Birthday wishes to a deceased sister

I don’t remember most of my childhood, I rember being woken up at 3 am for not putting a broom back right or forgetting to wash a dish. I remember being hit in a red room with tarps on the floor to catch paint drops. I remember my mom telling me and my sister that we caused her cancer, and seeking attention as a kid on the playground. I remember texting my friends in grade school when I wanted to kill myself and my parents finding it and never getting me help. I remember taking intervals between being in push-up position and in the corner as my dad banged on things as he yelled. I remember when me and my sister rushed to wash dishes and have a sparkling kitchen and being so afraid that when he came home he would hit us. I remember my dads birthday when I ate some of his pie and he yelled at me so much I went to my room and I wrote down everything I hated about myself and hung it up and motivation to change. I remember the first time I self harmed after my dad had an especially bad day and yelled all afternoon about why he disliked me and my sister. I remember my dad putting me and my sister in push up position in an ace hardware store. I don’t remember my parents much, they seem like foggy blobs that taunted me when I tried to speak. I don’t remember who I was as a kid, I know I was annoying and too loud. That I loved physical contact with my mom because she was warm and felt safe for the most part. Other than that I forget how life was and wasn’t. I think that now I’m severely fucked up, I don’t know my parents as people. I don’t really know anyone and I think I hate myself for that. I don’t think I’m a real person most of the time, I don’t know if anything actually happened and I’m just being delusional but I feel like something did. I feel like more happened and it kills me that I don’t know more about that time in my life. I don’t remember anything anymore about my life. Sometimes I’ll wake up, go into the kitchen and think, “am I real? Are my parents real? Did I make this all up in a way to hurt and comfort myself ? Why am I here if I’m in such pain?” And I wonder if I’m actually a child or just a fucked up young adult who can’t fend for themself?

It’s pretty much the title. But i feel like we could use a palate cleanser from some of the awful people we see here on Reddit.
I’m Catholic, and for the first 6 years of my education, I went to a private Catholic school. In kindergarten, me and my twin brother (19f, 19m) had a friend, Wyatt (19m). My mom (54f) was his mom’s RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults) sponsor, so we ended up spending a lot of time together as kids. In 4th grade, my brothers and I transferred to a different school, and we fell out of touch with Wyatt and the rest of his family.
Fast forward to 2022. My mom is at Costco, and she runs into Wyatt’s dad, Mike. The two get to talking, and they say how they want to get us kids together. That didn’t happen until about a year later. In August of 2023, we went on a joint family camping trip, and every so often when I’m home for the weekend from school, we’d do other family things. We’ve gone zip lining, axe-throwing, hiking, done escape rooms—basically just fun family stuff. It was around that first camping trip that Mom and Mike made things official. For the last four months or so, all of us kids have known on some level that they were going to get married.
They aren’t super over the top around us kids, but we do feel like one big dysfunctional family. It can be really stressful at times for me to be around so many people all at once, but I like it. My younger brother (16m) and Mike’s second son (17m) are already like brothers, and I’m slowly getting closer to his daughter (15f). She’s a sweet girl who’s super tomboyish like me, and we’re each other’s sister we never had.
Mom and Mike had another camping trip planned for this weekend, but I had a previous commitment with a friend, so I stayed home (the benefit was that Mom didn’t have to ask anyone to take care of the dog or the chickens lol). As my friend and I were driving home from our plans today, I was texting with my mom when she said she had a question for me. Seeing as she’d entrusted her house to me, my mind started going worst-case scenario when she said that. I played it cool, and I responded with “Shoot.” She then sends me a picture of her hand with an engagement ring on, and the caption was “Will you be my maid of honor?”
Apparently, she and Mike had hiked to the top of a mountain (they go on hiking trips a lot) and at the top of the mountain, he popped the question. My mom and I had discussed the potential wedding between her and Mike, and she’d said that she only wanted me and Mike’s daughter as her bridesmaids. That said, I accepted. My mother also watches our potato queen’s videos and has seen enough delulu bridezillas dump all the planning on their MOH, and she told me that I will not be responsible for any planning. I will still attempt to plan a bachelorette, which will probably be a tea party in the backyard because I’m not old enough to drink and my mom isn’t a drinker. (But if anyone has ideas for a bachelorette that a college sophomore can throw together, they are greatly appreciated.)
I haven’t even seen my mom’s face, but I was able to feel how happy she is over our texts, and I’m just as happy for her. For the last 10 years, she’s put aside her own needs and focused on making sure my brothers and I were taken care of. She’s bent over backwards for us to make sure we had whatever we needed, all while teaching middle school. My mom is an actual superhero. After all these years of her taking care of us, it makes me so happy and gives me peace of mind that she has someone to take care of her now.
I couldn’t have picked a better guy for her because not only is Mike good to her, he’s good to me and my brothers. He helps my twin get involved with jobs and is good with his boundaries. Whenever he’s working in the same area my college is in, he offers to take me to lunch, and he’s been to both of my orchestra concerts. He helps my other brother work on cars and was there for every ROTC drill competition. Basically, he’s been the father I always wished I had but didn’t get to grow up with. Well, better now than never.

This post isn’t meant to bash good fathers; I (F22) wish I had one myself. I just need to talk to someone who would listen.
I don’t want to call him my dad (M59), he’s just a birth-father to me. I swear, all that man cares about is money. He married my mother (F54) out of obligation had kids out of obligation, and now is just doing whatever the fuck he wants. He forced me into Speech Pathology as a career (one that I’m struggling to achieve, luckily I like the career) and my little brother (M17) into Engineering. Sometimes my brother behaves just like my dad and it scares me.
I had a talk with him a few hours ago, about university acceptances, his concerning behaviours and just him in general. He opened up that he no longer had much of a passion for engineering. In that talk I suggested he gets a degree in Law (he’s really good at arguing lol) or a degree in a job he’d be happy/find fun in doing. In this talk I told him I knew why he always follows my dad around and tried to please him - he wanted my dad’s love and approval. He wanted my dad to (for once) ask him what he wanted in life. He wanted a father who loved him without conditions. I told him it was impossible. That in chasing my dad’s approval, he’d just lose himself, and I told him it wasn’t worth it at all. I saw his face fall - I’m such a cruel big sister, huh? Telling her own brother that their dad never loved them - never has, never will and that even though their mom isn’t much better, she is still better than him. I hope he can forgive me for that, and that he’ll allow himself to find out who he is (outside of my parents) sooner, so he doesn’t have to suffer like me.
I’ve been talking with my mom a lot. I don’t know how she lives with that man. I don’t understand why she always chooses him when he is so terrible to her. He takes her for granted, he verbally and physically abuses her, and has crippled her into an anxious mess. It makes me so mad, if only she was stronger - maybe then my brother and I would have a happier life.
He constantly makes me do his secretary work for his company that he wants to start up or anything. I have not been speaking to him for a week now. I’m so sick and tired of him using me and then not appreciating me in return. It might seem like I’m overreacting, but I’ve sacrificed so much of my life just to make my family happy. I feel like I’m the only adult in my house now. I used to cower like my mom, yell and cry, now I just stay silent. I stay silent as he tries to open the room to my bedroom door (which I have locked), I stay silent as he calls me useless and worthless, I stay silent as he goes upstairs to verbally abuse my brother and mother. Why? Because all he wants is for me to react. All he wants out of this altercation is for me to snap so he can blame me for everything that has happened. I won’t let him do it. I won’t let him use me like that anymore.
Whenever I’m with my immediate family, I feel so used. I can’t wait for the day I move out for good, the times I have in university with my friends now though, is the most alive I have ever been in my life. I don’t have to chase that feeling, I have love all around me now. I don’t need that man anymore (emotionally). Financially for now, I’m pretty stuck (I’m trying to find a job) but that’s okay. I can survive, I’m no longer that scared little girl who’d just cry herself to sleep, I’m a strong young woman.
I don’t know if it is advice I want, maybe I’m just wondering how I can continue to deal with this for the next 3 months. Maybe I also just don’t want to feel alone. As strong as I am, I do still wish I didn’t have to rely on my strength. I wish I could for once have a dad to listen to me as their daughter, to love and cherish me unconditionally. I wish I didn’t have to promise myself to never marry a man like my father in order to be happy. I wish I was happy now.

I can't get over this. We were on vacation with our respective kids, she messaged me accusing me of two things that aren't true and are provable by me, blocked me and ignored my milestone birthday 3 days later. She since unblocked me, probably by accident and can't re-block me for 48 hours. I sent her a thoughtful message outlining why her accusations were untrue, how hurtful she is being, nothing rude/angry but honest and candid. She's been online but hasn't read it (very unlike her). I messaged earlier wishing her 2 year old a happy birthday after she ignored mine. She said she'd let the 2 year old know.
I feel like such an idiot thinking she was my very dear friend. I'm too old for this nonsense and game playing. We have vacationed together and done all kinds of things with our own kids. We talked for hours at times, and every little thing that passed either of our minds, we'd share and laugh or comment on. I would have dropped what I was doing and drove the long distance to her house if she needed me. I feel so betrayed and screwed over and I don't understand how people can do this to others and not care about hurting them. I'm in tears and panicking and I feel like I should know better by my age. This is so hurtful and she won't even talk to me. I don't deserve this. How do I move on and fill this Friend sized hole in my life?

