look into back then. i think i assumed she knew i wanted to become a singer, but she didn't know? idk its confusing lol.
so anyways, after that i tried to occasionally sing and practice my voice. note: occasionally. i would, according to my entire family, sing for a few moments and stop singing (MOMENTS??) clear my throat, do that again, get mad and say "I'm never singing again." (which is obviously a lie.) for some reason, i was dead-set that i wanted to become a musician, but i also didn't put in the effort to becoming a singer.
now, even i know this, but i tend to pick-up and drop things easily, so i never really stuck to one thing. the reason is most likely because my parents were movers. even when we lived in dubai, we never stayed in one place. changing schools and houses more times than i can count. i think having this sort of lifestyle of not having to stick to one thing is affecting me as a person also. but thats a story for another day;
my point is that singing is one of the things that i picked up but i can't seem to drop. i think as i kept going and watching these people perform at concerts, work in studios, all of that it makes me want to become a musician even more! i tried my hand in acting at one point but that totally backfired. so its just on singing again. in fact, i tried so many things and i decided i was good at nothing so singing was my only option.
now, don't get me wrong my family is well off, so i can afford school, college, university and the works, but i still feel like i'm not good at anything besides singing. im going to grade 12 next (school) year, so i don't have lots of time to think about this, yet i feel like everything will just work itself out.
now, to my actual question; do i like singing, or do i hate it? and if i hate singing, why do i hate it?
so, my first reason that comes to mind on why i hate singing is my voice. now, i've had no shortage of compliments from my family telling me i'm a great singer. (well, maybe a little shortage. and my dad has never told me i'm a great singer. apparently i've never sung in front of him before.) but, also from strangers. before the winter holidays in 2022, my school held a winter concert and i had a solo in there. my music teacher who's also the choir teacher, gave me the solo, telling me i had a great voice and potential. the day came and i felt i completely blew it, but people were pulling me left, right and center to tell me i had a lovely voice. might've been just curtesy, but it was very sweet of them.
so i have no genuine idea why i hate my voice, but it just feels so flat and bad. i can't hold a note more than 4 seconds, my breath control sucks, i can't mold my voice into something, and my voice is raspy. i could keep going. it doesn't sound like sabrina carpenter, ariana grande, whitney. someone told me it sounded like maria once, but i'm calling bullshit. and most importantly when i sing, my neck hurts or i get a splitting headache.
now, second reason i came up with is that, like my mother said, its a chore. she told me i only sing to practice, i don't sing because i like the melody songs create. i don't sing because i love it. i sing because it feels like it's already a job for me, and as if i'm about to make money from it. i tried to deny this, but i think it's true. when i sing, i don't sing like i'm trying to enjoy the song, i feel like i'm trying to monitor my voice and what it sounds like.
when i practice and i cut myself short, it's not because my voice hurts or i'm tired of singing, it's because i don't like how i sound, which makes me think: am i enjoying the song at all? obviously to get better at singing, i have to practice, its a must. but i don't often sing because i like a song, i sing them as a form of work. now, i thought this would all be easily avoidable if i just went to singing classes, because now i can focus on practicing there and enjoying singing out here. but i've always been of the "if i had this, it would be better" mentality. and in this case, i might even be right! but my mom asked "why would i pay money for something you don't even like", and maybe she's right and it is a waste.
maybe i hate singing because i'm bad at it but i'm starting to feel like this is my only option.
but that was until last year when i fell in love with gaming. game development particularly.
now i've always been a fan of gaming; not like the fortnite, COD, GTA and other games of the sort, but more like resident evil, roblox, the last of us type games, but then i fell even more in love with learning how to make them. now this is a whole big story and another story for another day, but basically, i now feel like game development is something i would be really interested in taking in university. but that didn't make me want to stop singing and trying to make music so... maybe the second point is invalid. but i don't know.
recently, i've been taking more effort to practice my singing and improve my voice. i sing daily now, for a significant amount of time. i've been seeing some progress actually. my sister told me that i've always been improving, but it's not the little improvements i see. its the big one. she's in 6th grade... 😭
anyways, thats all i know about this entire thing. its making me really sad and unhappy writing this entire thing. i thought i had everything figured out about this, but this whole "you hate singing" thing is doing my head in. i just wanna dance and make music :(
what do you guys think?

Introduction
An excessive rise in blood sugar or glucose is known as "Diabetes Mellitus". The primary form of sugar in blood is blood glucose, which also serves as the body's primary energy source. In addition to being produced in the muscles and liver, glucose is obtained via diet. All of the body's cells receive glucose from the blood to utilize as fuel.
The hormone known as insulin, which transports glucose to every cell in the body, is released into the circulation by the pancreas, an organ situated between the stomach and the spine. When the pancreas produces insufficient insulin or insulin that is not functioning properly, glucose remains in the bloodstream instead of entering cells. Diabetes can be brought on by excessive blood glucose levels. Diabetes can affect people of any age or gender. Diabetes occurs in three basic types: Type 1, Type 2, and Gestational Diabetes.
Type 1 diabetes:
Although it can occur in adults as well, type 1 diabetes, often known as juvenile diabetes, primarily affects young people. Due to an immune system attack and subsequent destruction of the insulin-producing cells (pancreatic beta cells), type 1 diabetes results in insufficient or nonexistent insulin production. You won't get diabetes if you eat too much sugar, despite popular belief. The immune system of a person with Type 1 diabetes attacks the beta cells in their body, which produce insulin, which is how the disease began. Monogenic diabetes is the term for a subset of rare types of diabetes caused by mutations or alterations in a single gene. The two primary types of monogenic diabetes are Maturity-Onset Diabetes of the Young (MODY) and Neonatal Diabetes Mellitus (NDM).
Before the age of six months, diabetes is more likely to be non-diabetic diabetes mellitus (NDM) than autoimmune Type 1 Diabetes Mellitus (T1DM). MODY refers to a class of hereditary autosomal-dominant conditions characterized by early-onset, usually moderate hyperglycemia (high blood sugar). Rather than insulin resistance, it is the consequence of beta-cell malfunction. MODY is associated with mutations in a minimum of eight genes. There is an older group with the slower onset disease in addition to the typical young individuals with acute onset T1DM. They may appear to have Type 2 Diabetes Mellitus (T2DM) in middle age, but tests for the anti-glutamic acid decarboxylase (GAD) antibody show indications of autoimmunity. Eventually, they develop an insulin-dependent lifestyle. This condition is known as Adult Latent Autoimmune Diabetes (LADA).
Complications of diabetes
Complications from diabetes have been shown to significantly raise health care expenditures for both treating and managing the disease as well as increasing morbidity and mortality. Diabetic patients who have out-of-range diabetes treatment and higher long-term blood glucose levels are more likely to experience microvascular and macrovascular problems.
Blood glucose levels that are too high over time can lead to a number of problems, including:

