So I've (F25) been dating my BF (34M) for about 3 years. I'm from the states and he's from Canada. We started off as a LDR but we kept having insecurity problems so he asked me to move in with him until he was able to move to the states. I have major trust issues with him because in the beginning of our relationship I had set my boundaries out and he did not respect them.When we were in the talking stage, he told me he still had pictures/videos of his ex and he jerked off to them many times after they broke up, as soon as we wanted commit to a relationship, I told him he needed to delete all his pictures and videos he had of her because that makes me feel like he's not over her still. I also told him that I am against him watching porn because it makes me feel very little about myself and as if he prefers those girls over me. I told him to not get into a relationship if he thinks he can't respect that but he said he would.
To circle back, the first visit he made (when we first met) he had grabbed my ass and said I shouldn't work out too much because he doesn't like a firm ass, he likes when it jiggles-which gave me the impression that he doesn't like my ass because tbh I dont have a jiggly ass so it made me very insecure about myself. When we were LD we would have a lot of kinky talk because he preferred it so he would mention a lot about having threesomes and him fucking black girls and having their jiggly ass bounce on him and often, l couldn't take it much so I would hang up on him mid conversation because it wasn't hot to me at all and I was trying to be cool about it but it would get to me. We would fight and then make up but it took a big toll on my self esteem. Also, I'm the type of person who loves giving words of affirmation. I love complimenting him and making him known how much I'm attracted to him but he is not the same at all. We would constantly argue because I would constantly recall our sex talks and him not making me feel like he was attracted to me at all, especially after always complimenting him made me feel like we didn't view each other the same. Every time he came down to visit me since day 1, I had always found history of porn searches or old videos/ pictures on his email sent from him from a while ago of his ex. And he hesitated so bad to delete pictures because he said he didn't have any pictures of him from that time so he didn't want to get rid of the only memories he had of himself through those years of dating his ex, and he didn't want to be controlled by me when we just started dating. I told him he didn't have to delete them, he could just crop them if it meant that much for him. I just don't feel comfortable him having pictures of themselves, much less the fact that he still had sex videos of them and naked pictures of her after they broke up. Maybe it's a normal thing for guys but I would have preferred for him to been the guy that got rid of that if he was really over her.
So from constant ups and downs being LD, he said to move in with him and all will be better. He'll show how much he loves me and wants me by having sex with me everyday. I had recently quit my job before I moved to Canada and he said to not get a job and just move with him and he'll take care of my car note, phone bill and etc. (which lasted only two months) My goal was to become a corporate flight attendant and he wasn't too excited about that because he said he didn't want me to be around richer guys than him but he was supportive as he could be. Now I've been in Canada since November of 2023 and I felt like my life was passing me by because I wasn't doing anything to get closer to my goals. I don't have any family or friends here so my bf is all I got and he seemed to get annoyed of me constantly being around him and trying to hang out. He just wanted to smoke after work and be on his phone, meanwhile I was just at home not doing much but cleaning and cooking so I looked forward to him coming home so we can spend time together. After us talking things out, he decided to put me in aesthetician school because since I love skincare, he thought it'd be a great match for me as a career. All his idea. I was very appreciative and I looked forward to this new routine in life for the both of us but we had an ugly habit of sleeping late so I asked him once I start school, let's sleep early.
The night before my first day of school, he did not support that. He whined about how he isn't sleepy but I have a hard time not sleeping with him because i stay up paranoid wondering what he's doing up and not just that but his condo has paper thin walls so you could hear every little breath made and I'm a light sleeper so realizing that he was not being true to our agreement of sleeping early really upset me and that has been an ongoing thing to this day. I'm already about to finish school in the end of June but it has been a struggle managing my study and my relationship. Through out the entire time of my study, I have found out back to back that he has been watching porn. When I've confronted him about him, he tries to avoid it until I nag for the truth. First time I saw porn on his phone when living with him was on Reddit and it was all about threesomes and lesbian sex, considering my past before him he would find it hot that I had been with girls so l didn't get too offended, but still felt betrayed from him lying to me throughout the relationship when I randomly would ask him if he has watched porn and he'd swear up and down no but I forgave him. After the second, third and fourth time of constantly finding porn searches on his phone and him gaslighting me or saying it was a Reddit issue, I felt like I was just fooling myself into thinking he'll change but I wasn't ready to let go of the relationship, I cried and cried and stressed myself out and I would break up with him over it and he didn't care, he instead would go and watch more porn not caring about how it made me feel. He would apologize and say he's sorry and he won't do it again but when I wouldn't stop crying or arguing with him in less than 15mins, he would give up and go search for more porn. It ended up to the point where it wasn't just any porn anymore but women touching themselves specifically black girls- which makes me feel super insecure because it feels like he's admiring other women when I don't get admired by him at all. But I am so torn that while I'm crying about the betrayal and the relationship ending, he has the urge to go and jack off to porn and the thought of fucking other women. We stayed up a lot of times arguing and crying and him going back and forth about how sorry he was and he doesn't necessarily want those girls it was a just a rabbit hole he went down on and "he only wants me" but we're constantly fighting so I don't give him enough sex but when we don't make up and he doesn't get it his way, he's quick to searching for more. Meanwhile I'm at school with little sleep, not able to focus, he's a work searching more porn. I told him he has a problem but he says he doesn't, if just had sex with him more he wouldn't need porn. I told him I'm okay with watching porn together every now and then, I just prefer to have more intimate sex and at least feel more confident that he's attracted to me but obv right now would be too soon but he said we don't even need to watch porn, we just need to be consistent with having sex. So I decided to try to forgive him and work past it but I started to realize he kept sleeping with his phone hugged to his body, I asked him why and he said it was because he doesn't want me to go through it and get mad. I said why would I get mad? Have you been doing something that'll get me upset? And he said no so I said then he shouldn't have anything to worry about but him sleeping like that gives me reason to believe he's hiding something so if he had nothing to hide he should sleep comfortably. So l moved his phone beside him and we both dosed off but my gut was telling me I needed to check out his phone so I got up and went through it, went through his deleted msgs and saw he messaged a hooker and asked for her availability and got an address. We were broken up at the time because of the porn searches I found but even though we were not together I was still very offended because like I said earlier, while I'm crying about our relationship, he's entertaining himself with other women contradicting himself about how he loves me and wants me only. So the night I found that message I felt a huge relief, I was so surprised that I even felt that way at all. I started packing my things and he woke up and I asked him about it and he said it wasn't him, then he said it was for his dad, then he decided to say that he did message her but he never went to meet her. I didn't care to argue anymore but he kept saying over and over "we were broken up and I didn't cheat on you though." I told him I didn't care anymore and that I was going to go back home and I don't care to finish the school. Considering I don't have a job or income, I was going to use my moms card to buy a ticket but he didn't want me to since she's going through treatments so he said wait one day and I'll get you a ticket so I said fine, decided I would go to school might as well but I got sucked in back into the relationship because I just couldn't let go. Idk what's true or not, wether he went to that hooker or not but the love I have for him and the relationship, just made it harder to leave. At first it was easy but considering how close I am to finishing school and how I know being back home broken up would've been a heavier feeling than being here, I just got sucked back in and him constantly trying to say he loves me and fucking with me head, I came to the conclusion that he may just not know how to love so I told him we should do couples therapy and he agreed to it. Unfortunately we've only had two sessions so far but he doesn't seem patient enough to understand that I'm still hurting and that it's going to take some time to trust him or be comfortable to have sex. We have had sex and and I always end up feeling bad afterwards but I'm trying to be understanding of his sexual needs but this week was a very busy week for me at school and he wasn't helpful at home with chores so we ended up getting in bed late not having enough time to have intercourse for 3dsys. Today, he initiated it and although I knew 3days is too long for him, I wasn't feeling too good emotionally due to the past (it affects me and is on my mind 24/7) so I communicated that with him hoping we would discuss and get better but he got upset and said he was going to watch porn then. I begged him not to and he said no matter how much conversation we have, it was going to end with him cumming one way or another so l told him I feel torn between letting you go and watch porn or fuck my healing up and give you sex. I'm dammed if I do and I'm damned if I don't. Eventually we took a walk and talked things out and I told him if we had a better routine in life and he helped me around the house and slept at a decent time with me, we could have sex everyday but just like he prioritizes his crypto money, I want to prioritize my school and sleep at a convenient time and he understood but as soon as we got home from our walk and we had sex, he was quick to not caring to talk with me anymore about the relationship because he doesn't want to spend all day discussing about us and his life doesn't revolve around me and the relationship. And i got offended and decided to bring back history and say he can spend hours looking up girls, searching f young youth girls on fb and finding a good porn, god forbid he spends anymore time on the girl he claims to love to ease her mind. He got annoyed and went out. Please advise about this situation and what I should do. Our therapist's hasn't heard much about our problems, we've just been assigned to do certain homework but I feel like I just have a lot of resentment build up and I'm hanging by a thread so I would appreciate if anyone can advise
TL;DR sorry guys for the long post

Back in 2016, I was working at a roadside diner west of St. Cloud, Minnesota. Neat little place, had a bit of a 60’s vibe to it, but without the hairdo. On the slow hours of the day, or whenever we just had locals around, I’d be humming along with the chefs playing radio out of the kitchen. It wasn’t an exciting time, but it was nice to have a workplace that felt like a second home.
A couple of weekends a month, we had an all-night crew to serve passing truckers. You usually never had to do more than one shift though, and we got to make own schedules. Our boss was pretty hands-off. It was during one of those shifts, at the first week of early summer, that my life took a turn for the worse – and I didn’t even realize it.