The boy who took my heart
but gave it back after crumbling it
Daylan Meadows my first heartbreak, it was truly one of the biggest learning experiences I’ve had so far. I loved him, I really did, and I know he loved me. But, not a single relationship is perfect. We weren't even close to perfect, but it felt perfect. He felt perfect. What I didn't realize was how emotionally damaging that relationship was until I lost him.
It was the summer of 2020, mid June when we first met. I was thirteen and he was seventeen. That night I was with all of my friends, we picked him up from his mamaw's house. At the time we were in different relationships. He was with a girl named Ciara, and was living with her in Berea. I was with a boy named Sam. Which was Daylans cousin, but I had met him through Jayla way before Daylan. But that night I remember seeing him, there was something different and special about him. We all drove around for a while talking and laughing about the most random things. We haven't really talked that night or after, there were times we would catch each other looking at the other. After a week or two Sam and I broke up. Jayla and I wanted to go do something before we packed her stuff to her apartment, so we invited Daylan. While driving around he had asked me how my relationship was going. Before I could say anything, Jayla told him that Sam and I broke up. He told me he was sorry to hear that but when I looked at the rearview mirror he had a big beautiful smile on his face. He started flirting with me, and we instantly connected. He told me how he and Ciara were over but he was still trying to get the stuff his papaw gave him. He never lied to me about their relationship. So we were always hanging out with each other, but he didn’t want everyone knowing, because he didn't want to hurt Sam. We hid it for a little bit. Then one day we were riding around with everyone, me and him were in the back seat. I had laid my head down because I had gotten car sick. When he saw he laid his head down with me making sure I was okay. Afterwards, he laid his hand on my knee showing me he was there for me not caring who saw.
I was falling for him. Everything about him I was falling for, the way his eyes form a yellow sunflower in the brightest baby blue, how they glistened in the sun, the way his big smile could bring light to every dark corner, the freckles that are placed perfectly on his skin, the way his voice made me feel at home, or how his jokes was always funny, but the way he looked at me, the way his skin peacefully touched mine, and the way he spoke to me with love are some of the many reasons I was falling in love with him. There was a night I never wanted to let him go. We laid there, soaking in every moment. He thought I had already fallen asleep, he pulled me in closer rubbing his finger against my cheek. I could feel him looking at me, but not just looking at me he saw me for who I was. He saw me. That’s all I ever wanted, and he gave it to me. The next morning It was just me and him and things started to progress. But the one thing I didn’t want him seeing, he saw. I was waiting for him to judge me, he never did. Instead he asked me why, the one thing no one took the time to ask. I opened up to him and he saw me, he understood me. He helped me. We were never apart, we were figuring out life together. He ended up living with me for a couple months. He was the first person to meet my mom. After we had gone and seen her, we had to stay at my aunt's house after we got back. The day we were leaving she had gotten into an argument with me. A lot of it was because of our age. Then that night he had to go back and live at his mamaws, but he was always there when I needed him. It never made us any different. He never left, he always chose me.
A year goes by 2021, we did everything together, we were experiencing everything together. Even though we had a hard time with our relationship we promised we will get through it together. We facetimed everyday, and sleep on the phone together. We even had a good night saying that we would say every night. We had gotten a dog, her name was lady may. We called her lady. After we had her for a while we had gotten willow. He and I did everything together and we always supported each other. I always made sure everyone knew I was his biggest fan. One time he let me bleach his hair and it had turned out orange. It was the funniest thing ever. We laughed about it for days. It was the little things that truly meant the most. We went to birthday parties, dinners, get-togethers, we were always there for one another. We opened up to each other more about our past. There were times we held each other on my bedroom floor as we cried together. We were learning more about each other everyday. He helped me eat when I couldn't even move out of bed. He would set alarms for every hour, so I could at least take a bite of something. He helped me when everyone was against me. He always stuck up for me. We loved each other more everyday.
After two years 2022, he got his own place, Sam and his dad Matt were also living with him. The relationship was getting hard, he would want me to stay the night with him but wouldn't want me to stay alone with Sam. I had understood why, that wasn't the problem though. The problem was he didn't trust me, so I would have to get Alicia to come over when he worked. Then he would still tell me how he dont trust me. I told him I could go home when he was going to work. Then that would lead to another argument because I didn't want to spend time with him. But we promised we would get through it together, and we did. That September he went 3 hours away for trade school. It sucked at first we missed seeing each other everyday but we still stayed. We got through it together. He came home and signed up for the marines. I didn't know about it until after. At first I was mad he didn't talk to me about it, after i supported him in every way possible. I was so proud of him, I still am. He had come so far in life and was chasing his dreams. How could i not support the boy who was so excited, the boy i loved more than anything, more than myself, the boy i wanted to be happy. He was happy so I supported him and that December he left. We wrote letters back and forth for three months. I was the first person he called when he only had one phone call and hadn't talked to anyone. When he came home it was like we had never been apart. Every little moment meant so much to us. Trying to salvage every ounce of each other before he had to go. Most of the time we sat in bed watching our favorite shows, talking about everything that has happened in the past three months. Then he had to leave all over again.
Summer 2023 was the hardest. He had gone back but was moved to North Carolina. We were doing so good, until we weren't. We argued all the time, he wouldn't call me or he would stay out all night and ignore me. I tried so hard to work it out. We promised we will get through it together. I went to visit him 9 hours away from home with my brother, Savannah, and sissy. The whole time we were there I had a feeling, I didn't know what it was.Then that night I ended up going through his phone. I didn't find anything serious but it did cause an argument. He had blamed it on me because I went through his phone and the only reason he was mad was because I woke him up. But I forgave him and pushed it away. He always apologized and tried to make it up to me, we always got through it together. I had ended up getting home 3 days after, that night we were on FaceTime and he was already asleep. I kept getting the feeling that I wanted to login to his Snapchat. At first I didn’t but the thought of it was making me sick. I knew something wasn’t right, and when I did I found it. I'll never be able to describe the sinking feeling in my chest, the feeling of wanting to throw up because your world is crumbling down, that full minute of silence, betrayal, heartbreak, how every breath felt harder and harder to reach, the way my hands started shaking with nothing but the thoughts racing through my head, and how my knees felt like giving out each step i took when walking down stairs to savannah. I don’t even know how I formed enough words or power to tell her I needed her to come upstairs with me. She could just see the look on my face. Running up the stairs I handed her my phone. Before she could even say anything I was on my knees bawling cursing him. I had woken him up, and he seemed so worried about me. Asking me what was wrong, what happened, am I okay? But I told him I knew about kaylee, the girl he was in the marines with and he went silent. Every question he said nothing, I called him every name in the book. Nothing. After 3 hours he finally told me. And I got off the phone. He checked on me every hour begging me to call him. I had ended things, I was so wrapped up in our relationship that I didn't think I could live without him. But at that moment I could. That was the first time he broke my heart, because even though we got back together, that wasn’t the end of it for him.
Two weeks later we found out I was pregnant, we were fixing everything we were doing well. I was still hurt but I had a baby to worry about now. We were so excited, we were planning everything. Until I started bleeding I knew something was wrong the first time it happened, everyone told me it was normal to spot in your first trimester. After a couple of days of bleeding more I went to the hospital. They did all kinds of tests and told me to come back in forty eight hours to check my hcg levels. When I went back my levels were dropping, they told me to come back in forty eight again. The day I was supposed to go back was horrible. I got up that morning, and was going to make myself some oatmeal. I was washing a bowl out, and got every light headed. I sat down for a minute, once I wasn't light headed anymore I got back up and continued to make the oatmeal. Not even a minute after standing back up I felt like I was going to pass out and throw up at the same time. Savannah was in the kitchen with me and she helped me sit down. She was going to finish making my oatmeal but I had to get up and run to the bathroom. I was trying to throw up but I couldn't. I had put myself on the toilet and pushed. My whole body drained, I was in so much pain. I managed to wipe myself and pull my underwear up, then I was on the floor screaming and crying. Savannah was trying to give me medicine but I was throwing everything up. She had called my sister, once she got there they put me in the car. I was passing in and out from the pain, my sister was rushing me to the hospital. After they took what feels like every test in the world, they finally told me. I was having a miscarriage. At first I didn't know how to feel but that night Savannah laid in bed holding me as I was bawling, asking God why he is doing this to me. Daylan tried to be there but didn’t know how. The next two weeks were really hard. Daylan got to come home, we never talked about the miscarriage. We fought the whole time because I found more stuff on his phone. I promised him I would never touch his phone again that I put it on our baby, and the words I never thought I would hear from him hurt me more than anything I’ve experienced. He told me we didn’t have a baby together. He broke my heart again. Those three weeks we were together again, I would cry almost every day in fear of an argument because I didn't want him out all night drinking. I had to beg him numerous times to not drink, he would be a complete asshole. But at the end of the day I would try and do everything I could to show I was a good girlfriend and that I was worth keeping. Then he left again, we were off and on that whole time nothing really changed. We argued or wouldn’t talk at all, there would be times where we would laugh and joke about everything because we saw each other. We were the only people who knew each other inside and out. The special FaceTime movie nights and how he would beg me to sing him to sleep. That never changed. My love for him always stayed the same. We’ll get through this together. We had to, we promised we would. Maybe this time we can fix it, maybe when he comes back home.
I never thought that when he did come home it would be the last time I saw him. I was so excited to be with him to be able to spend time together. But this would be the time he proves to me that he is changing and becoming better for us. The first night was amazing. We laid on the couch laughing and crying because we didn’t want to let each other go. He asked me if we were going to be okay with tears in his eyes. While holding him I told him yes we are going to be okay we are going to get through this together. He left the next morning. I didn't see him for two days. He told me he was going to hang out with buddies, but I never heard of them until then. I knew something wasn’t right, so I told him that. He told me I have nothing to worry about because he wants to come see me when I get home. On my way to my sisters I was telling Jayla about him going to Leslie co and that’s when she told me a girl named alyssa from there is reacting to his Facebook post. I ended up texting him about it and the whole time he lied to me. So I texted her and she told me the truth, and that indescribable feeling in your chest, the silence, the breaths, it all came flowing back as I’m on the kitchen floor of my sister's house bawling, begging god for us to be okay, begging god to not let me lose him. That’s when he texted me saying we will never be okay and we know that. He broke my heart again. I was begging for him not to go. I was laying in bed that night with the worst ache in my chest begging him to choose me. But he didn’t, after three years and everything we’ve been through he didn’t choose me. As my world was crumbling he handed me my crumble up heart, and chose hers. I packed up everything over the past three years for him to come get. And he did, he held me for the last time as I buried my wet face into where his neck met his shoulder. I wanted to memorize his scent as he drove away. I watched him turn away to leave and I swear to you I wanted to scream. I wanted to run after him, I wanted to beg him one more time to choose me, to love me, I wanted him. Then he drove away perfectly fine, not looking back, leaving me and my crumbled heart behind.
It’s been six months. You didn't tell me happy birthday three months ago, I waited all day. It was so hard at first, I didn't know how to be without him. He’s all I’ve ever known. But now I've felt so relieved and happy. I made plans to actually hang out with my friends again, focus on school and I've passed all of my classes for the first time in years. I know he would be so proud of me, we would be celebrating. I’ve hardly cried. And I still miss him everyday and hope for a text or call. He meant the world to me, he was honestly my best friend. I wouldn't change anything about us, I would never choose anyone else to go through it with. I will always care for him, and I'll forever wish he would come back one day so we can make it right. Maybe one day when we have grown up our paths will lead us back to each other, and we won't give up. But right now I feel like myself again. And they seem happy together. I would never want to get in their way or ruin their relationship. All I want is for him to be happy and if she's what makes him happy that's good enough for me. Although I was scared to lose him, I now love myself. I love him and I always will, but with loving him, I figured out how to love myself because Corinthians 13:4-8 “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” I hope love never fails you, I hope you never have to question your worth, I hope you find peace in your sad moments because hunny you deserve the world and its entirety. You're a reminder that there is love on the hardest days. A reminder that even though I was in a bad place, I don’t need anyone but myself to be happy and honest. You showed me everything I was capable of. You showed me the importance of loving myself before I lose myself. You showed me how important I am to others. I lost myself through it all but in the end I picked myself back up and continued walking forward. I finally see myself with love and beauty, as if all my insecurities had gone away. I see myself how you once saw me. I know how happy you would be for me and all of my accomplishments. You would be hyping me up for days, you would remind me every hour that I'm doing amazing, how proud you are, and how you knew I could do it. I just wish you realize before it’s too late, you need to love yourself before others. You could lose yourself on the way. Not all stories have a happy ending, but ours had a happy middle and beginning and that will always be enough because it means that we are a story worth remembering. That our love was real, because loving you is easy and letting go is hard. I so deeply love you Daylan Meadows. I hope one day we can come together, and love won’t fail us. So please don't forget the songs we listened to, or the things we talked about, the little inside jokes we had, or the laughs we shared. Please don't forget my smile, or the sound of my voice. Just please don't forget me.
Love, Neo<3