• Diseases of the eyes caused by alterations in fluid levels, tissue edema, and injury to the blood vessels in the eyes
• Foot issues brought on by nerve damage and decreased blood flow to your foot
• Gum disease and other dental issues, as harmful bacteria are encouraged to proliferate in your mouth by a high blood sugar level in your saliva. Food particles and bacteria interact to create plaque, a soft, sticky film. Eating foods high in sugar or carbohydrate can also cause plaque. Certain kinds of plaque lead to foul breath and gum disease. Cavities and tooth decay are caused by other types.
• Damage to your blood vessels and the nerves that regulate your heart and blood vessels can result in heart disease and stroke.
• Renal disease brought on by harm to the kidneys' blood arteries. Diabetes frequently results in elevated blood pressure. That could also be bad for your kidneys.
• Damage to the nerves and the tiny blood arteries that supply your nerves with oxygen and nutrients might result in nerve issues (diabetic neuropathy).
• Nerve injury and decreased blood supply to the genitalia and bladder can lead to sexual and urinary issues.
• Disorders of the skin, some of which are brought on by modifications to the small blood vessels and poor circulation. It is also more common for people with diabetes to get infections, particularly skin infections.

Additionally, acute hyperglycemia emergencies can be brought on by high blood glucose levels. These emergencies consist of:

• The most common cause of ketoacidosis, a potentially fatal condition marked by hyperglycemia and elevated blood acid (ketone) levels, is type 1 diabetes.
• Hyperosmolarity is a condition that causes the body to lose water from its organs. It is marked by prolonged hyperglycemia without ketoacidosis and severe dehydration.

Management of diabetes
Type 1 diabetes is a complicated illness that needs to be managed on a daily basis with effort and preparation. Here are some tips to help you effectively manage your Type 1 diabetes:
Check your blood sugar frequently: Using a continuous glucose monitor (CGM) or a glucometer to check your blood sugar is essential for managing diabetes and avoiding complications. If nothing else, make an effort to monitor your blood sugar levels before bed and after meals. Treating high blood sugar as soon as feasible is crucial.
Regularly take your insulin and other medications: Pay attention to the directions provided by your healthcare practitioner when taking your insulin and any additional drugs, if any.
See your endocrinologist frequently: To ensure that your Type 1 diabetes treatment plan is effective, it's critical to see your endocrinologist frequently. Don't be hesitant to pose targeted queries to them.
See your eye doctor and all of your other providers on a regular basis. Complications from type 1 diabetes can affect many parts of your body, but particularly your eyes. It's crucial to visit your ophthalmologist (eye doctor) at least once a year so they can examine your eyes.
Plan ahead for a sick day: Consult your endocrinologist about self-care and managing your diabetes during illness. Diabetes-related ketoacidosis (DKA) can be brought on by illness, so it's critical to be prepared by knowing what to do if you become ill in advance.
Stay educated: Never be reluctant to inquire about Type 1 diabetes with your healthcare physician. Your chances of leading a healthy life and avoiding problems from Type 1 diabetes increase with your level of knowledge about the disease and how to manage it.
Find a community: Making online or in-person connections with other Type 1 diabetics can make you feel less isolated while managing your condition.
Ensure your emotional well-being: Compared to people without diabetes, people with diabetes have a two to three times higher risk of depression and a 20% higher chance of receiving an anxiety diagnosis. Having a chronic illness that needs ongoing care can be very demanding. In the event that you exhibit symptoms of depression, it is imperative that you consult a mental health expert.
Conclusion
Four daily actions can help blood glucose levels remain within the desired range:
I. Stick to a balanced diet.

1. Engage in physical activity.

III. Regulate the dosage of insulin.
IV. Monitor diabetes.
At first, these tasks could seem overwhelming. Make minor adjustments until completing these actions becomes a regular part of your day.
To prevent hypoglycemia, learn to balance your insulin dosage with each meal and physical activity. Establish a goal range for your blood sugar and raise your HbA1c (keep it between 6% and 7%). Take part in running events and diabetic camps to network with other Type 1 diabetics and gain insight from their experiences. Stay positive, do yoga, and meditate. People can resume their normal lives and no longer have to fear diabetic consequences once they have learnt how to manage their diabetes.

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Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.

On the Origin of the Buddhist Arthakathás Cambridge University Press (1871)

"—the commentary, I say, upon this Scripture was
at the first Council rehearsed by five hundred holy elders
and in later times rehearsed again and yet again."