We were used to having the occasional odd customer during those hours of the day. When this guy walked in, I didn’t know what to think. He was about 6’2, bald, and pale as chalk. He wore this worn-out t-shirt that looked like it’d been on fire. With every step, he dragged his feet, and collapsed in one of our booths, seemingly exhausted.
I looked back at the chef, and he just shrugged. Guy wasn’t hurting anyone, but he didn’t look like he was all there. But a job’s a job, so I went up to him.
“You alright there?” I asked.
He looked up at me like I was speaking a foreign language, then sunk his head back down, gently shaking it.
“Nah,” he said. “I, uh… I don’t think I am.”
He had this voice on the knife’s edge between a hysterical laugh and a howling cry. He was trembling.
“You need me to call someone?”
“Call?”
“Yeah, call someone.”
“How?”

I didn’t understand the question. I figured he was coming down from some kind of binge, and I wasn’t about to take any chances. I asked the chef to get me a side of bacon to keep the guy calm while I called the police.
As I slid the plate over to him, he sunk his face into his hands, sobbing.
“T-thank you,” he cried. “I-I’m… please…”
I sat down across from him, instinctively reaching out to grab his hand. He let me. Even at a light touch, I could feel the scars on his palm and fingertips. Whatever’d happened to him, it must’ve been awful.
“I can’t go back,” he sniffled. “Don’t make me go back. I can’t. Please, I can’t.”
“You’re not going anywhere. It’s okay,” I smiled. “You’re safe here.”
“Can you help me?” he asked. “Can you keep him out?”
“I’m sure we can figure it out,” I nodded. “Just eat up. It’s okay.”

His fingers trembled as he tentatively bit off a piece of bacon. His teeth were black, and he flinched.
“I need time,” he said. “I need time to run.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “We’ve called for help.”
“I just… I just need time.”
We just sat there for a while. He calmed his breathing but kept staring out the window. I could tell he was looking for something – or someone. All I could see was a road and a handful of moths. We sat there for some time, in silence, as he carefully nibbled on the slices of maple bacon.
As two police officers entered the diner, he got up from his seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of scrunched-up trash. A couple of singles, a plastic card, dirt, and something resembling animal bones. He tried to straighten out the bills, pushing them into my hands along with the laminated card.
“Just… I need time. I’ll come back. Please.”
I didn’t understand. I just nodded and accepted it. Seconds later, the officers asked him to step outside and explain the situation. I got busy taking orders from a couple of passing truckers, watching glimpses of the scene through the window. A couple of minutes later, the strange man was taken away.

My shift ended at sunrise. I dragged myself to my car with a yawn, shuffling around my pockets for the keys. I hadn’t thought much about the items he’d handed me, but I took a closer look. I’d thrown away the animal bones and dirt, but there were a couple of dollar bills and that laminated card left. I checked the card first.
It looked like some kind of bookmark. On one side it was completely white, and on the other side there were dried blue flower petals arranged in a spiral. Kinda reminded me of a sunflower. And finally, there were the dollar bills.
I didn’t pay much attention to these at first. Just a couple of singles. But after a closer look, I noticed something unusual. There was a man on the bill that I didn’t recognize. It took me a couple of google searches to realize that this man was Walter Mondale – the man who’d lost to Ronald Reagan’s second run for president back in ’84. Why was this man on a one-dollar bill?

Before heading to bed, I put the items down on my nightstand. In a moment of silent wonder, I looked out the window. What had that man been looking for? What’d he been running from?
There was nothing out there.
Just a couple of moths.

Waking up the next morning, I had a full day off. I spent it cleaning my apartment, watching movies, having dinner with a couple of friends, and ending the night with a couple of drinks at the pub down on the corner. No binge or anything, just got a bit boozy. I was still gonna be in bed by midnight.
I took the scenic route home; a long walk. All the way down main street, past the lake. I took a shortcut through the park by the final stretch, speeding up a bit. That place was trouble.
As I hurried by the fountain, I spotted someone in the distance. A shrouded figure at the edge of the streetlights. I stopped to observe for a second, but as I did, the lights flickered. Coming back on, the figure was gone.
I chalked it up to imagination. I was a bit drunk, after all. Besides – it was small, like a child. What the hell would a kid be doing out at this hour?

A couple of days passed. I didn’t notice anything unusual, but I kept coming back to that distressing feeling of missing something important. Looking back at it now, I just feel dumb. He was there all along. Outside the supermarket. In the parking lot. Off the highway. Hell, he was outside my window at night sometimes, but just too short for me to spot.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
It wasn’t until one morning when I was driving to work that I got a clear view of him. I was crossing a four-way street, taking a sharp left turn, when I had to throw myself on the breaks. There was a kid in the middle of the street.
I hadn’t seen him that clearly before. He was probably around 6, maybe 7 years old. Wearing a plain black shirt and a pair of light blue canvas pants. Short black hair, dark eyes, and no shoes. That particular detail stuck with me. No shoes? Why?
I almost lost control, but I was lucky. There wasn’t much traffic, and I managed to stop further down the road. There were black lines in the pavement from my screeching tires swerving back and forth. Regaining my composure, I looked in the rear-view mirror.
The kid was gone.

But that was just the start.
I’d spot him every now and then. Looking out the window at work. At the gas station. A passing face in the crowd when shopping for groceries. Every now and then, something would pull on my attention, forcing me to whip my head around, looking for the source of that ill feeling crawling up my spine. Sometimes I saw him. And even worse – sometimes I didn’t.
I remember lying awake at night, hearing moths tap against my window. There was nothing else. Nothing outside. I patrolled my apartment six times, checking every window. I’d looked everywhere, and there was no reason for me to feel the way I did. I was growing paranoid.
And yet, in the morning, my front door was unlocked, and slightly open.

It all came to a head one afternoon when I was out on my smoke break. I’d barely slept for the past three nights, and you could kinda tell I was having a bad day. As I stood there, leaning against the side door of the diner, I see the kid again. This time just across the road, maybe 50 feet or so away. I’d had enough. This had to end.
I was furious. I stormed forward, calling him out with every slur and curse I could think of. I was psyching myself up. I was in the right, and I refused to be harassed anymore – kid or not. Didn’t matter. I crossed the road, barely dodging a speeding jeep, and met him face-to-face.
“What the hell do you want?!” I’d yell. “Why are you following me?!”
He was completely expressionless. He didn’t even flinch, no matter how much I pointed or screamed. I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes, and he didn’t even blink. He just stared at me, like a porcelain doll head on a swivel.

I wasn’t thinking about the bystanders though. A couple of middle-aged men stepped up, asking in no kind terms what the hell was wrong with me. I was held back and restrained. Someone called the police. Someone else called my manager – I’d forgotten to take off my apron, so they could see the diner logo. A couple of people filmed it. One of the videos got like 120k views in a day before it fell off the map. I still see it as a react gif sometimes.
It was a disaster. After a couple of officers came by to talk to me, he’d just disappeared into thin air. The officers took me down to the station – not to detain me, but to get me away from the heated crowd. That car ride downtown sobered me up to what the hell was going on. I was being stalked by this kid, but there wasn’t a living soul out there that would believe me.
Well, maybe one.
Maybe.

I was asked a couple of questions and released within about half an hour. They told me to go home and sleep this whole thing off. That wouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t have a job to go back to anyway, according to the (many) texts I’d gotten. I had all the goddamn time in the world.
I was just about to leave when something came to mind. The two officers who’d picked me up were still waiting by their car when I turned back to them.
“Sorry, you picked up the guy I called in about at the diner, right?” I asked.
“Sure did.”
“You got any idea what happened to him?”
The two looked at one another for a moment, shrugged, and turned to me.
“Didn’t have any ID and gave a fake name. I think they took him to psych.”
“Psych?”
“Well, he was saying some, uh… strange things. There were interviews with a, uh…”
The two quieted down and flashed me a smile.
“There’s not that much we can say.”

Coming home, I decided to get to the root of this. It didn’t take me that long to find the place where the guy’d been taken; there aren’t a lot of mental health facilities in this part of the country. Especially facilities that accept involuntary subjects.
But my eyes kept drifting back to the strange dollar bills he’d given me, resting neatly on my nightstand. They were so detailed. A bit old, sure, but that only made them seem more genuine. What the hell was he doing with a handful of clearly fake dollar bills? Like, what’s the purpose? There had to be a purpose.
That unnerved me.

I managed to arrange a meeting. It wasn’t easy, and I think a lot of it boiled down to the police having no idea what could make this guy talk. For some reason, he kept providing them with false information. Maybe a familiar face, for one reason or another, might make him talk.
Just a couple of days later, I was putting my items in a metal bowl on the second floor at a mental health institute in the next town over. I asked one of the nurses if I could keep one of my dollar bills. Apparently, that was okay.
I was shuffled through a couple of locked doors and escorted to an off-white side-room. No décor, no locks. The guy was already there.