this is gonna be long but i need to get this out. idk where or how to start this so i’ll just start on how i was raised for a better perspective ig. i was raised mostly by my mother who is very strict. when i say strict i mean i couldn’t go out anywhere or with anyone. i’ve been living under the same apartments for 10yrs and i’ve never even been to the pool that’s here before. the ppl that run the office didn’t even know my mom had kids til a few yrs ago. whenever i did go outside (which i can count how many times on one hand) my friends had to stay where my mom could see us but they had bikes and didn’t wanna stay in the same place. it was very hard for me to make friends because i lacked the social skills needed for that. it made things no better that i was a very shy kid. let’s fast forward to middle school. i was lowkey bullied but because i was raised to not be nonconfrontational i just took it. i took a lot of stuff from everyone even now. during middle school my mother became a paraplegic and it just really took a toll on everyone involved. i don’t wanna go into detail because i refuse to relive that. i was in 8th grade when the pandemic started and started online school in 9th grade. to sum up 9th grade i don’t really remember it. i was extremely depressed and had too much time too myself. too much time to think. too much time to reflect. i remember my grandma died that year but that’s the only major thing i can remember. not even my birthday. the things i do remember are blurry. i remember doing sum work. i remember laying down and staring at a wall for hours and hours. i remember crying. i remember getting summer school papers. and that’s it. it was a very dark year for me. i entered 10th grade with a 0.6 gpa. i tried to make myself feel better by making friends but that’s was still hard most of the time “friends” i made made me the butt of all there jokes. and i took it. never defended myself cuz i was too scared of fighting. just a weak individual tbh. 11th grade year that i can’t really remember either. i made better friends did better in school but was still depressed but not as depressed as 9th grade i think. i think i have something called high functioning depression but idk. i still do everyday things but when im alone in my room all i wanna do is end it all. i’m currently a senior and graduate in 1 week. exciting right? not for me. it feels like the closer i get to the day of graduation the more the urge to kms gets. and i don’t wanna do anything for graduation because i just don’t think i need to but im being forced to. everyone would look at me weird if i didn’t. i even took pictures for it. i fucking hated them and don’t want anyone to see them but my mom wants to post it somewhere. ik i need help but idk where to start. i feel like im going back to 9th grade again. all the things i felt back then, it’s all coming back. tbh i don’t think they ever left. and ik i can’t tell nobody how im feeling but man i just need someone just to listen to me. i’ve been feeling like this for YEARS. i’m fucking tired of it all. i wish there was somewhere i can go to just be by myself of just forget everything. for get my mom, my sister, my family, my life. i wanna start over so bad. i wanna change my personality, and looks too but it’s so hard to even wanna get up sometimes. the only reason im holding on so long is so i can accomplish something in my miserable and useless ass life. but i’m still tryna figure out how i would go about kms. i would feel bad cuz i would hate to have to leave my mom with my sister. and i know it’s she’s gonna blame herself for eveything. i’m just so tired and ik everything i said doesn’t seem like a lot but i left out a lot as well. i’ve gone to therapy but i don’t need someone to tell me my feeling are valid. i don’t more breathing exercises. i don’t need someone else’s help. i want to be able to help myself. i’ve told my sister about my depression today but i feel like she didn’t really understand the severity. yes i wanna kms but at the same time i don’t wanna die. i think it’s called suicidal ideation but i feel like it’s becoming more. more to the point where i think i do need help. i would go to the doctor but i’ve lied about being okay forever so long i feel like i wouldn’t be taken seriously enough to get on anti depressants. i just don’t know anymore and i feel like im weeks away from doing sum to myself but at the same time i wouldn’t want to do nun to myself? can someone just pls tell me what i can do. (please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes)might delete later.

english is not my native language.
to begin with, my wife (let's call her claire) is the most caring, intelligent, and beautiful woman i know. i really love her; i want to spend my old age with her, and i cannot deny that she is a good person and has many positive traits. however, i sincerely believe that she should not become a mother because of her strange and even creepy relationship with her parents.
when we first met, i was a little confused that claire was very reluctant to talk about her family and called her mother and stepfather (who raised her from infancy) by their first names and not "mom" and "dad," but in the end, i decided that each family has its own rules, and this isn't my business. at that time, she never celebrated birthdays at home, lived with friends on vacation, and generally avoided any meetings with her parents in every possible way. i can't even remember a single time when they texted for more than three minutes or talked on the phone. even then, it all seemed very strange to me, but claire didn't want to talk about it.
a few years later, she cut off all communication with all members of her family except her younger sister. when they tried to contact her, she silently blocked them. she never explained the reasons to me, but judging by what her sister told me, claire hated her stepfather from childhood because he physically punished her and could not forgive her mother for marrying him. i DON'T condone such parenting methods, but hey, when we were growing up, everyone was physically punished; it was normal, and no one hated their parents for it. she would do the same if she were in their place, and it's just immature to condemn them for it. she's an adult, and it's amazing to me that a reasonable person like her puts childhood grudges above family. but claire flatly refused to invite her parents to our wedding and even offered to end the engagement when i insisted on at least sending them a photo from the ceremony (they never received anything).
a couple of years ago, when her sister told claire that their mother had died, she just shrugged, said "bye," and went to watch the show. it came as a shock to me, actually. actions are one thing, but emotions are another. no one can control it. she can stay away from her family if she want to, but there's nothing normal about not feeling at least the slightest bit of grief when your mother dies. even bad parents are usually loved by their children.
so when she suggested i have a baby, i said it was a bad idea. i listed all the things i wrote about here and told her that i just didn't think she was cut out to be a mother. she's still a good person. she's a wonderful woman. but she is so immature that she can just shrug her shoulders when something happens to our hypothetical child if he does something that will not suit her. she has been in therapy for years but still refuses to call her mother "mom." she doesn't consider the mother-child bond important. it was acceptable for her to leave an elderly woman. she could have abandoned the baby, too, if she thought it was necessary. it's just dangerous.
as you can understand, she didn't react to my words in the best way. i don't want her to leave, and i don't think she's a monster (as she said). i want to fix everything; i just think there are things in the world that can't be trusted with her. you can't have children when you're so immature.
was i wrong to present my thoughts in this way?