L. Comrilla Vijasinha, Government Interpreter to the Ratnapura Court Ceylon:
It must be admitted that the point raised by Mr. Childers is one of grave importance as affecting the credibility of Buddhaghosa and the authenticity of all the commentaries on the Tipitaka. From a missionary point of view, the astounding statement that a commentary on Buddha's discourses existed during his lifetime, and was rehearsed along with those discourses at the First Great Council, appears so improbable and unnatural as at once to justify one in discrediting the testimony; and I doubt not that missionary orientalists will hail the discovery as a valuable addition to their stock of arguments against the genuineness and authenticity of the Buddhist Scriptures.
Indeed I found it difficult at first to obtain the opinions of some of my learned friends of the Buddhist priesthood on this point, as they seemed to regard it as another thunderbolt intended to be levelled against their religion by some enthusiastic missionary ; and it was only after explaining to them the object of the inquiry, and the literary character of the gentleman who started the apparent difficulty, that I could induce them to look the question fairly in the face.
I am glad to say that most of my clerical Buddhist friends with whom I have consulted on this subject agree with me on the necessity of giving a wider and more extended signification than is generally allowed to the word Atthakathá as applied by Buddhaghosa in the passage cited. The word, as is well known, is compounded of two terms, attha, " meaning, " and katha , " a statement, explanation, or narrative," the dental t being changed to the cerebral by a latitude in the rules of permutation.1 The literal meaning of the compound term would thus amount to simply " an ex- planation of meaning. " Taking this wider sense of the word as a basis for the solution of the problem, I think the statement of Buddhaghosa in his preface to the commentary on the Dígha Nikáya is not so hopelessly irreconcilable with probable and presumable facts as would at first sight appear.
On a careful perusal of the two accounts given by Buddhaghosa of the proceedings of the three famous Councils in the Sumańgala Vilásiní and the Samanta Pásádiká, this view will, I think, be found to be very reasonable. It must be admitted that no actual commentary, in the sense that the westerns attach to that term, and like that which has been handed down to us by Buddhaghosa, existed either in the lifetime of Buddha or immediately after his death. The reasons adduced by Mr. Childers, apart from others that can easily be added, against such a supposition, are overwhelmingly convincing. But if we suppose that by the word Atthakathá in his preface Buddhaghosa only meant to convey the idea that at the various Councils held for the purpose of collocating the discourses and sayings of Buddha, the meanings to be attached to different terms were discussed and properly defined, then the difficulty of conceiving the contemporaneous existence pf the commentaries and the Pitakas would be entirely removed.
This view of the subject will appear still further borne out if we briefly glance over the history of the First Convocation, as narrated by Buddhaghosa himself. The first proposal to hold an assembly of priests for the purpose of collocating Buddha's discourses was made by Mahá Kassapa, the chief of the seven hundred thousand priests who assembled at Kusinára to celebrate the obsequies of the departed saint. Seven days had hardly elapsed after that mournful occurrence, when signs of discontent at monastic restraint manifested themselves, and a disaffected disciple of Buddha named Subhadda openly proclaimed that now their master was no more the ties of discipline should be relaxed, if not broken. The words of consolation offered by this old monk to his brethren in distress are certainly remarkable, as it would be difficult to say whether they betoken more the callousness of his feelings or the depravity of his heart: " Brethren, enough of this sorrow, weep not, lament not. We are well rid of that Arch-priest, having been in constant dread of his declarations, This befits you, this befits you not. Now, there- fore, what we desire we shall do; what we do not desire that shall we not do." To a sagacious mind like that of Mahá Kassapa it was not difficult to perceive what language like this foreshadowed, and he instantly formed the resolve to congregate the priesthood, and to collect and arrange the laws and doctrines proclaimed by his Master. Hardly two months had elapsed before this active mind brought about what it had contemplated, and the result was the Council of the Five Hundred, convoked at Kájagaha, under the auspices of King Ajátasattu, for the purpose of collecting and arrang- ing the doctrines and discourses of Buddha.
The proceedings of this Council appear to have been con- ducted in a very orderly and systematic manner, which is the more surprising when we consider that monastic autocracy was about to give place to a form of church government prescribed by the great Founder himself, but which was now to be established and tested for the first time. Mahá Kassapa, whom Buddha indirectly indicated as his equal in point of superhuman mental acquirements, assumed the office of Moderator, and by the unanimous consent of the synod Upáli was elected as the best qualified of their order to repeat the Yinaya, and Ānanda the Dhamma ; the Council having previously decided that the Yinaya was the most material for the permanence of Buddhism.
Now it is important to observe that the catechetical form was used in the collocation of both the Laws and Doctrines. "Afterwards Mahá Kassapa, having seated himself in the presidential chair, questioned the venerable Upáli respecting the Yinaya in this wise. Brother Upáli, where was the first Párájika promulgated? My lord, at Vesáli. On whose account? On account of Sudinna, the son of Kalanda. With regard to what offence? To fornication. Then did the venerable Mahá Kassapa question the venerable Upáli on the offence, the cause, the offender, the primary law, the secondary law, the transgression and the non-transgression, relating to the first law enacted against mortal sin. And the venerable Upáli explained as he was questioned." Such was also the method employed in the synod in the collocation of the Dhamma : - " Brother Ananda, where was the Brahmajála delivered ? My lord, between Rájagaha and Nálanda," and so on. Though it is subsequently added that " at the conclusion of the questions and answers the five hundred Arhats repeated the texts together in the order in which they had been collocated,"- it is difficult to believe that all' the five hundred rehearsed the long narratives prefixed to some of Buddha's discourses in the same words and style that they are now clothed in. Buddhaghosa's account of the synod is gathered from tradition, which was very probably embodied in the Simhalese atthakathás, and there can be little doubt that the main facts are correct ; but that he drew largely from tradition, written and oral, and possibly in some instances from imagination, will I think appear clear to any careful reader of the commentaries. Witness for instance his relation of Ananda's mysterious entrance into the assembly : pathaviyam nimujjitvá ottano árnne y em attánam dassesi , ákásena gantvá nisïdîti pi eke , " He plunged into the earth and showed himself in his seat, and also some say he went through the air and sat down." He does not say which version is correct, but is quite satisfied with both accounts, and is evidently quite willing to let his readers choose whichever they like.
Buddhaghosa throughout all his writings appears to have set one great object prominently in view, namely to inspire reverence for what he considered as supreme authority. When he came to Ceylon for the purpose of translating the Simhalese commentaries, he found a great many extant at that time, and out of these commentaries, embracing no doubt various shades of opinion, and representing different schools of thought, he had to expunge, abridge, enlarge, and make a new commentary. Now how could he do all this, and at the same time preserve undiminished among future generations the same reverence and authority in which the older commentaries were held by the Buddhists of that age? The thought struck him, as no doubt it would strike any careful reader of the Buddhist Scriptures, that a large portion of the writings contained in that canon appear to be explanations and definitions of terms used by Buddha, and also that a great many discourses said to have been delivered by Buddha to certain individuals have not been recorded.
Now what more easy to conceive, or what more probable, than that they formed the nucleus of matter for the formation of a commentary, and that at the First General Council, which lasted seven months, the elders, who had all seen and heard Buddha, should have dis- cussed them, and decided on the method of interpreting and teaching the more recondite portions of Buddhist philosophy ? and what therefore if he should say in somewhat exaggerated language, " the commentary on the Digha Nikáya was at the beginning discussed (or composed, or merged into the body of the Scriptures) by five hundred holy elders" ? - for the original words may admit of such a construction. If or will this opinion appear merely hypothetical if we carefully peruse the account given by Buddhaghosa of the commentaries in his Samanta Pásádiká. In his metrical introduction to that work, after the usual doxology, he explains the necessity of having a proper Pali Commentary on the Vinaya, and then proceeds to set forth what he is about to do : -
"In commencing this commentary, I shall, having embodied therein the Mahá Atthakathá, without excluding any proper meaning from the decisions contained in the Mahá Paccarí, as also in the famous Kurundi and other com- mentaries, and including the opinions of the Elders, - perform my task well. Let the young, the middle-aged, and the elderly priests, who entertain a proper regard for the doctrines of the Tathágata, the luminary of truth, listen to my words with pleasure. The Dhamma, as well as the Yinaya, was declared by Buddha, his (sacerdotal) sons understood it in the same sense as it was delivered ; and inasmuch as in former times they (the Simhalese commentators) composed the com- mentaries without disregarding their (the sacerdotal sons') opinions, therefore, barring any erro* of transcription, every- thing contained therein is an authority to the learned in this priesthood who respect ecclesiastical discipline. From these (Simhalese) commentaries, after casting off the language, condensing detailed accounts, including authoritative deci- sions, and without overstepping any Pàli idiom (I shall pro- ceed to compose). And as this commentary will moreover be explanatory of the meaning of words belonging. to the Suttas in conformity with the sense attached to them therein, therefore ought it the more diligently to be studied."
....continued...
On the Origin of the Buddhist Arthakathás Cambridge University Press (1871)