He’d been dressed down into these neutral eggshell-white garbs. It was strange seeing him in a lit-up room like this. I didn’t know what to expect.
Getting a closer look at him, he was probably in his 50’s. It’d been hard to tell earlier. I couldn’t get over just how pale he was; it was almost a complete lack of pigment. It looked sickly. His thin arms didn’t help – he looked malnourished. And yet, he was smiling.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello to you too,” I smiled. “You doing okay?”
“I’m… I’m pretty good,” he nodded. “Thank you.”
I sat down across from him and took out the dollar bill he’d given me.
“I wanted to ask you about this.”
“For the bacon,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, was that not enough?”
“No, it’s…”
I took a moment to compose myself. I had too many questions.

He sighed, took the bill, and looked it over. Looking back at me, I could tell there was something painful stirring in his mind. His smile slowly faded.
“Sorry,” he said. “I try to forget sometimes. It’s easier than making sense of it.”
“Let’s start with something simple,” I nodded. “Like… your name. Where you’re from.”
“Those things are pretty far from simple.”
He was looking straight through me; his eyes sinking back to deeper, more uncomfortable thoughts.

His name was Samuel, and he was born around these parts in back in the 1970’s. He’d worked as a telecommunications specialist out of St. Cloud back in the 90's. He had a wife, three children, and a four-bedroom house.
“But it… that was all before, see?” he explained. “Then it all just…”
“Just what?” I asked. “What happened?”
He looked at me, opening and closing his mouth, looking for the right words to come out. Nothing happened. He shook his head, trying again.
“It started with the street preachers,” he said. “Hundreds of them, marching on every city. All saying the same doomsday shit as always. World was dying. All coming to an end.”
“I haven’t seen anything like that.”
“Then there were storms,” he continued without skipping a beat. “Some would last for weeks. Others longer. Entire cities would be flooded or torn apart. Earthquakes causing monster waves along the east coast, sending shockwaves all the way to mainland Europe. Then, Yellowstone.”
“Yellowstone?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Lights out.”

Samuel was painting this apocalyptic vision of a world undone. Catastrophe after catastrophe. Hooded people marching the streets, screaming for the mercy of a mad god. But there was more to it.
“Then things stopped making sense. It’s as if the rules changed,” he continued. “Roads would stop leading home. Trees would change color. People turned twisted and corrupted. Like… one of our neighbors couldn’t eat anything but gunpowder. There was a woman just down the street who tried to kill anyone wearing glasses. It was… pandemonium.”
I didn’t say anything. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, but he was trying his best to keep his rambling coherent.
“The plants died. Trees too. The only thing that could grow in that environment were these twisted blue things that popped up out of nowhere. But people… people are what got twisted the most.”
He told me of these towering 7-foot-tall humanoid creatures that roamed the forests. Black as night – not even reflecting light. Arms reaching all the way to their knees. Elongated, inhuman things that all used to be someone he knew.

“The doomsayers all said the same thing,” he continued. “That God was a scared little boy, and that he was dying. Everything that was happening was just an expression of that ceaseless, bottomless, existential grief.”
Samuel looked back and forth, finally burying his face in his hands.
“It all broke down. Roads stopped leading anywhere. No power. No water. Julie changed. Ollie changed. Tobie made himself a mask and wandered off into the woods. Ira just… disappeared. And for… years? Has it been years? It’s just been me.”
“But you’re here, now,” I said. “And what you’re describing, it… it didn’t happen.”
“It happened,” he insisted. “Just not… here. But here.”
He tapped his finger on the single dollar bill.
“Somewhere, somehow, I must’ve taken a wrong turn. I slipped through something broken, and now I’m here. And… and he’s coming to bring me back. He doesn’t want anyone to leave.”
“Who?”
“Just! Just…” he chuckled. “Just a sad little boy who’s been told he’s going to die.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just sat with him for a while, holding his hand.

Before I left, Samuel got up from his chair. He looked at me, forcing himself to smile.
“If I go back, I’ll try not to… to be like them. I’ll try. And… and I’ll be the one to say something.”
He let out a painful little laugh, shaking his head.
“Maybe just a… hello.”

I left that day with more questions than answers. I couldn’t picture the world he’d lived through. Then again, how could it be true? None of it had happened. But what was he gaining from lying about it?
That was the last time I saw Samuel. A few days later, he went missing, as if he’d disappeared into thin air. I didn’t know what to think of it. There was nothing on the cameras – no one entering or leaving the building. No quick escapes, no clever plans. He’d just walked into his room and disappeared. Nothing left but a couple of moths fluttering about.
And for a while, that was it. That was the end of the story. I got busy looking for a new job, and all the little items given to me by Samuel was put away into a little box in my glove compartment. Life soldiered on, and no matter how many questions I had, there was no one around to answer them. Even the strange kid that’d been following me was, seemingly, gone.

A couple of months later, I was driving home from a friend’s place. I stopped at a four-way street, waiting for a couple of trucks to pass, when there was a knock on the passenger side window. I almost choked on my own spit. Scared me half to death.
Looking out, I could see that kid again. I hadn’t seen him for some time, and I quickly bounced between curiosity and downright anger.
“What do you want?” I yelled out.
There was no response. Instead, the door just opened. It’d been locked. As he opened the door, he pointed to the glove box.
“You want his things?” I asked. “Is that it?”
He nodded. I wanted to lash out, but there was something telling me I shouldn’t. Instead, I reached over, opened the glove compartment, and pointed to the box.
“Just take it and leave me alone,” I said. “Get it over with.”

He reached in and grabbed the box. So much effort for a couple of mementos. I turned my head back to face the road. The kid backed out. But of course, I had to get the last word in.
“Not even a thank you, huh?”
That made him pause. He looked at me, tilting his head. As he opened his mouth to speak, a moth fluttered out. Then another. And another.
Then – darkness.

What happened next is hard to describe. My memory of it is fragmented. It’s like trying to watch a buffering video, where long stretches of it are just nothing – but you know something was supposed to happen in-between.
Blink. I was sitting in my car. There was a dark blue sky. No clouds, no stars. Figures in the distance. An open field with blue flowers bending to a howling wind. A powerful stench of ammonia stinging my nostrils. Something to my immediate left, ripping the car door straight off the hinges.
Blink. Running. Ruins of a town. It seemed familiar, but there was barely anything left. My leg was bleeding. I was being followed. No matter where I turned, or where I ran, I seemed to end up at the same intersection.
Blink. A three-story building, brimming with life. Glimpses of arm-long antennae through the broken windows. Clickety-clack of bursting wings tapping against crumbling concrete. A loud warning shriek as something rubs its legs together; a call for prey.
Blink. Hiding in a tipped-over trash container. The rain has stopped in mid-air. Raindrops held in indefinite suspension. I suck water drops out of the air to quench my thirst. My hands are shaking from the blood loss.

Countless little images. Some in order, some not. I have no idea how much time passed. In the moment, it must’ve been much longer than I can remember. Days. Weeks, even. There’s no way to tell.
Blink. Walking through a barren field. It feels like walking through a dead forest, but there are no trees. Only those willingly impaled and wailing.
Blink. An abandoned booth by a broken highway. A sign offers phone calls, in exchange for “real teeth”. There are six sizes of pliers hanging on a wall within. All are bloodied – even the small ones.
Blink. The church that had burned down the night before had reappeared. The people inside, too. They couldn’t leave. Tonight, they would burn again.

Somewhere in this nightmarish puzzle-pieced fragment of nothing, there was a constant drive in me to get away. To get out. I knew that if I’d gotten there, I could get back home again. I just had no idea how. Maybe finding the kid. Asking. Begging. Something.
The last fragment of memory from that space was being cornered in a cellar. They were banging on the door. I’d tipped over a wardrobe to keep them out, but they weren’t going to stop. They were never going to stop. I couldn’t let them kill me again – not like that.
One of the Changed ones were coming. I don’t know what that means, or how I know the name, but I knew of it. There was a mirror, and I could see the signs. It stepped out. Seven feet tall, black as night. Elongated arms and neck. Barely a body at all – just a void space vaguely shaped like the remnants of a person.
Except this one felt… familiar. It was the first one to speak.
“H E L L O.”

Blink. Running. A cold hand. If I squeezed too hard, my fingers went straight through it. I had to keep up. He was showing me something.
Blink. They were flooding over the school bus, tipping it by their sheer numbers. Eruptions from the sewer grates. They were famished.
Blink. An open field. Sunflowers facing me, no matter where I turn. It’s not far.
Blink. I look back, as I’m pushed over the edge. He looks just like the rest of them. They aren’t angered by his betrayal.
They feel nothing, as I fall.

In February of 2017, I was found by the side of the road. I’d been gone for months. My car was too. I came back with nothing but the clothes on my back and countless scars. I’ve been told that I didn’t make any sense at first; I was just rambling nonsense. Or maybe it just sounded like nonsense to these people.
Over time, I forgot more and more of these fragmented images. And the less I remember, the more I can move on. Still, I’ve written them down over time, and they paint an ugly, insane picture of what I’d been going through. Some of which I, myself, have a hard time believing. Then again, I know myself well enough to see that there’s no point in lying.

I haven’t seen Samuel, or that strange kid ever since. I think this is all over, for now. There’s nothing left for me to give.
But even now, years later, I still wake up to that feeling at night. That there’s something wrong, or that I’m forgetting something. That there’s something near that I’m looking straight through, or past.
And every now and then, I hear the flutter of a moth’s wing, tapping against my bedroom window.
And I think I know what it wants.
It wants me to go back.