I was introduced to a guy for arranged marriage by our parents, and we decided to take the process organically. After meeting him for 4 times, I took him to a birthday party of a close friend of mine to see how he is like in social situations.
He wished my friend and sat in the middle of the party along with me and chatted with me for a bit. I then left to help my friends setup the party and chat with them. He remained there on his phone and being by himself. I didn't want to push him much because he had mentioned previously he was introverted. I didn't see him take initiative to come and connect with my friends. when i went and sat next to him before drinks round started, he was chatting with me but i still didn't see him try to connect with my friends etc., He seemed so low-key .. I asked him why he seemed detached and if he was uncomfortable being at the party .. he said well as I had told you before I like to listen and observe more in new settings. I am not sure what he meant by then but we went along. At one point, after not seeing him engage actively, me and my friends thought he was uncomfortable and he was hesitant to say it so we gently pointed him to other employees at the party from his company in case he wanted to mingle. He thanked us and continued to be low key. I again asked him if he was uncomfortable and he said he was fine and that he liked to listen and observe and that he was exhausted being there. By that point, my friends who were hosting the party felt he was not really interested in the party or them, and I became closed off to him by the end because i felt he was being cold.
I confronted him again the next day and he seemed annoyed and said as he had mentioned he liked to listen and observe and also that he was very tired because he hadn't slept well the night before the party. Another thing he said was I had told him to introduce himself as a 'friend' when he asked what to introduce himself as at the party. I meant that as a generic label to introduce himself to people who were not in the know about us being prospective partners. He said he took that to mean he had to dial down the emotional engagement and that there were no expectations at the party. And that if I had told him I was taking him to the party to assess his social skills and told him my preferences/expectations, he would have had a very different approach. He is now accusing me and my friends of pushing him around and also taking him to a party to assess him without his knowledge when he had already mentioned he was introverted. I don't know what to say - all that me and my friends were trying to do was make him comfortable and not make him feel like pushing him around. I didn't mean it to feel like a test to him - all I was trying to do was understand our social compatibility.

i don’t have anyone in my life out side of immediate family. i’ve been in a 9 month depression hole and i’ve pushed every. single. person away from me. i broke up with my ex because “ he wasn’t answering fast enough” but to be honest it’s just because i didn’t want to poison him with depression. i miss him because he truly was such an amazing person. i also have lost my best friend and i don’t think we will ever become friends again. she was my sister that the universe sent. i suppose sometimes in life you have to accept things for how they are. i wish it was different.

Forgive me if this turns into a ramble. And please forgive me if I ask anything offensive. I am truly coming from a place of love and wanting to learn and understand.
My (27F) 5yo (I’ll call them V) was born a boy, but they have expressed wanting to be a girl for about 4 months.
Been doing my best to switch the pronouns and calling her sistedaughter per her request, but still slip up sometimes. V and her little sister are good about correcting me when I do. I took V clothes shopping this week and let her lead the way where she ended up picking 3 pretty dresses and hasn’t wanted to wear anything else since.
Husband (30M) and I were both born Mormon but have been out for years mainly due to that churches sexism and anti LGBTQ beliefs. I am determined to give my kids a different upbringing than what I had and teach them to have love and respect for all by going to drag story times, pride events, and whatnot.
So if this isn’t a phase, then no issues here, but thinking about the challenges coming V’s way is freaking me out. I’m scared of the discrimination they will face. I can’t think about the suicide statistics without crying myself to sleep. I feel guilty thinking this, but this isn’t the life I want for V. Yes she’s perfect just the way she is, and I can’t help but think how her life would be easier if her sex and gender matched.
I am also feeling grateful to live in a progressive city and school district. I am grateful that she was born in her generation instead of a previous one. I am SO grateful to all of you fine people who are paving the way for a better future for all the children.
V is so goofy and the biggest ball of joy. Her life is unproblematic and I want it to stay that way for as long as it can. I want to shield her from the harshness in the world but I know that’s not possible.
What can I do as a parent to best support V and give her the best life possible? What did your parents do that helped you or what do you wish they would have done better?
How do I vet a supportive therapist?
For those of you who knew at a young age, how did you feel? What was it like coming to that realization? I want a peak into her mind haha.
I keep deleting this one because I can’t think of a way to make it not sound offensive, but I’m just going to go for it and hope there’s understanding. Do you wish you weren’t trans or are you happy you are? I’m bisexual and love that part of me, but being trans seems like a different ballpark. Maybe it’s not.
What challenges have you faced or are currently facing? What successes have you had? I don’t have much exposure but joining this sub is my first step to better understand the T in LGBTQ. I want to know your stories.
I realize I’m asking a lot but any contribution will be so so appreciated. Looking forward to all I can learn from this sub.

Okay so I’m 25 my sister called me a brat, mean, and a bully because I talked back to my dad. Keep in mind I have not insulted him, nor called him names, or tried to hurt his feelings or try to make him feel unappreciated. I would never do that. All I said to my dad was let the doctor to do her job and talk to me, (he shouldn’t of been in the room with me anyways I told him not to) and he’s wasting time acting like he’s the doctor speaking over her… to the doctor. I’m annoyed, tired, sick, just want the antibiotics for my ear infection. Prior to that he’s complaining about me being being “mindless” “not the sharpest tool in the shed” due to forgetting a lot of things meaning (a computer charger) to pack in my suit case for wedding destination spot. For my sisters wedding. Then he keeps on saying I keep on making dumb mistakes like forgetting my jacket (which I got back btw and only forget it at the club that holds it for you) I forget it due to staying out til 3 am for the bachelorette party I didn’t even want to go to at first.
Also prior to packing for this trip I was rushed due to my father hounding me to drive to his state right after my college graduation mind you they didn’t show up to due to my sisters wedding even though it’s 8 days after it. I graduated on the deans list, 3 letters of rec, with a 3 semester scholarship program award, I get a “good job, anyways” from my dad. That’s fine I know my sister’s wedding is more pressing and I don’t need the validation . But they couldn’t wait one day to travel to the destination. I didn’t make a big deal about it, it’s fine.
So yeah my dad forces me to drive right after not letting me celebrate or have a moment to breathe. He basically is losing his shit that I’m not leaving a day before even though I explained I’d be 5 hours early to the airport and I didn’t wan to drive at night. But I said fine and went. (I should’ve bought my own ticket, but he insisted. Yes I said thank you profusely though even though I told him it wouldn’t be a good day to travel.) So this leads to compressed packing from my apartment within two hours then an 8 hour drive to his state and we end up there at 4 am. It was so dangerous driving there we were so tired my gf and I. (She’s a an angel).
Now compared to our plan we were just going to drive in the morning at 5 am and make it to the Las Vegas at 1 pm, 5 hours early to my flight. The plan was we were going to have lunch after commencement, pack, do the last assignment, and go to bed early. But no we had to leave rushed leaving commencement early. The rush of packing also cost me 108 bucks due to hiring dudes to clear out some kitchen cupboard and the fridge, because the company messed up taking some of my roommate stuff she threatened me with the police so I ended up paying more while I was driving the 8 hour trip. A service supposed to be 108 ended up costing me 360 dollars.
So yeah, not having a good time arriving at our destination. I sleep super late because I’m exhausted, I had to drive most of the drive because my gf was sick. We woke up at 12:45 pm and I had to do my last assignment after waking up so late, then after 2 hours and of course I forget my toiletries/computer I was using. No time to think about little stuff. In which this all wouldn’t have been so rushed and messy if we stuck with my plan. Which would’ve allowed us to have good sleep, easily drop the boxes off, and not forget the two items for the trip. Anyways I forget the things so I’ve been called mindless, unfit to travel by myself, and criticized by my sister about talking back to my dad (which I usually never do because he’s an old Arab dude who’s a bit narcissistic/hot-head.) She also complained I don’t have enough clothes (I over packed and bought clothes for the bachelorette, but she thinks they’re not “me”) (it was a gown for a fancy show they planned. But I’m a lesbian and apparently needed something more in my style… whatever that means)
I just don’t understand why my sister would call me mean or a brat? I mean because I defend myself and am slightly irritated due to this whole situation. Keep in mind I’ve only been having having slight back and forths with my dad. I think she’s calling me a brat because my dad paid for my ticket as a grad present, but I insisted on paying myself due to the timing of graduation and so there wouldn’t be any issue of travel. I also wanted to pay for my own medicine because I don’t want the nagging accompanied by it, but my dad likes to pay for things tooth n nail just to be like “oh I did this for you”. I wish I found my own place so we weren’t butting heads, this isn’t how it was supposed to go.
Literally they said I “always” fail and prove everyone right, then they have to fix it. I’ve literally had to fix all of my own problems without their help so idk what the f they’re talking about. I was excited for my sister’s wedding but now I’m countering the minutes to just leave after. I’m tired of being seen as the loser.