I was recently diagnosed with IH, and I was given a 150 mg test pack of Armodafinil. After a week or two of trying that, I told the doctor during my follow-up that I didn't think it made a difference, and he gave me a test pack containing 250 mg.
It felt okay at first, and today is my first day using it. I don't think I observed any difference other than the occasional, intermittent sensation of my heart racing, but I'm not sure if that was caused by a placebo or just my imagination. I started feeling sleepy six hours after taking it, but it was different from how I usually feel in that I felt like I NEEDED to sleep and that if I let myself lie down, I would surely fall asleep. I was yawning, but not in the deep or constant way that I usually am.
I was really hoped that taking armodafinil would make things feel entirely normal for some people, but thus far, that hasn't happened for me. I was reading postings and comments regarding the drug here. Does it take a while for it to become effective? Is there a range of effectiveness, meaning that it might be somewhat effective? Is this all I'm going to get out of it? Or is it something that I have to acknowledge doesn't work for me and either works or doesn't? I'm just trying to get more knowledge and experiences to improve my thinking. Many thanks ahead of time:)

TLDR: Ex attempted suicide while we were together and broke up with me soon after. Over the past year I have continued to reach out to her every few months or so to see how she is going, and to see if there is any chance we could be in each other's lives again (be it friends or relationship), even though she has expressed very much that she wants me to let her go and that she can't continue this ("this" being the talking to me).
Bit of a long post, sorry, but here goes.
Just over a year ago at the beginning of 2023, while we were dating, my Ex made a suicide attempt and very nearly didn't make it through. Obviously, this was a very tough time for her, and everyone close to her. Her family and I did all we could to offer support and be there for her during the recovery time. She went back home to her parents' place, in another city, after being released from hospital but only stayed a few days as she couldn't take it and just wanted to go back to her "normal" life. She is very much of the stubborn type and doesn't like to be given help by other people and feels like she has to do things herself. She also is very hard on herself, and I believe she feels a lot of self-blame and guilt for what happened (this is important for later on).
She was admitted to a mental health ward shortly after getting out of hospital which devastated her and obviously threw her "normal" life out the window. All she wanted to do after getting out of hospital was get back to her flat, back to her job, back to uni, and just continue on. I would call her on the phone most nights and offer to visit but she would refuse the visit as she didn't want me to "see her like this and in this place". Eventually they allowed her time out, like 4 hours a day and we would catch up during these times when we could, a lot of the time she wasn't up for it which I understood.
She got out of the ward about 2 months after being admitted and it was a tough month afterwards. She was obviously not feeling well about the whole situation and wasn't anywhere close to getting "better". At one point she even expressed to me how she still wanted to die. I was always very supportive of her, encouraging her to seek help via therapy, talking to her about it, encouraging her to come on walks/gym with me and whatever I thought might lift her mood. I made it very clear to her that I don't have any resentment toward her or any ill feelings for what happened and that I only wanted to do whatever I could to help her get better, I really cared for her and loved her.
Unfortunately, after this tough month she decided to call it quits, claiming she thinks it will be better for both of us, that I deserve better, that she cares enough about me to not fuck me around... I agreed at the time saying that it probably is for the best, something I regret to this day and wish I fought a little more. There were a few instances before this in our relationship we she expressed that she thinks we should break up, not exactly pulling the pin, rather expressing her feelings, and I have talked her out of it and changed her mind (now I see why, she was most likely having thoughts about attempting suicide at this point).
After this breakup we talked a little over the next couple of weeks, seeing each other at the gym a couple times but it eventually got too much for her and she expressed this, so I suggested we got no contact, she agreed. This was probably the toughest time of my life as I not only was deeply saddened by our breakup as I loved her greatly, but I also worried a shit ton about whether or not she would be here when I woke up the next day. We remained in no contact for about 1 month I think until we spotted each other at the gym again and talked there, I then texted her after and tried to start a conversation, we talked for a little bit until she expressed how this needs to stop and she wants me to move on and let her go. A month after this her flat had a party and she invited me over, we have a small rekindling for a couple days but eventually it got to the same end result.
Since our initial breakup I have learned that she has been back to the mental ward two more times, the second being after making another suicide attempt. By coincidence, I reached out to her during both of these times and remained in contact until she was out, when she would call it quits shortly after. I think talking to me helped get her through it a little bit. The second time she expressed still that she doesn't really see any alternative future than her ending herself.
In short, every few months or so, I have reached out again via txt, she is initially very hesitant, but we normally continue talking for a little while until eventually we get to a point where she get very emotional and calls it quits again.
She has expressed to me each time these talks come to an end that she just wants me to let her go. She makes it very clear that she loved me very much and cares for me greatly, but she just wants me to move on and that she can't continue this. The problem is, I just can't stop worrying about her and obviously don't want to see her go. I also desire heavily to be a part of her life again. After not talking to her for a couple of months or more, I get a MASSIVE urge to reach out and check up on her, talk to her, that I just can't seem to shake. I get heavily down in my own life during these times as I can't think of anything else. I almost believe that if I don't reach out to her than I am giving up on her and feel as though I am turning my back on a loved one in their time of need. I also can't help but feel the reason she wants me to let her go and move on is that she is still planning on making another attempt and wants to lessen the impact on me as much as possible. Ofc, I would be destroyed either way.
I am writing this post as I am once again feeling these urges and struggling to decide what I should do.
I want to do everything within my power to help her through this time, but I feel like she is pushing/has pushed me away not because she doesn't want a relationship with me, but because she feels extremely guilty about what happened. She believes she has hurt me greatly and wears a lot of blame because of that, she even said that she breaks down when I text her as she feels so sorry for what she did to me. I have expressed to her many times that I don't see it that way and that there is nothing else I would rather do than to "help" her, that I can't "save" her, I just want to be there for her and support her.
So, am I wrong for continuing to reach out to my Ex?
Bit of background info, we only dated for 7 months total and were not living with each other. Even though it was short, she made me feel ways that I have never felt before and we had a very strong connection.