The lights in the hospital’s waiting room buzzed incessantly. The floor was freshly bleached from last night's cleaning. A lady in the middle of her third trimester sat with her husband near the entrance. She could feel a headache beginning to come on.
Her husband was flipping through a magazine he found on the rack near the middle of the room. His deep brown eyes scanned its pages, and his brows were furrowed.
“Jack,” she said, “are you alright?”
“Yeah,” he replied, glancing at her. “Why?”
“You seem mad, is all.”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?”
“Oh. I don’t know. You just look; it is all,” she said, placing her hand on the rim of her belly.
“Trust me. I’m not mad,” he said, flipping to another page.
“Well, we were lucky Mrs. Carter let me work a little overtime for this, huh?” She adjusted herself on the seat cushion.
“We are.”
“It only took two months of scrimping by, but we got our reservation, didn’t we? I mean, how many parents, you know, get to see their child before they’re really here?”
“Not many. That’s for damn sure,” he replied.
Her husband closed the magazine and stood up to go get another one.
“Could you get me one?” she asked him.
“They don’t have anything you would like.”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Alright.”
She looked at him from behind and thought he would be a good father. The baby kicked the wall of her belly, and she chuckled. She could overhear the conversation between one woman and another near their seats.
“This is my second time,” one of the women said. “Second?” the other asked.
“Carlos and I came in when I was at the beginning of my second trimester. You know what they say. The earlier you come, the less accurate the reading is.”
“What happened?”
“Our daughter is going to be beautiful. That we know for certain, but around her early twenties, she goes to prison. For murder.”
“What. Really?”
“Yeah. But again, we came early in the pregnancy. We haven’t been able to sleep since that reading. So, we set up another appointment much later. My date is a month away, so the reading should be pretty accurate,” the first woman said.
“What are you going to do if the reading is the same?”
“What most parents would. We can always try again for another.”
The woman’s stomach did a somersault, and her eyes searched for the nearest waste bin, but the feeling subsided when her husband came over and handed her a magazine.
“Thank you, hon’,” she said, swallowing.
“You alright, Em?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little nausea.”
“You going to throw up?”
“Only if you keep talking about it,” she said, looking up and closing her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down. This was the one I thought you would find most interesting.”
She opened her eyes and glanced down at the magazine in her lap. It was a magazine about car parts and overall car maintenance.
“Thank you. I just needed something to pass the time.”
“No problem. How long have we been waiting for? It feels like we have been here forever. I must’ve read every magazine on that rack by now,” he said, smiling.
The woman pressed her thumb and middle finger at her temples.
“Jack?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think he will turn out alright?”
The man looked at his wife’s stomach, and his smile faded.
“I am sure he will turn out fine,” he said, grabbing her hand.
She felt a little better now. His words always seemed to soothe her when she needed it most. Though, she felt stupid asking the question she had asked him a thousand times.
“What if he’s an astronaut? Or finds the cure for cancer?”
“If our kid finds the cure for cancer, the doctors will make sure he is born. Whether we want him or not,” he said, laughing.
She only smiled, and it was faint.
“You do want him, right?”
“What?” he asked. She could see his cheeks flush. “Of course I do; why would you ask that?”
She apologized for asking the question. Her eyes darted to the door where the nurse would appear and call people names.
“Why would you ask that?” he asked again.
“I am sorry. I already apologized. I’m just flustered. Pregnancy. It does things to you.”
Her husband’s expression loosened, and he opened the next magazine he grabbed.
The woman skimmed through hers without really reading anything. Motors are for sale, and the “Eight Easy Steps to Keep Your Car’s Battery” did nothing for her.
The door near the front desk opened, and the nurse called her name. Her husband sat up promptly and helped her from her seat. As they walked toward the smiling nurse, the only thing she could think about was the future.

Looking for some good recommendations to navigate my future plans.
I completed my undergrad in Engineering in the US and then I started applying for Masters program and a job simultaneously. I had a job offer and two university acceptance with some good scholarships. I chose to take the job offer as I was financially broke and couldn’t afford to move to big city and for masters program. I came from a very weak financial background family, I have been supporting myself for my living and education and also supporting my parents back home. After working for 4.5 years now, I am kind of stable financially (make ~100K/annum) meaning I can afford to rent and pay for food/cars/education. I started my Masters in the same field of engineering as my work through distance learning in one of the top 5 graduate school of engineering. I will finish them in about 2 years and my company partially pays for the tuition.
I tried my hands at entrepreneurship before and during the pandemic time, I failed to successfully launch my startup in my home country and lost $25K. I was academically very good in schools and was always chosen for representatives/leadership roles in schools growing up ( people from India can relate to it). While I aspire to become a good entrepreneur in the future at the same time I feel my education is incomplete. I feel like doing a PhD on and off just for the sake of respect in the industry and the title and also salary bump. I had the offer for Sr. Engineering role in bayarea and declined the role. I am 28yrs old. I want to keep my job and would like to continue upskilling and get a degree (PhD). I have been thinking of doing a PhD related to the same engineering field of my work (advanced manufacturing in semiconductors) through online/distance learning. I saw there are some universities that offer the PhD program for the degree I want.
Do you recommend me doing PhD online? Is it worth it given my work and experience? Am I putting my head in the wrong direction?
TIA

Growing up in (what is now called but was not at the time) Northern Virginia, we had a bunch of "oldies" stations in FM. Because Stafford county was growing so much faster than its infrastructure, I spent a LOT of time in the car. So we listened to a lot of FM radio. And the dial was always set to an "oldies" station.
I love that music to this day. My parents were born in 1951, so they were about a third generation older than my peers' parents. So I missed that "classic rock" stuff. My dad was an old school music nerd even for his generation, he was a Lawrence Welk kind of dork - he listened to Mitch Miller, Pat Boone, Perry Como in addition the awesome pop of the 60s. My mom was into some of the Western country of the era too, but mostly 60s pop.
I never "rebelled" against my parents musical tastes and ended up just adopting it wholesale. If there were a 60s pop and r&b station on FM nowadays, my dial would never move.
Anyone else remember the "oldies" stations back in the 90s?

Am I the asshole for not wanting a relationship with my dad’s side of the family?
Me, 23F, have a pretty good relationship with my parents, but a point of conflict in our family ever since I was a child is my relationship with my dad’s side of the family.
My dad’s side of the family lives on another city so that automatically reduced the contact I had with them in comparison with the contact I had with my mom’s side of the family, most notably my grandma and my uncle.
My dad’s family has never really put into the effort to have a closer relationship. The most I would get from them were usually birthday and Christmas calls when I was a kid. Now, it’s, at best, a Christmas call from my grandmother and a DM from one of my aunts. At the same time, my grandparents often showed they cared more about my cousins than me. They would often be more affectionate towards them and give them rather expensive gifts and even help with paying for their eduction. One of them got a car recently and the other got help in affording their MBA.
I get it, they live closer to my grandparents so it’s understandable they’d be closer to them than to me, but these things weren’t as clear to me when I was about 6/7 I often wondered what I’d done to make them not like me.
My dad always insisted we visited them during summer break or other holidays when I was in school. I never felt like these people cared for me so I hated wasting my off time visiting them instead of spending time with my friends or doing other activities I enjoyed, especially given that I struggled with bullying in school so the summer break was always the time I had to just be left alone. Instead, almost every year I got dragged for a week or two to another city and forced to live under the same roof as my grandparents. They weren’t mean to me, but I often felt completely left out when I was there. My mom would often be the only one who tried to do something I’d enjoy.
Sometimes his family would come to visit and more than once he gave away some of my toys to my younger cousins. He’d hardly ask me in advance if it was okay, instead he’d ask in front of my cousins if they wanted it and if I was okay with giving it to them. I felt pressured to say yes, because I didn’t want to disappoint my dad nor upset my younger cousins.
His goal whenever he was with his family was to prove to them how successful he was. How he’d been the first to have higher education in the family and how he was a businessman when, in reality, my parents were somewhat struggling financially.
Over the years, I began to make my position more clear and tell my dad I didn’t want to visit them nor that I wanted them in our house. He often said I was being selfish and that I needed to put in the effort to be closer to his family. He also said I was close to my mom’s relatives and that it was unfair I didn’t have the same relationship with his family. It became an endless point of contention, including between my parents who’d often get into arguments over the situation. My mom always taking my side as she doesn’t really get along with them as well.
It also didn’t help that my grandmother and aunts seemed to dislike the way my parents were raising me and told my dad I was too spoiled. My dad told my mom about it and she told me about it once she felt I was old enough to know as she “didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”
Recently, things got worse. There was one person I liked in that family and that was my uncle, he too often felt left out by the family so we could relate in some ways. My family was actually pretty horrible to him as he struggled with mental health and they think that’s bs. He died during the COVID pandemic and now the family basically acts as if he’s never existed. I get it may be grief, but the way they never talk about him feels weird to me. He was the only person that made my family more tolerable and now he’s gone so there’s not much left.
More than that, my dad’s family is more on the conservative and religious side and I’m not. They post a bunch of fake news on their stories about the government (to the point one of my aunts often has her posts suspended) and supported a candidate who was openly lgbtphobic and I’m gay so you can imagine that did not land well with me. Still, I never tried to argue with them for the sake of my dad, but I would still post something about politics every now and then. In the end, one of aunts went into my DMs to say how stupid I was for supporting the other candidate. That escalated to a whole argument… my dad was not happy about it and said I should tone down on my posts.
More recently, my dad has begun to visit them on his own as my work schedule makes it harder to take me with him, but he keeps talking about how my grandparents are old and don’t have much time left and how the “whole family” should be there for them.
Still, I can’t bring myself to really care. I genuinely feel nothing for them. I expect nothing from them and I trust they expect nothing from me.
I do feel bad for my dad because it’s his parents and family so I don’t complain about them anymore, but I still don’t want any contact with them.
Am I the asshole?