I (16m)am on vacation with my family of 2 sisters (14f) (9f), mom (50f) and dad (49m). We are in Hawaii for 9's make-a-wish trip. It seems that this whole trip (and outside of this) everyone is just so mad and annoyed at me. 14 is always super rude to me, so that's not new, but she's been extra lately. And it's not like my parents do anything to stop her anyway. My dad has had very harsh responses to literally anything I do. My mom is my mom. It just seems like I am the trigger point for stress. Anything I express excitement for is met with snarky comments, I try to join in conversations? Ignored with weird looks for spice. I'm even pushed to the back of the group when just walking. None of this is new by any means, but it's getting to me a lot more lately. Any tips on how to cope or just deal with it? This is also my first post here, so I'm sorry if it's not formated correctly :).

I see a lot of hate for Leo (mostly in Crunchyroll comments and a few of my friends) and I disagree with it. Yeah he's kinda annoying and hotheaded, but he consistently puts in work when it matters. We see him grow as a duelist, and he wins two very important duels despite getting screwed over by the writers.
Exhibit A: His duel against Devack. Despite taking real damage and getting swatted around, Leo held his ground and won the duel. Yes Luna came in to take over at the end, but she didn't add any cards to the duel. Leo had the field set up for the W regardless of his sister's intervention, and I don't think he gets enough credit for it.
Exhibit B: His duel against Aporia. While this was a plot-armor duel, Leo pulling Life Stream Dragon out of his butt was the winning move. I just wish he'd actually gotten more screen time so it felt earned instead of a pity gift in the eleventh hour.
Honorable Mention: His duel against Lucciano/Lester. Yes the twins did lose this duel, but both put up a decent fight despite being super out of their element. While this was a weaker showing from Leo, he had counters to Lester's synchro-stealing and even got a few good shots in before going down.

Understanding the transgender experience can be complex and deeply personal. For many, it is a journey filled with challenges, self-discovery, and moments of profound transformation. This article shares my own journey as a transgender woman, aiming to provide insight and understanding. By recounting my experiences, I hope to offer a glimpse into what it means to be transgender, highlight the struggles and triumphs that come with this identity, and foster greater empathy and support for others on similar paths.
My awareness of being transgender began when I was just three years old at a birthday party. A magician was performing, and I innocently asked him to use his "magic" to turn me into a girl. This request was met with laughter, leaving me feeling embarrassed and ashamed. This early memory marks the beginning of my journey toward understanding and accepting my true self.
For me, being transgender means aligning my physical appearance with the self-image I hold in my mind. It means achieving a level of comfort and authenticity in my own body that was previously absent. It also transforms the way others perceive and interact with me. As people see me as a woman, they treat me accordingly, which has been both affirming and challenging.
During my childhood, I was often confused and embarrassed by my feelings. As I reached my teenage years, those feelings evolved into hurt and anger as testosterone began to alter my body in ways that felt deeply wrong. I watched with envy as my female classmates blossomed into their identities, becoming more beautiful and feminine, while I became increasingly hairy, bulky, and rough.
In my twenties and early thirties, I tried to conform to societal expectations of masculinity. I grew a beard, built muscle, and shaved my head, attempting to fit into a role that felt entirely foreign to me. Despite my best efforts, I was never truly happy. Then, I met someone who saw me for who I really was and encouraged me to embrace my true self. Their support was transformative, and a little over two years ago, I began hormone replacement therapy (HRT). Since then, every day has presented new challenges, from learning how to shop for clothes to mastering makeup and adopting the mannerisms that reflect the woman I am inside.
Being transgender has profoundly impacted my relationships. My partner loves having a female partner, and we share an intimacy and closeness that I never experienced when presenting as male. Female friends treat me as one of their own, offering a level of platonic closeness that eluded me before. My in-laws accept and love me unconditionally, grateful for the happiness I bring to their daughter. My own family is more complicated, with younger members showing acceptance and older ones ranging from denial to outright hostility, compounded by past traumas.
Professionally, working in tech has been a blessing, as the industry is one of the most progressive regarding diversity and inclusion. My employer respects and supports my identity, creating an environment where I can thrive. Society at large is a mixed bag; while I occasionally encounter bigotry, I am generally treated as a woman when my "gender performance" aligns with societal expectations.
The most rewarding aspect of being transgender has been the deep, authentic connections I have formed. Women share a world with me that was previously inaccessible, while men often treat me with a protective kindness, free from the pressures of toxic masculinity. In turn, I can engage with male friends on a more intimate level, helping to break down their own barriers to vulnerability.
Looking to the future, I see a long journey ahead. Socially, my transition feels mostly complete, but medically, I have a ways to go. HRT, like puberty, can take years to fully manifest its effects. Additionally, there are numerous surgeries to consider, each complex and expensive. Starting my transition in my mid-thirties has added challenges, as I work to reverse over 30 years of testosterone's impact. While HRT has been kind, aiding me in reaching a small B cup, my frame would benefit from further procedures to achieve the hourglass figure I desire. My facial features, while generally feminine, could also use some softening.
The question of bottom surgery is one that many are curious about. For now, it doesn't feel pressing to me. While there are moments of dysphoria, the risks and complexities of the surgery make it a daunting prospect. Still, there are times when I look in the mirror and wish for a more typical female anatomy.
Being transgender is a deeply personal journey, marked by struggles and triumphs. It is about becoming who I truly am, embracing my identity, and navigating the complexities of a world that is still learning to accept people like me. Despite the challenges, I am grateful for the support I have found and the progress I have made

Understanding the transgender experience can be complex and deeply personal. For many, it is a journey filled with challenges, self-discovery, and moments of profound transformation. This article shares my own journey as a transgender woman, aiming to provide insight and understanding. By recounting my experiences, I hope to offer a glimpse into what it means to be transgender, highlight the struggles and triumphs that come with this identity, and foster greater empathy and support for others on similar paths.
My awareness of being transgender began when I was just three years old at a birthday party. A magician was performing, and I innocently asked him to use his "magic" to turn me into a girl. This request was met with laughter, leaving me feeling embarrassed and ashamed. This early memory marks the beginning of my journey toward understanding and accepting my true self.
For me, being transgender means aligning my physical appearance with the self-image I hold in my mind. It means achieving a level of comfort and authenticity in my own body that was previously absent. It also transforms the way others perceive and interact with me. As people see me as a woman, they treat me accordingly, which has been both affirming and challenging.
During my childhood, I was often confused and embarrassed by my feelings. As I reached my teenage years, those feelings evolved into hurt and anger as testosterone began to alter my body in ways that felt deeply wrong. I watched with envy as my female classmates blossomed into their identities, becoming more beautiful and feminine, while I became increasingly hairy, bulky, and rough.
In my twenties and early thirties, I tried to conform to societal expectations of masculinity. I grew a beard, built muscle, and shaved my head, attempting to fit into a role that felt entirely foreign to me. Despite my best efforts, I was never truly happy. Then, I met someone who saw me for who I really was and encouraged me to embrace my true self. Their support was transformative, and a little over two years ago, I began hormone replacement therapy (HRT). Since then, every day has presented new challenges, from learning how to shop for clothes to mastering makeup and adopting the mannerisms that reflect the woman I am inside.
Being transgender has profoundly impacted my relationships. My partner loves having a female partner, and we share an intimacy and closeness that I never experienced when presenting as male. Female friends treat me as one of their own, offering a level of platonic closeness that eluded me before. My in-laws accept and love me unconditionally, grateful for the happiness I bring to their daughter. My own family is more complicated, with younger members showing acceptance and older ones ranging from denial to outright hostility, compounded by past traumas.
Professionally, working in tech has been a blessing, as the industry is one of the most progressive regarding diversity and inclusion. My employer respects and supports my identity, creating an environment where I can thrive. Society at large is a mixed bag; while I occasionally encounter bigotry, I am generally treated as a woman when my "gender performance" aligns with societal expectations.
The most rewarding aspect of being transgender has been the deep, authentic connections I have formed. Women share a world with me that was previously inaccessible, while men often treat me with a protective kindness, free from the pressures of toxic masculinity. In turn, I can engage with male friends on a more intimate level, helping to break down their own barriers to vulnerability.
Looking to the future, I see a long journey ahead. Socially, my transition feels mostly complete, but medically, I have a ways to go. HRT, like puberty, can take years to fully manifest its effects. Additionally, there are numerous surgeries to consider, each complex and expensive. Starting my transition in my mid-thirties has added challenges, as I work to reverse over 30 years of testosterone's impact. While HRT has been kind, aiding me in reaching a small B cup, my frame would benefit from further procedures to achieve the hourglass figure I desire. My facial features, while generally feminine, could also use some softening.
The question of bottom surgery is one that many are curious about. For now, it doesn't feel pressing to me. While there are moments of dysphoria, the risks and complexities of the surgery make it a daunting prospect. Still, there are times when I look in the mirror and wish for a more typical female anatomy.
Being transgender is a deeply personal journey, marked by struggles and triumphs. It is about becoming who I truly am, embracing my identity, and navigating the complexities of a world that is still learning to accept people like me. Despite the challenges, I am grateful for the support I have found and the progress I have made