preface: this is compilation of tips that i feel get undermentioned in general guides and that i wish i knew when i started playing, from my personal experience as a casual player who has been playing for less than a year. it is NOT comprehensive guide.
i refer to casual players as anyone who doesn't regularly (NOT the same as frequently) play the game, doesn't take part in every event, generally doesn't bother with more complicated techniques, etc.
feel free to share any tips you also wish you knew as a beginner and i'll try to add as many as i can (with credit of course)!

non-gameplay

• this game is NOT beginner friendly.
  • premium boxes cost A LOT and there is no pity/guarantee system**.
  • it's fun and the tsums are cute though so like
• therefore, PLANNING AHEAD and PRE-FARMING COINS are key to obtaining your desired tsums.
  • someone will usually post the following month's calendar near the end of the month which shows all the tsum available that following month and their availability periods.
  • u/MalibuDan posts monthly tsum evaluations at the start of every month as well, VERY HELPFUL in deciding whether or not to pull for a specific tsum.
• finish the colouring book cards for max skill level gadget hackwrench.
  • this will be your best coin farming tsum at the start, and if you just get unlucky trying to get a better one.
• LINK YOUR LINE ACCOUNT AND ADD FRIENDS. this subreddit has a monthly line id thread for this.
  • adding friends through line is ESSENTIAL to maintaining a steady supply of hearts.
  • linking your line account also just ensures you never lose your progress as long as you have your line account.
• many recommended tsums require a certain skill level to start functioning optimally.
  • the specific skill level is not always explicitly mentioned, do your own research.
  • there are a lot of videos on yt showcasing tsums at different levels that are helpful for this.
• only invest in the skill level of tsums you are comfortable using.
  • no matter how recommended a tsum is, if you are not comfortable using it, it will perform less efficiently than one you are comfortable with.
  • skill leveling is exponential. don't waste precious skill tickets or coins on pulling dupes unless you're sure you will be using the tsum.
• a lot of skill descriptions DO NOT list the full skill. DO YOUR RESEARCH.
  • e.g. anakin tsum skill description ONLY mentions the short tap for to clear multiple lines of tsums (short chains, good for generating bubbles) and does NOT mention the long directional tap to clear significantly larger line of tsums and bubbles (bigger chain, more score+exp+coins)
  • a good indicator you might be missing something is if the tsum is severely under-performing compared to reviews.
• yes, you should raise your all your tsums' (score) levels.
  • the score level refers to the amount of base score points you gain when clearing that specific tsum. chain multiplier calculates off that tsum's base score points.
  • it's necessary to avoid struggling with score-based missions down the line, especially since tsums aside from my tsum are selected at random.
  • the level 5 and level 10 cap cost 2k coins to unlock and increase beyond that. max level is 50.
• tsums are categorised. my tsum will significantly decrease the chance of spawning tsums in the same category for each game.
  • e.g. general colours, round/pointed ears, wears a hat/crown/etc, princess/queen/villain/etc, animals, tsums with variations (mickey, cabbage mickey, daruma mickey, etc), series/franchise (frozen, winnie the pooh, pixar, etc) etc etc etc
  • this is more relevant for clearing tsum missions that do not require a specific my tsum.
    • specific my tsum missions will provide a list of tsums you can use and will indicate before starting a game if the current my tsum cannot be used for the mission.