You know when you get that warm fuzzy feeling inside when you see a new message from that certain someone? When you hold onto a hug a few seconds longer because neither person wants to let go? When you ugly laugh to the point of being unable to breathe over the silliest things? Being able to talk about your deepest thoughts and biggest aspirations while sitting in your car at 2 in the morning? I miss having that kind of intimacy in my life. I've been going through a personal growth phase for a while, and I feel ready enough to put myself out there and see what life throws my way. Who knows? This could be the start of something new. cue High School Musical song
About Me:
While I’m not looking to immediately jump into a serious commitment with anyone, I generally prefer to date with the intention of establishing something long-term. My schedule can get pretty busy, so I have no interest in wasting my time or yours. With that being said, quality time is my biggest love language, and I will definitely make time for my significant other when I can. One important thing to put out there is that I absolutely do not want kids. Parenthood has never appealed to me, and dogs are just so much better in my opinion. DINK3D (Double Income, No Kids, 3 Dogs) is my ultimate life goal. Hopefully, you’re down to adopt a German shepherd or three with me in the future.
I'm generally pretty reserved in person until you break me out of my shell, but sarcasm and dry humor mixed in with a tiny dash of existentialism are how I communicate 90% of the time. I'm Korean but never really got into the mainstream wave of Korean pop culture, so I don't really know anything about Kpop or Korean media in general (sorry to disappoint). I'm a bit of a homebody, but I'll never turn down an opportunity to go out for new experiences whether that's trying a new restaurant, visiting a museum, or going to an event. I'd consider myself a major foodie and do a lot of cooking myself. A good chunk of my YouTube history is food-related videos, so I can cook you dinner one day and give you a literal chef's kiss. I also write music occasionally (one good thing about being forced to learn piano as a child).
About You:
Ideally, I'm looking for a 20-27 year old self-certified baddie who is local to Orange County or LA. I'm strictly looking for something that can develop in person, so I'm not interested in anything long distance. I don't really think I have a specific type when it comes to dating preferences as long as you know what you want (both emotionally and generally in life), but I will say intelligence and good communication skills are pretty sexy. Good vibes and compatibility are the name of the game. Also, the no kids part is probably important too.
Anyways, if any part of this post resonated with you, send me a chat, and we can see where things go. Let me know what you’d want me to cook for you, or if you’re feeling really spicy, tell me your red flags (both yours personally and red flags in potential partners) lol.

I always wonder how these boys' lives would have turned out if they had never met such a horrible man as Gacy. They were children, their lives were ahead of them, I am sure that many of them had a great future and we would have heard about these children anyway. For example, it is interesting, what would have happened if Robert Piest had not been killed? He loved playing soccer and taking pictures so much. What if John Butkovich had lived, he loved cars, and what if Michael Bonnin hadn't been killed. He loved painting, playing baseball, and fixing things that didn't work so much. I wonder what kind of people all these boys would have been if their path, at their most vulnerable age, had not crossed that of John Wayne Gacy. Was Gacy stalking Michael Bonnin long before he killed the teenager? Michael also lived in Norwood Park and Gacy could easily track him down. Bonnin also worked at an EZ-GO or GO-E-Z gas station near his house and I think Gacy could have met him there if his car ran out of gas and he went to fill up his car, he could have followed the guy from there . Before Michael's half-sister even expressed her suspicions in the episode "Conversations with a killer", saying that she thinks Michael may be working for Gacy at his construction company as well. Michael wasn't the only boy at Luther North High School to disappear. Another Gacy victim, 20-year-old Timothy O'Rourke, also attended the same school. One such case is the case of Robert Piest and John Szyc. They both attended Maine West High School. Is it possible that Gacy chose the schools first, and then chose the children of his choice from the schools as victims? If you have such doubts, please comment, I enjoy reading and trying to analyze. Unfortunately, Gacy either spoke very little about Michael or remained silent at all and said nothing about the boy. We can only assume that at least now the poor children are safe and in no pain. Michael's eyes in particular look so sad to me.

Just wanted to update and thank this subreddit for helping me through the past year and a few months, and give an update to anyone who might be in a 1st DUI situation.
Arrested for DUI in February 2023 in PA(0.12, no accident, just simply pulled over). Completed ARD (12 HR Course, 30 Day suspension, $700 in fines, 6 months unsupervised probation). Started ARD in May 2023, completed class, fines, and all requirements by end of May 2023). Released early from ARD in August of 2023.
Due to the completion of ARD everything from this was supposed to be expunged, however come May 2024 everything is still flagging on a background check. I am currently still working with my legal council to get this expunged, however they basically make it impossible to get a straight answer on how to get everything done and make you jump through lots of hoops and red tape.
My biggest concern through all of this was by far was the criminal record side of things, as I am 23 years old and a young professional in my field. In January 2024, I started a new sales role with an extremely large and well known corporation in my industry and was absolutely terrified about the background check. I ended up coming clean to my hiring manager before the background check, and they were completely understanding as well as never brought the incident up again!
Fast forward to May now, I receive a call from a director at quite literally my dream company asking me if I’d be interested in a new role opening up since they were looking for someone who had past experience using certain systems that I had with my old job I was at when the DUI occurred. This job was a massive pay bump, I would get to move back to my hometown near family and friends, benefits were better, overall just a huge upgrade from what I am doing now.
Then comes the EXTREMELY rigorous background check. I was absolutely terrified I was going to lose this opportunity, as well as I didn’t want to mess up the job I was at currently by telling them I was leaving and having the new job not work out. I always have thought about background checks as a “only give information if asked” situation. However, with them wanting me to start at the end of the month, I simply just couldn’t take it anymore and I brought it up to my hiring manager again. Thank god I did as they were so happy that I was proactive and told them, and informed me it wouldn’t be an issue, and that it might be a different story if I hadn’t been upfront with them!
The charge showed bright as day on my background check, and all I had to do was provide documentation to HR that I had completed the diversion program, as they still hadn’t updated my docket yet saying I have.
Starting my dream job at the end of the month and I couldn’t be happier and more relieved I was able to take this opportunity!!
In my personal opinion when it comes to job hunting and background checks, if it is just a simple DUI no extentuiting circumstances, I would guage the rapport you have with the hiring manager and make that judgement call if you disclose to them or not. I knew mine was going to show up and in my specific situation wanted to control and own up to the situation so there were no surprises later.
The last year and couple months have been the most stressful of my life being a recent college graduate, and I would say forced me to grow up so incredibly fast.
For someone out there like me who was constantly reading this Reddit and having major anxiety, depression, and other issues due to being arrested and charged with a DUI, I promise it gets better with time and getting through it is a hard but good lesson! You will get past this and overcome this, and down the line with it will just be a blip in your timeline. However, always remember how this situation made you feel (I wear a wristband on my wrist every day that I had grabbed from the DMV when I was dealing with my license issues) and use that to make sure whenever you think about making the choice to drive even after a few drinks, YOU DONT!!
Post year and a couple months, I still drink socially, however if I ever have a single drink my car is staying where it is or I won’t have a sip if I know I have my car out with me and need to get it home. Buy that uber!
You are human. You made a mistake. You will prevail and make it out on the other side a better person because of it!!

The 3 basic parameters of hashtag #Valzubiriagenda:

1. We artists and everyone else can write and self-publish art- and artist-related books: memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs. Books are forever. Pamphlets and brochures are not books.
2. We announce a schedule of increasing prices of our art pieces, which includes quantities (scarcity numbers) per price point and overall (the total quantity of art pieces we might ever make). This helps art traders, art investors and art collectors speculate or even stop speculating and instead join a community of investors working together to hopefully skyrocket to the higher announced prices in a shorter span of time.
3. We can use the NFT world, because NFTs provide the tracking (who owns what) and trading.