It had been a long time. A long while, indeed, since the hives were removed from Nostramo. In their place came the endless fields of corn, the unwavering sway of the stalks as they rose out of the land. Of course, any person who knew Nostramo knew that this world wasn't truly the Planet of Darkness; it simply shared a name by sheer coincidence. This world was bright, temperate, and fertile. No pollution clogged the rivers and skies, even as bulk machines designed for the sole purpose of moving unimaginable quantities of grain to and fro went about their business. Humanity had learned long ago that the sun was necessary for crops to flourish, so the expense to keep the world clean was made. Nostramo was a world of life. It had to be in order to survive.
Scarecrows, intended to thwart the predations of hungry birds, rose tall above even the crops. They, by themselves, were hardly effective. The birds were too wise to be frightened by inanimate sticks. What was effective, at least for this one tiny part of the world, was the plate the scarecrow had been adorned with. The armor was a faded sapphire, somewhere between the blues of an ocean and the blue of old Nostramo's skies. Yet, the plate was marred with the scars of time. The blue had been worn away by the passage of years with no protection from the elements, and cracks and crevices from battle were many and they were deep. The passage of centuries had only worsened them. Now, it hardly even resembled armor, despite its once-mastercrafted artifice. It was a shadow of its former self. Glory—if the ceramite plates ever truly knew glory—was long gone, now. Rivets that once held pieces of flayed skin and the bones of poor, unfortunate souls now rested happily empty.
There was also a house. It was a simple prefabricated hab unit, only sized up to accommodate a being far larger than any normal human. Time had worn it down, too, but the rockcrete remained strong even as the white paint that once gave it a dash of vibrancy had peeled away and left only a stone gray visage. The roof was little more than a slightly tilted set of squares, designed to remove rain while only necessitating the bare minimum of extra material. Some parts of the unit were splotched with yellow pollen, and an odd vine curled up the side, almost making the place appear rustic.
And a woman emerged. She was tall. Unnervingly so. Even with the enlarged door, she risked slamming her head into the doorframe if she did not exercise caution. Her black hair was tied into a simple braid, though it was long enough to reach the small of her back. Scars—deep ones—crowded the area around her mouth like unwanted guests. Her clothes were simple and unrefined; a plain gray tunic and an unimpressive skirt covered her from her neck to her ankles, leaving only her head and arms exposed. She wore boots underneath it all, but one could only cast small glimpses of them from between the hem of her skirt and the length of the grass she tread upon.
Kassandra Curze was a woman long forgotten. Once, she had been known as the Night Haunter. A long time ago, she had sought justice and enacted it in whichever way she saw fit. Once, she had been seen as a woman who no one could trust. She was a tool to be maintained, to be utilized and then discarded when the work was done. Not any longer. For all anyone knew, the Night Haunter was dead.
She had heard stories, of course, of the Galaxy beyond Nostramo. She knew of her sister Guilliman's return and the wars she fought, how the Avenging Daughter of the Imperium bloodied her hands to keep Mankind safe. Kassandra knew of this. She knew that men and women who called themselves her children died every day, trying to enact the will of a Primarch they believed long dead. Her will.
"Redeem us," she had said. "Protect Mankind."
She sighed as the memories rushed back into her. Yet, despite the pain of those recollections, she spared a half-smile. If she was looking back, it meant she was not looking forward. She had not had a vision in millennia. It was one of many blessings she believed she did not deserve. Yet, she took them, fearing the alternative. Better to bask in rewards unearned than to be soaked in the just punishments. Truthfully, she feared justice. She had no delusions against the reality that, if anyone deserved to be burnt alive or hanged from a rope, it was her.
Yet she still lived. She lived here, by sheer coincidence, on a planet called Nostramo that was not Nostramo. She tended to crops. She repaired bulk movers and operated servo-harvesters. She could predict what the weather in three weeks was going to look like just by smelling the air. Her crops contributed to the war efforts, and she made her contribution to the tithe. She had been doing that for thousands of years. Surely, she had done more for the Imperium than most women could do. Surely she had earned some small piece of redemption, just by staying still and not hurting anyone. Just by eating and drinking alone, without anybody to injure or torture with her presence.
As she made her way toward the field, she whispered to herself, "The Night Haunter is dead."
The stalks were tall enough that they would have surpassed even an armored space marine in height, but she stood a head taller than them. If she looked out while standing in the field, she could see the horizons in all directions, with only a few odd hab units breaking up the perfect solitude of the endless sea of grain. Birds who made their nests amidst the fields swooped around. There were cats who lived in the fields, Kassandra knew. They were put there to hunt the birds, who ate both the crops and the insects who lived on them. She had always wanted to touch one of them, but they refused to draw near, even at the promise of food.
She slipped through the fields with the grace of a butterfly and began to examine the crops. The ones in section 1-A were in good condition. 1-B was struggling with a stalkbeetle infestation. She would have to requistion some pesticide. 1-C was good. 1-D flourished. 1-E was beautiful. She kept going through the sections of her field, scanning for any possible variance, any discrepancy that she needed to be concerned about. The administratum believed that there was a team of ten workers living in her hab unit. They were wrong, but she could do the work of ten men and then still have time left in the day to do other things.
When she finished the final section assigned to her, she departed from the field. She went home. She sat in her empty bedroom (if an empty chamber could be called that) and meditated. She could always feel the pricks of the future gnawing at her mind, trying to force their way in, but something stopped them. Even as her subconscious tried to skim the threads of time, it refused to delve into the deeper waters. Even if she tried to see something, she could not. Her foresight had left her.
Meditation was not something that had come naturally for her. She was once a being who was so utterly lost in her own torment that the idea of any self-reflection physically pained her. When she first struggled with those memories, the attacks had come. Moments where she could not breathe, even though there was air and her superhuman physique should have meant she could have survived even in the vacuum of space. Moments where she felt so small and vulnerable, despite her giant frame and overwhelming strength. Her heart racing even faster than it did in battle because when she was fighting she was in control of herself. When she fought the beast in her mind, she was not in control.
But that hurdle, though it had taken centuries to overcome, was simply an obstacle, and there was no task one of the Emperor's Daughters could not complete. Not that she took any pride in being related to the Emperor, of course; she simply saw the reality.
She opened her eyes. As her mind returned to the sensations of the world, she whispered to herself, "The Night Haunter is dead."
She left her bedroom and went to the kitchen. This was the one luxury she afforded herself, to honor the one person who had ever taken the time to know her. They had loved to bake, so she learned as well. Anyone, given thousands of years with which to practice, would become skilled in any craft.
Soon, the smell of freshly-baked pies and bread wafted out of her open windows. There was no one to smell them, and no one to share them with. She ate alone. Loaves of bread, fruit pies, chocolate tarts, and jams and butters with which to garnish them were all devoured quickly. She could taste every last flavor, could perfect every single modicum of sweetness until it practically melted away in a cloud of bliss, but she never enjoyed this part. It reminded her of all the things she did not have, and then she disliked herself for wanting more mercies than she had already been granted.
Then, when she was done eating and the sun was set, she went to sleep on the floor. Then she woke up the next day.
And she did it all again. Over and over again, without fail, without the slightest instance of change. It was peaceful.
A knock came on her door while she was baking. They called her name, not the false name the governor's inspectors knew her by. It was a woman's voice, boisterous and grizzled. Instantly, she knew who the voice belonged to: Leona El'Jonson. There were other women who sounded like that, but none could match the timbre of the Lion. Kassandra knew it as though the sound were engraved into her very soul.
She pulled a knife from the cabinet. For a normal human, it would have been the size of a longsword.
She whispered to herself as she approached the door slowly, "The Night Haunter is dead."
The door opened, and she saw the Primarch of the First Legion. She was wearing her armor. She was unarmed, however, and she looked... older. Her once pristine blonde hair was flecked with gray. The shadows of wrinkles pulled at her features, like a normal woman in her late thirties. And the steel daggers her eyes once held weren't there. Her face was almost... soft.
"Curze," the Lion said. Her voice, at least, hadn't changed.
"El'Jonson," Kassandra responded.
The sisters looked at each other. Kassandra realized with a chill that the Lion looked awkward. There was no certainty in the woman's eyes. Not like there had been during the Heresy or the Scouring. Not like there had been during the Great Crusade.
Was this really Leona El'Jonson?
"You look different," the Lion commented. "Much calmer. Peaceful."
Kassandra just stared. Surely, the knife in her hand—she had it hidden behind the doorframe—had not escaped her sister's notice. The Lion knew it was there, right?
Then, as the Lion's eyes burrowed into her own, she understood that yes, she did know. What was she thinking? Leona El'Jonson was never a deceitful woman. She had never once told a lie, and her coming to this house unarmed meant she had no intention of causing a ruckus. At least, not yet.
It meant she was vulnerable. Kassandra could get rid of her now. She could plunge the knife into the 1st's throat and no one would ever know. She knew, without her even saying, why she was here. She wanted to bring her back. She wanted her to fight. She wanted her to be at the head of the Night Lords again, to fight against the enemies of the Imperium like she had ten millennia ago. One simple murder would end this before it even began. First it was the Lion, then it would be Guilliman. Then it would be Dorn, maybe, or Corax. Maybe even Aurelia would come down and beg her to turn coat.
No. No more.
Kassandra's brow furrowed in agitation. "I'm staying here. The Night Haunter is dead."
The Lion looked back at her with a thoughtful expression on her face. She pinched the bridge of her nose anxiously—a new habit; perhaps she picked it up from Guilliman—and asked, "May I come in?"
She wanted to say no. More than anything, she wanted to say no. But she smelled the peanut butter pie from the kitchen that she knew she would normally have eaten by herself and something cracked. Something poked at her eyes, then. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that she hadn't experienced in millennia. She kept her face even, but her mouth betrayed her: "Yes," she answered.
She guided the Lion into the kitchen and stabbed the knife into the cutting board—a warning—then she pulled out a chair for her sister to sit in. The table was far larger than a woman living alone needed. Thirty-seven chairs, all evenly spaced, rested in a perfect circle around the table. Pies and loaves of bread adorned it like decorations, despite their smell. These details did not escape the Lion's notice as she sat down. "I did not take you for the sentimental type, Curze."
"I am not," Kassandra responded. She pulled another set of pies out of the oven—lemon—and moved them to the table.
The Lion spared one last gaze at the expansive table and the feast that had been laid out before her and chanced a sad smile. "No. No, you're not."
Kassandra handed her sister a plate, a knife, a spoon, and a fork, then sat down. She pulled a slice of apple pie onto her plate, then slapped a dollop of ice cream onto it. She then grabbed one of the seasoned loaves of bread and set it down next to her plate. "Eat," she said. "They're better fresh."
There was discomfort in the way the Lion picked items to add to her plate. She placed a cinnamon roll in front of her, took small bites of it until it was gone, then quietly grabbed another. The sisters, for a time, ate in silence.
Almost, Kassandra wished the Lion would just eat her sweets and leave. She hoped El'Jonson would get the picture: Kassandra Curze was a new woman, living a life that she wanted, not the one that had been forced onto her. But, of course, she had to ask. "Why are you here, El'Jonson?"
The response came quickly. The Lion seemed to ease up, the territory becoming more familiar than sitting quietly and eating sweets. "I came to fetch you."
Kassandra set her fork down with a distinct clink. She stood and pulled a jar of strawberry jam from her cabinet. "Would you like some?"
Anger began to spread across the Lion's face. "You mock me."
"What if I do? What are you going to do about it, El'Jonson? Are you going to send your Angels here to destroy my crops and raze my home to the ground? Such measures are not beneath you." Kassandra's tone was even and controlled. Her heart, however, began to race. Thoughts began to swarm her, too many to control. What if she were persuaded? What if the Lion forces her? What if she destroys her new Nostramo just to get her to leave? What if she already informed her Legion, and her children are on their way to take her back to the wars?
She turned back to the cabinet to put the jam away.
"The Imperium is dying, Curze. It is split asunder. I've yet to even see Guilliman, but she and I are the only ones left, aside from you."
"What?" Kassandra wheeled around to face her sister. She looked for some semblance of dishonesty in the Lion's face, but there was none. She told the truth. "Only us three remain?"
"All the others are dead or missing. Even Aurelia has disappeared, gone in pursuit of Little Light. There is no one left to fight."
"Even Sanguinia?"
"I'm told she has not left Baal since her Dove died during the Siege of Terra." The Lion looked weary for a moment. "I'm sorry, Curze. I wish our reunion could have been done under better circumstances, but-"
"Better circumstances?"
The Lion looked shocked, both by the sentiment that had come out of her own mouth and by the venom with which Kassandra had spewed her reply. Her body tensed, preparing for a fight.
"For ten thousand years, I have tended to this farm. I have not harmed a soul in all that time. I have done my duty as a citizen of the Imperium. I have done everything in my power to make sure that my sins are wiped away, and all you do to wipe away my grievances with you are some honeyed words of apology for bothering me? Odd for you, granted, but no less unwanted. Perhaps I should have turned coat with Aurelia when I had the chance. Then, at least, my wishes would be treated with some respect."
The Lion, taken aback, sighed. "Kassandra." She stood and moved around the table toward Kassandra, doing her best to make the motion seem gentle. She wanted to appear kind. "I made mistakes. Too many to count. I hurt my children, I hurt my loved one, and I hurt you. I see that now. Every day, I wish I had not."
Kassandra watched as tears slipped down Leona El'Jonson's face. She watched as the stone slab of a woman began to cry. Wetness made lines down the 1st Primarch's face, leaving stains that would take hours to leave her skin. Even as she cried, however, her face remained still.
The shock manifested in half-spoken words. "Leona, what are you-"
"I know I have no right to come down to your home and ask you to take up your sword again. I know you have found a measure of peace here. Believe me when I say I do not want to destroy that. To destroy this." She motioned to the sweets arrayed on the table. This was the closest thing the sisters had ever been to being a family. Suddenly, Kassandra knew that Leona understood. "This is what all of us have been fighting for all of this time. A chance to be together. We might not have said it, but that is what really caused all of this. Our chance to be a family has passed us by, but we can stop others from feeling that pain. The Imperium is made up of daughters and sons. Of mothers and fathers. Of brothers and sisters. I fight to protect them, Curze, and so do your children."
Finally, something to pick at. "You lie. The Night Lords would never-"
"The VIIIth has changed. They have taken your words to heart, Kassandra."
"What are you talking about?"
Leona reminded her of words that she had not heard for millennia. "Protect Mankind. That is what you told them, isn't it? All this time, they have followed the words of their Primarch."
"You... You're lying. That Legion of madmen would never listen to me. It's impossible. El'Jonson, you are lying to me!"
"I am not."
"You are. You've come to take me back to them. They want me to lead them, to be the lunatic that leads their merry band of insane scum. I refuse. I refuse to play that role again. The Night Haunter is dead! She is dead!"
"Kassandra Curze!"
The shout stopped Kassandra. She turned away from Leona and looked into the empty sink, seeing her reflection in the metal basin. "The Night Haunter is dead."
"I do not want the Night Haunter. I want you, Kassandra. But we must go soon. Beyond Nostramo, the Galaxy burns. It needs you."
As she stared into the basin, Kassandra had a vision. She watched as she gazed into the eyes of Leona, with the 1st plunging knife into her throat. The knife currently resting in her cutting board. She watched, with cloudy eyes, as she squirmed and fought only to be overpowered by her armored sister. The 1st came here to kill her. She is a traitor.
She reached for the knife.
For a brief moment, she felt something touch her hand. It was a feeling she had not felt in a long time. She smelled the sweets on the table. She listened to the swaying of the fields outside. She felt her own breath, moving in and out gently. She looked at her sister, stern as ever. She heard a voice. Stop, my love, it said. I am here. I will keep you safe.
She stopped herself from replying. She knew it was just a trick of the mind. It was a hallucination to be ignored. Her lover was dead.
Leona came over and grabbed her. At some point, Kassandra had fallen to the ground. She had her arms wrapped around her, squeezing her tightly. What was she doing? Was she trying to suffocate her? Was this an attempted murder?
Then the memories. The flashes of warmth, of love. The brief moments of respite amidst the sea of pain. She remembered her love, and how they used to hold her. How they used to hug her, to embrace her with their little arms and somehow make her feel like she wasn't the worst woman in the universe. She felt Leona holding her tightly, securely, like she was afraid to let go, and she felt that again.
And, for the first time in ten thousand years, Kassanadra Curze cried.
As she cried, she had another vision.
There was a house. It was a simple prefabricated hab unit, only sized up to accommodate beings far larger than any normal human, but also large enough to hold a lot of people. There was a fresh coat of white paint on the outside, and inside there were many rooms. There was a bedroom with a large bed fit for a Primarch and her lover. There was a nursery painted dark blue, like the midnight sky hanging over Nostramo. There was a kitchen, where Kassandra was hard at work making pie and bread and other baked goods. There was the sound of happy mingling coming from the dining room, where the table was already stacked full with food. And, filling all of the chairs, were her family. Smiling. Happy. Together.
And her belly was swollen with the light of new life. And as she carried the last pie into the dining room, she felt the warm gazes of her sisters, of their spouses, of her father, and of her love, and she smiled.
Then she was back in reality. She looked at Leona.
"This dream that I have," she said. "Is it worth fighting for?"
Leona placed her forehead against Kassandra's. "If even Kassandra Curze can have hope, then Humanity's dream is not yet dead." She pulled away, "But to reach that, we must fight."
Kassandra looked out her window. She saw her old armor hanging on the scarecrow, as beat up as it was. "Tell me," she began, "where is my Legion?"