**there technically is a guarantee system in that, if you max out a tsum's skill level, they will be removed from the pool. needless to say, it will take VERY LONG to reach any sort of guarantee.

actual gameplay

• the try again button in the pause menu simply ends the game. bonus items are NOT refunded.
  • saves time if you mess up and know you won't be able to complete a mission.
• accuracy > speed.
  • avoids wasting time possibly fumbling chains
  • longer chains give more score+exp+COINS
• save bubbles to trigger fever time or to spawn new tsums for easier / better chains.
  • triggering fever time adds +5sec to the timer.
  • whether you use gyro or the fan button, repositioning tsums wastes precious time that could be spent on clearing tsums.
• if you regain your skill right as the timer is ending:
  • if the skill clears tsums (i.e. burst, clears lines, etc), use it before the timer ends.
    • last bonus skill picks a tsum to clear at random, possibly clearing the least number of tsums. using your skill will almost always give you more rewards.
  • if the skill does not clear tsums (i.e. friend-calling tsum), leave it for last bonus after the timer ends.
    • you might not have time to clear any tsums after activating the skill and the skill value will be wasted.
    • exception is time stopping/adding skills.
• if you are close to completing a mission, it's cheaper to extend the timer (5 rubies) than to make the mission easier (10 rubies) in the card menu.
  • of course, this only applies if you only need a bit more to complete the mission, otherwise making the mission easier cuts the mission goal a significant amount.
• only use +coin bonus item if you can guarantee 1k+ coin score.
  • simple math, you break even or gain less than not using it otherwise.
  • basic probability, chances of getting a high multiplier is possible but extremely low. it's also just a waste for the chance to occur with a low coin score.
• some skill tickets (most importantly 5>4) are discounted near the end of the month.
  • this is an optimal time to farm especially if you have a good coin farming tsum.
  • it's also a good time for completing harder missions as 5>4 helps in multiple aspects.

i hope this will prove to be helpful to someone! and please let me know if i've made any errors!
i will try to keep adding tips if/when they occur to me or someone offers a good one, so again feel free to share your own!