We can also not be involved with NFTs. Stores and individuals can help sell art using online presence and our catalogs in the stores. If this trends, or once this trends, even expensive art can be sold by neighboring businesses, without exclusivity. Commission systems do not have to be standardized. Art investors can produce their own catalogs to leave at the cafés. Even the cafés can produce their own catalogs.
Valzubiriagenda NFTs
NFTs only came about a few years ago. But I had been working on this since the 1990s. I wrote a book, Valzubiriagenda, along with fellow artist Silverio Perez, and released it in 2018 (Amazon and elsewhere), tackling everything related to #1 & #2. We'll come up with #3 in a later book/ memoi marketing book.
Any artist, including tangible artists can release 10,000 NFTs if the artist chooses to do so. For tangible artists, the NFT first becomes an Art Commission Contract for sight unseen, yet-to-be made art. Once the art is made, the NFT becomes proof of ownership that the actual, tangible art is theirs.
Warehousing our tangible art
Another related idea is that the tangible art may be warehoused by the artist so that the NFT traders continue to trade. This means that even 10-ton 10-foot tall sculptures can be owned and traded by anyone without worrying about shipping, reshipping, scratches, smudges, parts breaking off, etc. The newness of the pieces remain because they are stored by the artist, source, gallery, etc. The art piece gets shipped to the art collector, the ultimate owner.
An artist who makes ceramic coffee mugs - smaller art pieces, can release 10,000 NFTs with a schedule of increasing prices so that NFT traders can trade immediately. The 10,000 coffee mugs can get damaged, so as they are made, they continue to be stored by the artist, until the time when art collectors decide to have the art pieces shipped to them.
Why only now?
I decided to write as many book-length memoirs as I can before I came out to promote this.
I'm an artist and an author. Both need time to "master." I would not even fully use "master" on myself, because there's always something new, even to my own art, my own writing and publishing.

I am now claiming that I'm the visual artist who has produced the most artist memoirs in the world. I have 5 on Amazon. I count Valzubiriagenda as both a marketing book and a memoir-of-sorts, because it has a lot of my own life lessons on writing and publishing. I would not care to contest my claim of having the most memoirs. I will release 5 more over the next 3 years.

BARTER! Get help to write, photograph art and publish your books!
Anyone can hire 11 ghostwriters for 11 memoirs. If you can make art, but you cannot write, then barter your forever art with those who can help you produce forever books.
I don't feel the pressure of writing and publishing because I feel my focus should be on art students and art experts who would study my art and my books 100 years from now. Don't expect relatives and friends to read your books.
I call myself the Dollman
For my NFTs, I am proposing to make dioramas - my original, costumed, bejeweled porcelain dolls in backdrops that will also have precious metals and gemstones. This way I can incorporate precious metals and gemstones in my work, to make sure that people perceive my art as expensive, just in case I myself don't become "famous" - there's no need to get world famous. We are artists and all we need to do is to satisfy the art niche.
Use your laptop now!
I will encourage you to start writing your book-length memoir. Write, Edit and then Self-publish it. Get help. Why wait a hundred years for someone to write about you when all you need is a laptop and a nearby coffee shop.
Don't start counting chickens before the eggs hatch. I have encountered a lot of would-be writers who immediately see themselves as bestselling. world famous assets to society. Two even wanted me to sign NDAs (Nondisclosure agreements), because they did not want me to steal their book ideas.
Here's a suggestion. I would not personally do it. From one manuscript can come 2 books: The Original Draft (unedited, with misspellings, considered to be an art piece, scanned pages(?) of your handwritten original effort), and The Final Edition (edited).
PROVENANCE!
Another way to enhance our investability, tradability and collectability is PROVENANCE - how art ownership proceeds through time. The way this can be done is also through publishing books. Everyone can write their memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs, including traders, investors and art collectors. In effect, we artists can continue to be included or mentioned in even more books, without any additional effort by us.
You as an investor, reseller, trader, art collector should be able to publish a catalog with 250 works by 250 different artists, but they need to agree to this right from the start - it's your money, you should require them to follow your version of the hashtag #valzubiriagenda parameters, which preferably should include permission for you to publish their art. Why would you track down 250 artists later?
No exclusive contracts
If you're a café, you can call for artists, and come up with a book with for example, 30 artists, with a chapter devoted to each artist's profile and images of the artist's art.
You can distribute your catalogs to businesses and individuals near and far and online.
The book Valzubiriagenda even cites that funeral homes and janitors closets can sell art, with or without exclusivity. Airline catalogs can include million dollar art pieces. Car manufacturers, showrooms and even car repair shops can sell art as well. Everyone should be able to do this, anywhere in the world, especially not just because of the pandemic, but right now, we are in really bad economies.
What's with the name #Valzubiriagenda
I was into conspiracy theories in 2018, and this term, "The Mandela Effect," was popular. I had read many times that an artist coined the term, but I had to research online, for her name, many times, before remembering it. I'm not good at remembering names. It took me a year and a half to finally tell you that Fiona Broome coined "The Mandela Effect."
I also thought I might have to research trademarks and copyrights just to come up with a generic name. So I decided on "Valzubiriagenda." I was not really sure at first, but I decided to use it as the title for my book (with co-authoartist Silverio Perez) so that there would be no turning back and I can move on.
Am I a FUTURIST?
Someone I recently met this May 2022 just called me a futurist.
In the 1990s, I proposed to a pension fund that they can raise billions of dollars, especially for emergencies, or as needed, or out of desperation, if the pension fund purchases a quantity of art from an artist who not only has a current, reasonable price, but an announced future price that the artist wants to reach.
That future price would obviously be higher than the current price. The art commission contract for multiple art pieces can be taken to the fund's financial lender for a loan. The higher future price can be used for financing purposes.
The pension fund's treasurer, a publicly elected official, said this idea might work, but we had to keep this a secret and discuss this some more, because other pension funds might copy and do this prematurely. This idea had to come from the two of us. The treasurer needed his votes and I needed credentials.
Added into the pot was my idea that I, as the artist, will also write one book-length artist memoir. This was and still is a strong factor, because the leadership and marketing books I had read then mentioned a strong tip. If you want to advance in your field, write a full-length book that is related to the field.
Unfortunately, the elected official, the treasurer of the pension fund, who was also a friend, passed away - he was old and had ailments. At that point in time, I cannot just approach another pension fund treasurer to share this idea with.
I realized I had to write a few memoirs. I needed to set an example for other artists, so I needed to write more than one memoir. Then I felt I should also make ready another book - the how-to of what I'm up to. I wrote Valzubiriagenda, which was a memoir of sorts. I knew how long it would take me to write a book, so I had to make sure I can also consider this book a memoir.
In 2008, I imagined that someone like Bernie Madoff, or a fund like Lehman Brothers, would be desperate enough to use this to save themselves and their companies. I was not ready. I had only written 1 manuscript for a memoir.
In 2012, I released Dollman the Musical, A Memoir of an Artist as a Dollmaker. Once again, I was not ready because writing it depressed me a little, and I knew I had to write more.
In 2014, I released 3 memoirs, and re-released Dollman the Musical. Besides releasing regular books, I released special editions of the 4 books, which had a "Special Secret Insert for Bankers," which explains my ideas of an announced schedule of exponentially increasing prices, to satisfy investors, and the publication of artist memoirs, to satisfy art collectors.
In 2014, I also issued out a press release. Google "Can Billion Dollar Artist Save Investors and World Economy Valentino Zubiri PRWeb August 19 2014" and you will see the press release.
What I did was stake a claim on my ideas. I did not promote my books and the press release. I just wanted them to stay online, like a sleeping giant or a dormant volcano. I even designed 3 of the book covers to look like indie books from the 1980s. I was planting the seeds, thinking they will eventually grow and bear fruit in the future.
In 2015, I was interviewed by Richard Syrett, about one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately. This book is my memoir with paranormal stories. I could have pursued promoting my paranormal stories, but I wanted to be known first as a visual artist and memoirist, so I allowed myself one interview related to Hocus Pocus Lately. Richard Syrett has(had?) his own syndicated radio show, The Conspiracy Show with Richard Syrett, about the paranormal. He also guest hosts on Coast to Coast AM, another internationally syndicated show about the paranormal.
In 2018, I released Valzubiriagenda (co-authored by artist Silverio Perez, a fellow artist). Finally, this book is "the how-to of what I'm to."
I'm going to end this with some strangeness. In 1986, a lady at a religious gathering went into a trance and left a good number of messages. Supposedly, anyone who got into a trance would have messages, but once the trance was over, the person would not remember what was said.
I was not part of the group, but the lady turned her head to face me. She "foretold" that whatever I would decide to do in the future, it will take time, but it will be the right thing. This is one of my stories in one of my memoirs, Hocus Pocus Lately.
The Tulipmania of 1634-37
I discovered that there was this incident of rare tulips becoming collectible during the Dutch Golden Age. There were tulips so rare and so well-desired that their prices equaled to that of a house. You can read more about this online (Wikipedia) or watch a few YouTube videos about it.
Here is the most useful idea that I gleaned from the Tulipmania. The tulip bulbs remained safe inside nurseries. The traders were carrying the deeds of ownership to the tulip bulbs.
Then NFTs came to the forefront
I started learning PHP, an HTML scripting language, and MySQL, the database that PHP can connect to in the background, in 1999, when there were only 3 books about PHP and MySQL at the bookstores.
By 2014, I was trying to figure out how to make the "ledger," or database that can be used to update ownership and who can be contacted. If we are trading art, then the art ownership should be updated.
Then NFTs came about. This can be used as our ledger. Everyone can immediately trade NFTs of future, yet-to-be made art pieces, especially because it takes time to make tangible art.
NFTs actually went a step ahead, by allowing digital art to be traded.
The only setback with NFTs, in my opinion, is that it still lacks a commission system for resellers and representatives.
For example, if a café wants to represent me, then they can promote me at their café and on their online pages. If I make one piece of art that will be exclusively represented by a gallery, then that commission will be different and more specific. As ownership is transferred, the subsequent owners should be able to reset the commission. We should also have the option of giving commissions to hundreds of representatives at one time with different percentages if need be.
The recent crypto crash
Lately, we have observed that NFTs and cryptocurrencies have been behaving like the stock market and other markets. They have been fluctuating.
I believe that it is time for a trend which discourages fluctuation of prices.
I have also seen YouTube videos where social influencers are encouraging us to be on the lookout for exponentially profitable ventures, because we have all seen this happen with the exponential increase of Bitcoin and Ethereum.
Let's see if #Valzubiriagenda trends
We can announce present and future art prices. The galleries won't do this (yet?) because they follow a more traditional approach to the business of art.
We have a choice of using incrementally or exponentially increasing prices. We still reserve the right to change things in the future, so everyone should know to follow the latest update.
If this trends, if you as an artist simply announces that you will write an artist memoir, or that you will include the future works in future art books, you might have more art traders, investors and collectors approaching you.
Get your pen, paper and calculator
Imagine yourself as an artist, where you are right now. Let's just say you still do not have a book about yourself and your art yet. Imagine now that you have a memoir out there. Don't you think it makes sense to charge more than what you are charging now? Writing and publishing books is just the beginning. I'm just standardizing this approach. The books also say to do other related projects. In my case, getting Dollman the Musical onstage is one idea. You will have other related projects, but the publication of memoirs, biographies, art books and art catalogs will help all of us.
You can also imagine that a law firm that has meeting rooms, with someone who wants to form a local #valzubiriagenda group, can have meetings. A local café can do the same. Local photographers for your art, writers, editors, book designers, proofreaders and others can join in.
I suggest have printed books to share. 15 copies of your memoir or art books will be better than an e-reader or laptop or your phone to show. These gadgets can be stolen, sabotaged, broken, have coffee spilled on them, etc. 15 printed books means simultaneously showing to 15 people. You can even give them away to potential resellers, investors, traders and collectors.
When it rains, it pours, as in the days of Noah
There's a saying, "When it rains, it pours." There is a negative interpretation and a positive interpretation.
Negative: When trouble comes, they cascade to even more.
Positive: When opportunity comes knocking, more follow suit. We can assume that if one gets our art because of #valzubiriagenda, more want to do it now, because of the rising prices, and FOMO - fear of missing out. What will they lose if they miss the boat?
As I have said earlier, if the #valzubiriagenda trends, if you announce a future memoir or art catalog, you might have an increase of investors, traders and art collectors who would want to check you out. You might encourage more sales. Just remember to write and publish that memoir and art catalog.
There's this saying, "As in the days of Noah." Imagine Noah, building his ark, with members of his own family, putting all his time and effort into it. Noah was a nice guy. I'm sure every once in a while a neighbor offered him coffee, or chai latte, or whatever refreshing drink they might have back then.
Here's the lesson to be learned. Just because they offered him some type of bubble tea drink, or coca cola, they still didn't make it to the ark. Rubbing shoulders with actors does not make you an actor. I have told my artist friends to write their memoirs. They told me that once they see me succeed, after all these many years of seeing my seemingly useless efforts, then they will write their memoirs and follow the road that I had paved for them.
Good luck to them, but if I were you, act now, get my art or make art. Support the 5-year old artist whose parent promised to release a comprehensive art catalog. If you get that 5-year old's art, and mine, I would be honored to be in the same art catalog that you will produce. I'm already successful at that point. You have gotten the mission just right.
I have already claimed to have written the most book-length artist memoirs in the world. Dethrone that claim. Barter. Use ghostwriters. Success to me means facing God one day and saying, I wrote my memoirs and left the world a legacy of books and art. I will not tell God, smiling and proudly, that I encouraged a run for my art by announcing a schedule of exponentially increasing prices that reached 9 figures. I'm sure God knows we had fun.