Do you think im exaggerating? So i’m a single mom livng with my mom and her husband not my real dad. I would like to move out soon bc i feel controlled, parenting boundries between my child and them getting in the way, and more stuff. I feel like a child there. But anyways. For a while now I have had feelings of being watched at home. I live upstairs with my daughter. Downstairs there are two cameras. One in the kitchen and liviing room that points towars upstairs. Last night i found a hidden camera in the hallway upstairs that points towards my room and my bathroom. I asked my mom without her husband being there if she knew there was a hidden camera upstairs. She said no. And acted suprised but kinda of brushed it off saying her husband was thinking of putting a camera upstairs to watch the renters not enter my room. (They were going to rent a room upstairs for a man, friend of her husband, but he ended up not living here..) So i said but why didn’t i know about it. And why put it when the renter is not even here yet. She didnt care about my opinion. i had a feeling she would not care about it. So i said thats why i want to move out. Then hanged up the phone. She later gets home and knocks on my room woth her husband and tells him to tell me about the camera. He said they put it there so they can check if i leave the light off. I said why. I pay rent and help with the bills. I should have known for privacy. Sometimes i get out the shower with just my towel. Well my mom started yelljng at me that they didn’t tell me bc they knew i would get mad. And i was just crying and mad. She said thats her home and her rules. I said ok but im not going to stay anymore bc i don’t like that. She then started yelling at me saying im ungrateful that shes helped me with my daughter. She told my sister that she will no longer babysit my daughter if i move out. I just wish I would have known about the hidden camera. I understand its her house.