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.
First/Previous
Archive

In the vast countryside, away from the busy city of Savannah, exist hills as tall as buildings and green as emeralds. There was also an aura of calmness, with a few birds twittering away in dispersed trees, followed by the gentle swaying of the wind.
Then, out of nowhere, came a small, lonely girl wearing a once-lily-white summer dress with a striped long-sleeved t-shirt underneath it. She was also wearing a dark blue and cream-white baseball hat with the letter D on the front of it. She was moving wearily, with a pistol in one hand, and wiping her damp eyes with the other.
She knew what happened to make her weep. According to her, it was her fault that she got him killed; she was convinced by a towering man who said he knew her parents. But that was a brainless, childish lie that got Lee killed. She shouldn’t have run off. At least, Lee taught her how to use a gun and what to expect in the future before his tragic passing. But now she was all on her own.
Eventually, she came to a log, which was next to the rusted shell of a car. Anyway, she proceeded to sit down on it. Throughout all of this, she was as quiet as a mouse, only looking at her feet and wiping her blood-red eyes. She noticed that on the floor next to the log was a mixture of bullets—some shell casings and some unfired ones. Out of curiosity, she picked it up and examined it before exhaling deeply, which is when she noticed something else. Something she could just about make out if she scrutinised her eyes—something on the nearest hill—looked like two figures. One followed the other, and they looked like they stopped to look at her, making her start to hyperventilate as her eyes extended to the size of oranges. Was it someone she knew? Was it a threat to her? She didn’t know.
"Lee said I needed to find Omid and Christa before he got killed because of me." She said to herself, still looking sad, as she noticed that the two figures were now coming down the prominent hill—they didn't look like walkers. So she clasped her gun tightly until the figures came into view. She ended up not firing the gun and running towards the figures, as it was Omid and Christa, and they were alive!
Omid was a tall, slim Persian-American man with short dark-brown hair and a beard to match.
Christa, on the other hand, was a slightly taller African-American lady. She also had jet-black hair tied up in a ponytail, and she was Omid’s girlfriend.
"Clementine, honey, where's Lee?" Christa asked, kneeling to the nine-year-old.
"H-h-he's...dead." She answered with her face buried in Christa’s shoulder.
"Oh, Clementine, we’re sorry," Omid said, who started to kneel to her height as well.
"W-where's Ben and Kenny?" Clementine asked, still with her face buried in Christa’s shoulder.
Omid and Christa then looked at each other without Clementine noticing, and it was Omid who told her what happened to Ben and Kenny.
"So, it’s just us three," Clementine responded, now looking at Omid and Christa with her eyes dry again, a short while later.
"I guess, Clem, I guess so." Christa replied, "Come on, let’s go somewhere safe."
With this, the trio (Clementine, Omid, and Christa) began to walk, with Clementine tagging behind while Omid and Christa were in front. They were busily talking away, apart from Clementine, who was still looking at her feet, along holding the gun in her hand. As a result of this, she wasn't engaged in the conversation that they were having. She was too melancholy about what happened today. With her being kidnapped, seeing her walker parents, Lee dying, and now Kenny and Ben dying as well.
It was a lot for her to take in.
* * * * *
Sometime later, the trio found an abandoned house that had been abandoned for decades, as thick ivy hugged the walls. Furthermore, it reminded Clementine of that house they stayed at in Savannah; it was hard to believe that was a month ago.
Anyway, they succeeded in getting into the house rather than struggling, so now they could search within it.
Clementine, honey," Christa said, kneeling to her. "Omid, and I believe you can search parts of this house on your own. Just remember, if someone, walker or not, tries to hurt you, you got your gun. If you run out of bullets or are in a tight place, call us, and we will help you if you get into trouble. Do you understand?"
“Yeah, I do, Christa; I will be careful."
“Good," replied Christa, "let me know if you find anything."
With this, Clementine strayed a little by searching for anything useful on her own, though she stayed close to Omid and Christa.
As usual in the kitchen, she found faded, rusted cans with nothing but spoiled food inside. So she decided to head upstairs, and it seemed like they creaked with every step; as Omid and Christa were searching the enormous living room. Once she was upstairs, she clasped her pistol tightly and opened the door with one of her hands and the other on the pistol. Nothing. The room was that of a bathroom, with its normal interior—a bath, sink, toothbrushes, and some cupboards—which was stripped of life.
So she closed the door, walked to the next door, and proceeded to open it in the same manner she did for the bathroom. This room was that of a child’s room, which made Clementine remember her room back in Georgia, with its toys and books. It felt like she was just coming home from school and wanted to play with her dolls until supper time; it was hard to believe that was a year ago. Yet, here she was searching for anything useful in terms of survival—and not searching for a certain toy she wanted to play with at present.
“Just as well Lee found me when he did.” She said to herself as she glanced over at the room, trying to remember simpler times. When she went to school, she watched cartoons all day and rode her bike in the park with her parents. When she was thinking about this, she noticed that there was a medium-sized lump near the wall, cloaked in dust. It was a doll, and there was a string attached to its back, and when Clementine pulled it, it produced the word "Mama”.
Clementine remembered the doll that her mother gave her for her sixth birthday; it was probably still in the back of the wardrobe.
Eventually, she found an old pocket-sized backpack with a few flowery stickers, along with a dark-blue hoodie in her size.
“Have you found anything, Clementine?” called out Christa.
“Yeah, a backpack and a hoodie," answered Clementine, walking towards the edge of the stairs where Omid and Christa were.
“Just remember to check the bag, Clem; they might have something useful." Replied Christa.
“Ok," Clementine replied, unzipping the bag and then putting her hand into it, but not looking into it. Lo and behold, she found a working lighter, and it looked like it had a decent amount of fuel for a while.
Clementine then walked to the conclusive door upstairs, and like what she did before, however, the door required a little exertion to open. As a result of this, Clementine noticed that the noise she made alerted her to the presence of a walker heading towards her. This, of course, made Clementine a little timid, but she knew what to do. As her heart started to ram against her ribcage, likewise, a thick seal of sweat began to form on her hands, transferring onto her gun.
Always aim for the head," Clementine said to herself as she exhaled deeply and fired the gun. BANG!! The walker fell with a deafening thud, and Clementine was astounded at herself for shooting the walker that was coming towards her.
I did it, I did it," she exclaimed in a loud whisper. Which is when the door bursts open to reveal Omid and Christa with perturbed faces.
"Is everything OK, Clem? Are you hurt?" Asked Omid.
Yeah, I’m fine; I’m not hurt. Replied Clementine, as the trio all stood in stupefied silence at the walker that Clementine gunned down. "Did you find anything? Clementine asked after a minute of silence.
"Yes. We have found two cans of beans and some water." Christa replied.
"Oh."
“Well, let’s keep moving on, Clem. People might have heard the shot and might come here.” Omid said.
“Ok," responded Clementine. "I said already, but I found a backpack and a hoodie."
“Put it on, Clem; it’s starting to get colder, and we get going."
“Ok, I’ll put it on now."
Clementine then took off her hat, gave the gun to Omid, put on the dark blue hoodie, put her hat back on, and took the gun back from Omid. After that, Clementine followed Christa and Omid downstairs and out of the house and walked on.
* * * * *
Some short weeks later, the trio now situated in a substantial-sized forest under a thick canopy of leaves with Omid tending to a fire. Clementine and Christa, however, were sitting down on some nearby log around the fire.
Christa was busy talking to Omid about her pregnancy, whereas Clementine was busy herself by looking at the stars. The stars flickered and danced in the sky like a million tiny flames, casting a shimmering glow over the forest below. Furthermore, the sky itself was filled with low oranges, along with a mixture of light blues. Which were progressively getting into the realms of dark blues, purples and then full-on jet-black. Moreover, there seemed to be a chorus of crickets hiding somewhere in lush grasses, chirping away harshly.
“I would say that rabbit is cooked now, Omid.”
“Oh, right, yeah,” replied Omid, as he began to take the cooked rabbit off the spit – and handed it out to Christa and Clementine, then to himself.
"Thank you very much," Clementine said as she reached for the rabbit meat before going back to look at the stars. She thought to herself as she ate: "How many are there? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions?"
“Hm, what – sorry Christa; what did you say?”
“Omid and I said that we are going to rest here tonight and get going in the morning."
"Ok, as my legs still ache from all that walking we did today."
"Well, get some rest, you're going to need it," Omid said, rising from poking the fire.
"Ok," responded Clementine, getting up from the weather-worn log, wishing Omid and Christa a good night before she got onto the floor near the fire and began to close her eyes. She then began to dream about what she would be doing tomorrow, what would happen, and what she would see.
The next morning was filled with colours ranging from warm yellows trickling through the gaps in the trees. Clementine rubbed her eyes before getting up from the harsh, tough ground and walked to the log where she sat last night, where she saw Omid was cooking again.
"Morning, Clem," Omid said. "How did you sleep?"
"Ok, I'd rather sleep in a bed than on the floor."
"Yeah, I don't like it either, but it's necessary until we get to Wellington."
"Where's Christa?" asked Clementine, now looking around the campsite as she noticed Christa wasn't there.
But then, five minutes later, after Clementine had eaten, Christa came back - and with this, the trio began to walk on; with her now near Omid and Christa. Yet, like last time, Clementine's fingers were still wrapped around her pistol as if it were a part of her. But instead of looking at her feet, she was looking around the pensive clearing.
The clearing was serene, where only a few walkers were roaming around, but they could be seen more evidently through a few hacked trees. The trio strolled down the lane through dappled light filtering itself through the trees; moreover, the sound of the leaves rustled in the weak wind. There was also an occasional bird twittering away on a pile of stacked logs near the broad track Clementine, Omid, and Christa were walking. There was also an infrequent number of signs that littered the road.
"TWO MILES UNTIL TRUCK STOP", Clementine read as she walked on with Omid and Christa.
"How about...Isabella?" Christa said aloud.
"Nah," scoffed Omid, "James is far better."
"That's if it's a boy, Omid. Clementine, do you have any name ideas?"
"What about...Carley?"
"Yeah, that's a good name." Responded Omid, with an expression of puzzled thought in his voice.
For the next couple of miles, they (primarily, Christa and Omid) talked about what seemed to be endless baby names for Christa's child; to pass the time. Clementine wondered if her parents had this amount of difficulty when they chose her name.
Eventually, Clementine stopped a little as Omid and Christa walked on regardless; as she noticed there was a blackbird perched on a nearby tree which cawed before flying into the lush forest.
"What do you think?" asked Omid, as he poised at the truck stop over the abandoned road before crossing it with Christa and Clementine.
"Omid, you can't be serious," answered Christa.
"I am."
"We are NOT doing that."
"Why not?"
"Because one of you is enough!"