JOIN THIS GROUP

If you want to try out #valzubiriagenda, in any capacity, join this group. Let others know about this group as well.
If you are an artist, you can let everyone know here that you will produce your memoir, art catalogs, etc. It's okay if you don't know how to go about publishing yet, I will discuss this. Please be honorable enough to produce what you promise to produce.
If you want to meet fellow artists, investors, resellers, etc., join us here.
If you are a book writer, editor, proofreader; if you can photograph art pieces; if you are a book designer, etc., join us here. Let us know if you charge, barter for art, or both.
If you have your own tips and knowledge to share, join us here.
If you have underaged artists you are managing (parents, etc.) join us here.
Join this group if you want to sell works. Post your works. You web links. I'm sure I will.
You can announce meetings in your area. You might have meeting rooms, a café, restaurant, etc. where people can meet. In the future, you can have the regular show and tell, where books can be shown and shared.
​
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, Artist, Memoirist
Underaged artists are welcome here, so please be mindful of your language. We cannot post your adult-oriented art pieces, but you can direct us to a separate page or community. There will be limits to your posts, and there will be adult-oriented art that we cannot allow to be posted.
Thanks for reading. Please let me know if I need to edit some parts. Please share and join this group. - Valentino Zubiri, Dollman, artist & memoirist

I’m a college student, and my first car was a civic that recently passed away (the transmission needs redone and I really don’t want to put that kind of money into it.)
I am starting to get into cars and I am looking to replace my civic with a sports coupe. The problem is I live in the snow belt and I really need something reliable and safe to commute in so rwd is not practical for me. I know that a sports car with fwd is kind of blasphemous, but I’m looking for a sports coupe with fwd that is reliable and easy to maintain (hopefully something I could learn to work on myself). I’m looking at 90s to early 2000s models mostly. I don’t necessarily need a speed demon, just something faster and more fun to drive than a commuter sedan, everything I’ve been looking at is 140-160 hp.
From my research it seems like my best options are a toyota celica, a civic si which I have had trouble finding in the year range I’m looking for, a del sol which is also hard to find, or a monte carlo which my partner already has and I don’t love the body style of. If anyone has any recommendations it would really be appreciated.

Cigarette Daydreams
If there is one song that encapsulates my childhood and young adult years, it's "Cigarette Daydreams" from Cage the Elephant. Cage is that band that popped into my life in High school and just stuck with me ever since. And I'm so grateful for them because they've never really strayed too far from their roots, but definitely changed their sound (for the better), but not their style!
Anyways!
I know that many would say this song hits them for the same reason, and most likely, rightfully so!!! It's so good and is able to gather and glue our precious memories and feelings together!
I remember when it first came out, I was in a place and time of my life where huge changes were taking place, and I didn't even realize it. I had moved (not too far) from my home town, and had made a new life and new friends.......but still kept my OG homies close and visited them often. At the time, the song had resonated pretty hard with me. But now when I hear it, it makes me tear up.
There are a lot of songs and music that "takes me back" to certain times. Like a certain scent or image does. It takes you back to your childhood or to a place where life felt so meaningful at that moment.
But this song hits so hard that it's hard to listen to it sometimes because it makes me feel like I'm back hitting up random parties with old friends (new and old at the time), hot boxing my car, going on road trips, and just BSing around campfires.
It's such a bittersweet song to me.
Its like this: It takes me back to only a few years ago, and YEARS beyond those years and makes me feel like I'm back there.....and even today with where I'm at and the friends that I have, it resonates so much because of the memories I'm making now!

Hello! I am currently a Navy spouse and I have always wanted to join. I have wanted to join since after high school but my husband joined before me and I’ve never seen a “right” time to join. I am 20 years old and I just want to join now even if it’s not the right time. Well this last Christmas we visited home about 12 hours away and I had trouble on the way there with a sick stomach and I decided to go to my family doctor to try to get something for the way back. He diagnosed me with GAD and gave me medication (citalopram) that wouldn’t even kick in until we were back home. I specifically asked for something for the car ride back and way given medication that takes 4-6 weeks to work. The prescription was given at the end of December and I have been off of the medication for 3 months. Well we are also PCSing to Japan and I went through the Overseas screening and they asked for a letter stating my Dr knows I’m off the medication and I’m doing well without it. I want to join but the recruiter wanted me to get a psych evaluation but Tricare doesn’t cover it and it costs $800 for them to do one to say it was a misdiagnosis. I was seen for my overseas screening physical I had to apply to be put on the EFMP because I haven’t been off the medication for more than 6 months. I mentioned everything to my Dr here and that I wanted to join and she said it shouldn’t hurt my chances and even mentioned there was a change on MANMED saying it was chapter 15 or 16 but I can’t find it. I wanted to join before having to go through with my overseas screening and go to Japan with my husband but I’ve hit brick walls every corner. I’ll have to PCS to Japan and try from there. I just want to join. How can I get around this?