Understanding the transgender experience can be complex and deeply personal. For many, it is a journey filled with challenges, self-discovery, and moments of profound transformation. This article shares my own journey as a transgender woman, aiming to provide insight and understanding. By recounting my experiences, I hope to offer a glimpse into what it means to be transgender, highlight the struggles and triumphs that come with this identity, and foster greater empathy and support for others on similar paths.
My awareness of being transgender began when I was just three years old at a birthday party. A magician was performing, and I innocently asked him to use his "magic" to turn me into a girl. This request was met with laughter, leaving me feeling embarrassed and ashamed. This early memory marks the beginning of my journey toward understanding and accepting my true self.
For me, being transgender means aligning my physical appearance with the self-image I hold in my mind. It means achieving a level of comfort and authenticity in my own body that was previously absent. It also transforms the way others perceive and interact with me. As people see me as a woman, they treat me accordingly, which has been both affirming and challenging.
During my childhood, I was often confused and embarrassed by my feelings. As I reached my teenage years, those feelings evolved into hurt and anger as testosterone began to alter my body in ways that felt deeply wrong. I watched with envy as my female classmates blossomed into their identities, becoming more beautiful and feminine, while I became increasingly hairy, bulky, and rough.
In my twenties and early thirties, I tried to conform to societal expectations of masculinity. I grew a beard, built muscle, and shaved my head, attempting to fit into a role that felt entirely foreign to me. Despite my best efforts, I was never truly happy. Then, I met someone who saw me for who I really was and encouraged me to embrace my true self. Their support was transformative, and a little over two years ago, I began hormone replacement therapy (HRT). Since then, every day has presented new challenges, from learning how to shop for clothes to mastering makeup and adopting the mannerisms that reflect the woman I am inside.
Being transgender has profoundly impacted my relationships. My partner loves having a female partner, and we share an intimacy and closeness that I never experienced when presenting as male. Female friends treat me as one of their own, offering a level of platonic closeness that eluded me before. My in-laws accept and love me unconditionally, grateful for the happiness I bring to their daughter. My own family is more complicated, with younger members showing acceptance and older ones ranging from denial to outright hostility, compounded by past traumas.
Professionally, working in tech has been a blessing, as the industry is one of the most progressive regarding diversity and inclusion. My employer respects and supports my identity, creating an environment where I can thrive. Society at large is a mixed bag; while I occasionally encounter bigotry, I am generally treated as a woman when my "gender performance" aligns with societal expectations.
The most rewarding aspect of being transgender has been the deep, authentic connections I have formed. Women share a world with me that was previously inaccessible, while men often treat me with a protective kindness, free from the pressures of toxic masculinity. In turn, I can engage with male friends on a more intimate level, helping to break down their own barriers to vulnerability.
Looking to the future, I see a long journey ahead. Socially, my transition feels mostly complete, but medically, I have a ways to go. HRT, like puberty, can take years to fully manifest its effects. Additionally, there are numerous surgeries to consider, each complex and expensive. Starting my transition in my mid-thirties has added challenges, as I work to reverse over 30 years of testosterone's impact. While HRT has been kind, aiding me in reaching a small B cup, my frame would benefit from further procedures to achieve the hourglass figure I desire. My facial features, while generally feminine, could also use some softening.
The question of bottom surgery is one that many are curious about. For now, it doesn't feel pressing to me. While there are moments of dysphoria, the risks and complexities of the surgery make it a daunting prospect. Still, there are times when I look in the mirror and wish for a more typical female anatomy.
Being transgender is a deeply personal journey, marked by struggles and triumphs. It is about becoming who I truly am, embracing my identity, and navigating the complexities of a world that is still learning to accept people like me. Despite the challenges, I am grateful for the support I have found and the progress I have made

just some brief context before I start. I have 3 half siblings through my dad, 2 brothers and 1 sister. All are/were heavy addicts, 1 brother has 8 kids from different women, all of them only really hit my parents up for money and still owe them while i have never borrowed money. They are all 25-35 years older than me. We are all out of state.
I (26F) am my parents golden child. Only one to graduate Hs, got my BS in engineering and have bought my own house about 1.5 years ago and I am supporting myself. I moved out of state about. 2.5 years ago for a job and a pretty big company and I currently live with my bf. A few weeks ago on mothers day my mom told me that my dad had mistaken her anger being due to none of the kids coming home for mothers day when she was upset that he hadn't planned anything. He apparently said "fuck those kids, I am done with them. They arent out here, Blah blah blah" and that honestly really hurt that he had me included in that sentence. I know because my mom verified that for me. It hurt because I am the only kid, since i was able to drive and make money. who has always made sure they have gifts every holiday, every birthday, their stocking are filled and gifts under the tree. I have text them every night to say goodnight since I moved out of state, I call them at least once or twice weekly. I have been home for every Christmas and every Thanksgiving except for last year because we spent it with my boyfriends family. My bf and I always make sure to make it to family vacations when invited too. Needless to say, I put in A LOT of effort to make sure I do what I can. So needless to say it didn't make me feel appreciated. Late last year I had gotten into a pretty bad car wreck which really messed up my back. I am going in for my 3rd procedure since February for it, so between the Dr's visits, work, and managing pain to handle a 3 hour flight, I haven't had a chance to go home. Also, the first whole year i was out here my parents never visited me once. Just tonight I was only a call with my parents when they made a comment about how "they were trying to figure out where they fit in the family". This irritated me but I pushed it aside and told them that they were always welcome here to which my mom told me the road goes both ways. This really sent me over the edge but I managed to keep my cool until we hung up. But I am back to how I was feeling on mothers day. They know I am in pain. But also, that flights are expensive. I am trying to save up and make a good base for My own family I want to start. As much as I'd like to stay with my parents, I'd also need to get a hotel room. I had to leave my Husky with them because I couldn't bring myself to bring him along when I don't have a yard for him to run around in. Only problem is that my parents don't really clean deep enough to keep to the dog smell at bay and I nearly went to the hospital during Christmas due to an ongoing migraine that wouldn't go away due to my allergy to dogs. ( we got the Husky before I developed an allergy but if everything is kept clean then it doesn't cause a reaction). So I'm just sitting here hurt and mad and wondering why is it always the golden child that gets the shit treatment? After all the effort I put in, everything I do to get their approval, and it'll just never be enough. It honestly makes me not want to try anymore in hopes that my efforts will be appreciated in their disappearance. But I know it'll go over their heads and it'll never happen.
Thanks for listening, just needed to get the hurt and anger off my chest

For my birthday, I got Miss Dior perfume aswell as a puppy. I had known this puppy for awhile and she was at my house before I learned I was actually allowed to keep her. Prior to learning this, she was a fussy little pup who didn't want to be held for long (just like her siblings). When opening presents, I got the Miss Dior perfume and had sprayed a bit on my forearm. Not long after I learned about the puppy and someone handed her to me. After that, she was perfectly fine with being in my arms and seemed especially eager for my attention. She'd jump over and push her siblings whenever I went near their play pen, run straight to me whenever let loose, chill whenever I held her, and also would sit and whine for me to go back to her. It was a weird moment of "do you understand that you are now my dog or do you just like the fact that I have this strong perfume on and you've never smelt any before now?" Even my sister told me the pupper had started to smell just like the perfume. I thought this story was worth posting.
(I'm naming her Eevee and she seems to like it!) (( Is there a reason she likes the scent?))

Hello Reddit-this is more of a rant (trigger warning) but I guess if anyone feels similarly maybe they can also find comfort in not being alone or offer advice.
I do not know what is wrong with me, lately I feel like I’ve been coasting through life. I am constantly overthinking, struggling to sleep, unmotivated, and exhausted.
I am exhausted from constantly being rejected from jobs. I feel like such a loser constantly applying and being rejected. Whenever I am asked about what I am doing post-grad (recently graduated) I literally get so embarrassed saying how I do not know. Everyone seems to know what they’re doing and yet I do not.
This feeling of rejection has since submerged itself into other realms of my life, including my relationships. I realized I am constantly the least favorite friend, I organize birthdays or write heartfelt messages yet when it comes to mine they forget. Today was my birthday, over half of my friends who I’ve written cards for or organized plans had forgotten to even send me a text. I am never the friend chosen first in plans, I am the one who is left out of the group chat or last minute pity invited. My sorority did a senior groupchat that was created by exec and yet I was forgotten to be put in. When they realized for the Bar-Crawl it was too late, they were all matching and I was there awkwardly not included. They said hi to me (so I know they knew) and proceeded to whisper about it then cut me in line at the bar as if I didn’t exist.
I feel like my boyfriend is losing feelings for me (despite him saying he isn’t) because he has been acting distant (or at least I feel like he is). I’m about to visit him for two months (he lives in a different country) but I keep getting so anxious he is going to just break up with me randomly. I literally had to beg him to write me a card for my birthday, when in the beginning of our relationship he would write me letters. He says he is more of an actions kind of person but it is hard to feel reassured when we are so far apart for longer periods of time. I ask him to be more open with his feelings (I tend to need more reassurance than the normal person because of past abuse trauma) so I understand the frustration on his end. I just sometimes wish that he would write me a letter or a card without being hinted at it (since he forgot Christmas and Valentine’s Day).
Honestly I am just so done. I am so tired and I feel so weak for not being able to pull the trigger and follow through. I just want a break from everything, I want things to go well just for a little bit. I know this is starting to sound like a self pity party I’m sorry if you have made it this far. I just don’t really know how to cope anymore, I am trying my best.