I’m struggling so much lately with being depressed. I’m so exhausted with life and I’m just constantly crying myself to sleep every night from stress. Constantly being told I’m not good enough from my family honestly breaks me. I’m 26 and a full time carer for my Nan, live at home with my Nan, and both my parents but they work full time. I cook and clean for everyone and I am grateful for them and I’m lucky I don’t have to be rent. However no matter what I do, nothing is ever good enough. I get told constantly every day the food isn’t good enough and onions aren’t cut up enough or the chicken isn’t cut up enough and even though they’re small request it’s a constant thing and being told I’m not good enough will go on for an hour talk and I feel like both my parents take out their stress on me they get from work. It’s like everyday I dread dinner time because I know they’ll come home and say what’s not good and how shit it is I always get “do you fucking hate us so much you just don’t care about your family” when it’s just how I cook, or I cook too many potatoes over pumpkin or things I find very small. Looking after my Nan isn’t stressful and she never complains. But today she slept for longer and past her dinner time which is around 4pm, my mum got home early around 4:40pm and Nan hadn’t had her dinner yet because she was asleep. I proceeded to wake her up and give her dinner. Mum went off at me saying I’m lazy and only care about myself and no one else and that went on for another hour of her constantly going on about it to me. Usually she will apologies when she calms down.
But this small things really trigger my depression and suicidal thoughts. It’s just in my head I’m constantly not enough, not good enough and that the world would be much better without me. I’m hiding in the bathroom while I type this because I’m crying, if I go out there I’ll only be told “what are you crying, I’ll give you something to cry about”.
I’m sorry I’m not sure if I’m asking for advice. I just needed to vent and writing this out makes me feel distracted from wanting to act on my suicidal thoughts.

I woke up this morning, stepped on the scale, and had hit my target weight so thought I'd jot down some thoughts.
None of this is really going to be news to anyone who's been on OMAD for a while.

1. The book Fast. Eat. Repeat. is pretty terrible. Don't bother with it.
2. The fasting part of OMAD is (mostly) not the key. It's just a nice hack to limit calories.
3. All the talk about "it's great not having to cook/meal plan all the time" is kinda true but also a bit meaningless unless you're single. I'm still doing the same amount of cooking and whatnot for my family. But now I just kind of hover awkwardly while they eat pancakes.
4. That said, the fasting does have a couple of nice by-products.
   1. When you only have one meal a day, it really makes you pay attention the quality of it. You can't kid yourself that you're going to eat more vegetables/fibewhatever in another meal that deal.
   2. It forces you to realise that being hungry is just a feeling that passes and not the end of the world. Even after being on OMAD for months I still hungry at non mealtimes sometimes. I just ignore that feeling and eventually it goes away.
   3. Having hard and fast rules about only eating one time a day is a good way to cut down on mindless calories from snacking & drinks.
5. OMAD is lot easier to do and still be social with friends and family. My wife had gestational diabetes so we were essentially on keto for a few months for that. Going out or meeting up with friends could sometimes be a nightmare. OMAD is a lot easier.
6. That said, OMAD doesn't make it perfect. If you do any social drinking, either at home with a spouse after a particularly long & hard day with the kids, or out with friends who want to catch up or vent or celebrate, that's borderline impossible with OMAD. You can only say "no thanks, not tonight" so many times without affecting the relationship.
7. I broke OMAD maybe 5-10% of the time? I didn't keep track exactly. Aforementioned social drinks. My kids had a birthday party and of course I'm not going to be a dick and say no to their cake. In-laws come over unexpectedly for dinner even after I've already eaten lunch. Three days out of town at a beach holiday. Things like that. One nice part about OMAD is it feels easier to take a break like that. Especially compared to something like keto where you're always "OMG it's going to take me 2-4 days to get back into ketosis..."
8. My wife was surprisingly unsupportive the entire time. Never underestimate how weird (some) people can be about any kind of diet that is slightly outside of the mainstream. (Just look at how much shit vegetarians and vegans have gotten over the decades.)
9. I didn't really have a goal to begin with, which in retrospect was a bit of a mistake. Just "need to lose weight because I'm getting way too much of a dad bod". Probably would have been better to think that through at the beginning.
10. I had never weighed myself daily before. It was eye opening and frustrating. Some days you know why things are fluctuating. Some days you're just left going WTF, how could I have possibly gained 0.5kg yesterday? That's like 3,000 calories above TDEE?!?
11. What's next? Figuring out what maintenance looks like. The social limitations of OMAD do chafe a bit. It is nice to have a glass of wine with my wife after the kids are in bed. It is nice to be able to have family breakfast on the weekend and also have family dinner together. It is nice when a friend calls me up last minute in the afternoon and asks if I want to grab dinner and catch up I don't go..."Well, I already ate lunch...." My guess is that I'll probably evolve towards some kind of flexible 20-4 eating window but we will see.

Looking to see if anyone has seen this before. What are some potential causes? Current vet hasn't experienced this other than a pet with a hot water injury, so we're waiting to see how it progresses after antibiotics.
Photos of the area: https://imgur.com/a/9ikoVMC
Species: Dog Age: 3 years Sex: Female, spayed Breed: Golden doodle Weight: 11.9kg
Clinical signs (from medical notes): SKIN: L lateral thorax - rectangular area of darkened skin. Caudal aspect of lesion about size of a loon is scabbed with mild amount purulent debris when scab removed. Loon sized lesion there is cellultis and the skin is degraded. 2 darker looking bite/puncture wounds noted on the wound but does not probe.
Duration: Noticed matted fur on Tuesday. Went to brush it on Wednesday and discovered the lesions and dark skin. Location: BC, Canada
Other information: When investigating, small amounts of fur came off easily with slight tugging. On Saturday, there was an altercation with a cat that was aggressive with my dog. It happened quickly so I don’t know exactly what happened but saw the cat try to take a swipe at my dog’s front. Did a physical check but didn’t see anything on her front but didn’t check her sides or back at the time. Not sure if the cat made contact, but that’s my best guess of what this is from.
As per convo with vet, the darkened skin feels leathery. We’re waiting to see how this progresses in the next half week. Abscess might be due to cat, but if it progresses differently… not sure how we’ll proceed at that time.