Hello everyone..im in the market for a used car. Im looking to put around 7-8 thousand down and finance the additional 5-8 thousand. For reference I'm a single dad of a 13 yr old girl. She plays both travel hockey and travel lacrosse,so lugging around equipment is a mandatory. In this case...size matters a lil bit. I have a few cars that I'm looking at. Today I went to look at a 2018 BMW 430i Gran Coupe. I think this car looks great and was excited to go see it. The photos are here. It's a dark grey with black leather. Beautiful 1 owner car. When i got there i was shocked to see that it's substantially lower to the ground than I originally thought. This doesn't completely cross it off my list but it is definitely giving me some pause. Let me also point out that i understand these are all luxury brand vehicles that are substantialy more expensive to maintain. Theyre also relatively high mileage vehicles. In my price range i am somewhat confined to a higher mileage car....The others I'm considering are:
2015 BMW 535I X drive with 91,000 miles. It's white with black leather. Dealer is asking 14,941 + 995 dealer fee and 6% sales tax
2015 AUDI SQ5 3.0T Prestige with 153,000 miles. It's grey with black leather. Dealer is asking 10,278 + 995 dealer fee + 6% sales tax
2012 Range Rover Sport HSE with 104,000 miles. It's Navy blue with tan leather. Dealer is asking $11,559 + 995 and 6% sales tax
Lastly the BMW 430i Gran Coupe is a 2018 with X drive and 125,000 mile. The dealer is asking $13,299 plus 995 dealer fee and 6% sales tax.
After putting the 7-8 thousand down my payments would be between 125-175 per month over a 36 month lease.
Here are the pics and thanks in advance to anyone who read this far

29 years old w/ a 3 month old and a SAH GF 1.3M in real estate w/ 325k mortgage debt 50k in Roth IRA 100+K in cash and stocks 49% interest in a company that does 2 million in sales a year 100% interest in a smoke shop/vape store that does 9k a month in sales. It cost 5.5k to stay open each month that’s employees, rent, and utilities. Merchandise cost 3,600 a month. I had a partner who left the business to me for $1 so he could go back to school. I spent all of the money to open the store and thought he would run it. After 4 years, he bounced. I had a job making 200k a year, but I can’t find a comparable one without moving and uprooting my family.
I’m burnt out and looking for some help to get to the next level. Im thinking about selling all of my properties and trying to sell my vape shop for whatever anyone will give me. If I could figure out how to get another million or two, i think I would be set.

Hi,
I'd just like to let my story somehwere off my chest. It's not a special story, just somebody's boring life story. But as a 25 year old girl, it all makes me feel really tired. Other than everything written below, I'm normally happy.
As already said, I'm a 25 year old female, living with mom and sister. Dad passed away when I was very little, so my mom raised me and my sister alone. I managed to complete high school, BA and MA (soon) studies and get a job 3 years ago. In that sense, everything sounds good. Anyway, through certain life circumstances, for the past year, I've been the only one working in the house. I'm okay with being helpful to my mother as a way of saying thank you for everything you did for me, but it seems like the life is passing by me while I try to be as thankful as possible. It's hard for me to do anything for myself in any way. My mom and I don't share opinions in relation to anything, so I'd like to move out to try to organize my life the way I want. But it would be almost impossible for me to pay the rent and bills for myself, and provide for mom and sister at the same time. I'd like to buy a car for myself, but it's really hard to save some money for myself when my mom constantly has new plans and wishes. Those plans and wishes are, as she says, for me and my sister. But the truth is I don't care about for instance new furniture in the house. It's not something I want. I want to go and live my life just a little bit, the way I want, without being controlled all the time. Sounds like a paradox - being grown up, educated and completely financially independent girl at 25, but at the same time spending youth in the house, because in the end I'm not independent. Man, I don't ever go to vacations. Ever. Mom didn't develop a habit for us to do so, maybe couldn't afford it. Now I could afford it, but first I'm not used to it. Second, I'll give my everything to mom, to fulfill her wishes. Third, 'take your sister too'. The truth is, I wanna rest from them. Yes, there's my sister who's 2 years younger than me, dropped out of her studies, and is not confident enough to work. She's completely healthy. I have no idea why she's been just sitting in the house for the past year. She just has issues with her confidence. I really have no time to think about that problem as well, since I travel to another city for work, study and think of million other things.
I'm not trying to make myself look huge. I don't think I am. Those are normal things in life. I'm just sometimes too tired, and no person that has any interaction with me in my life is aware of how hard I try to keep everything in order and how tired I am.
I don't even care if I get banned, judged or ignored here. I don't even care if I sound frustrated, because I am a bit. I understand I should fight for myself, but it's hard to find a line between fighting for yourself and being rude, disrespectful and unthankful. I'm just leaving this post and this sentence here as a wish for myself, as a wish sent to the universe to help me become a better person, stronger, and push me to live my life with full lungs, the way I want and enjoy the life for at least a small portion of time.

I originally posted this one findapath but then someone commented and recommended that I post here. I'm not sure if this will get any action but I just thought I'd try it and see. I feel stuck. I have no idea what to do
I'm currently 19F but I will be 20 next month. This month makes 2 years since I graduated high school and I wanted to go to college but didn't because I didn't have the money nor did I have scholarships.
My parents are both poop so they were no help at all. I went from working at walmart and now I'm at amazon but it's taking a toll on my body. I'm skinny but my bones are bad. My knees hurt, my feet, and my back. I feel like I'm wasting my life away and it makes me sad. Time has been going by so fast so I know in the blink of an eye I will be 30 and feel even more bad about wasting my life away at amazon.
I really need more money as I stay with my grandparents right now because neither of my "parents" have their own place. Sometimes I feel like my life is a complete joke. I'm tired of being with my grandparents because they're old so the way they think is just odd. Plus I feel like a burden.
I want to move out but I don't have the money to do so because last year I was in an accident, totaling my car and so I had to get a new one and start all over with my payments. And my insurance skyrocketed. So now my car payments are $335 and my insurance is $445 plus my phone bill which is $105. So that's already $885 I have to kick out a month when I only make about $2000 a month because amazon doesn't pay that well.
I just feel like my life is so pointless and I will never find my purpose. I don't know what I want to do. I hate waking up everyday just to go to amazon for 10 hours and feel like I want to cry 24/7.
I also think I'm having a crisis because I've been wanting to just up and move to another country. I thought about studying abroad. Idk. I just need something else that could get me more money. I hate being sad every single day. I want to move out. I'm willing to try anything. But I really don't want a job with commission pay. Also if there was a way for me to go to college maybe not for free but for a cheaper price, I would. Though I'm not sure what I would major in.

On Sunday, March 22nd, 2015, 31-year-old Dean Roche set out from his home at Hebron Park, County Kilkenny, Ireland by taxi to travel to Ballyfoyle, a journey north through the county of about 20 mins plus. Dean Roche had travelled there to purchase a cheap car he had spotted for sale on social media.
He reached the car seller’s private property and after about an hour completed the sale and received the car logbook. After leaving the seller, he crashed the car a short distance away and headed back on foot in the direction he had come.
The events of the rest of that evening remain clouded in mystery as to what did and what specifically occurred. What is certain is that several incidents of trespassing and attempted house burglary were reported to local gardai that night, and an incident of a car stolen from the premises of a resident.
Dean Roche was reported by witnesses to have been in the general Ballyfoyle area that night after 9 pm. Later, a woollen Manchester United hat and a pair of runners (sneakers) were found in searched fields. It has never been established if the runners belonged to Dean.
Dean Roche was formally reported missing by his family two days later when he still had not returned home to Hebron Park.
Despite extensive searches of the area over the next three years by skilled members of the gardai forces aided by search and rescue teams, as well as the army, also private searches by his family and friends, Dean was never found.
Nine years have passed and the case remains shrouded in limited information released by gardai and consistent local rumours and innuendo. The mystery of what happened to Dean Roche on March 22nd, 2015 lie embedded in the Ballyfoyle locale he visited that evening.
This is one of the most complex and bizarre cases Radio Espial has every covered with a Timeline Analysis. The timeline will be short for a reason. We want to keep basic facts, and while respecting the views of family members—we must try to decipher what was most probable and what was least likely to have happened.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8IiA-2JIJE0

I am a single parent. I have a 13 year old girl and 11 year old boy. The 13 year old refuses to go to school because of bullying, she missed an ENTIRE school year because of all of the back and forth.. i.e, not leaving the house in the mornings and eventually I couldn’t miss or be late to work anymore from staying home wrestling with her, I attempted MULTIPLE times to get cops involved, school courtesy officers etc, they wouldn’t do anything!! I put her in therapy, I got her a psychiatrist, she started meds… STILL wouldn’t go to school. I started getting threats to be taken to jail or into custody because of how much school she was missing. Keep in mind this child is the size of a grown woman, taller than me and hefty, for those of you thinking “why not just physically put her in the car and get her to school”
Every once in a while after having a good therapy session, she would go in to the building but stayed in the office the whole day and never went to class. Eventually we were able to get an educational liaison that helped us be able to transfer her to a private homeschool that would actually accept her because she had all F’s that year for never being in school.
But the issue is, I cannot find a job where I can work from home to be with her. I don’t have family members here that can help. Her father has never been in the picture, and she is destroying my home. When I’m away at work she eats up all the food, makes messes everywhere, damages things I’ve worked hard for, doesn’t engage in any self care and smells horrible, won’t leave the house, won’t socialize. And the attitude is so terrible that when we try to discuss these things or I try to guide her, it turns into huge unnecessary arguments and she thinks I don’t love or care about her. I know majority of this comes from the pain she’s feeling inside, she’s been bullied most of her life and now she is just shutting down. She also is hurting because her Dad wants nothing to do with her. This is causing so much stress and havoc in my household and this has been going on for almost 2 years now.
I’ve sent her away a couple of times to inpatient behavioral facilities within these 2 years, but that seemed to make things worse and make her feel like more of a failure and less loved. I don’t know what else to do! I’ve asked for so much help from my community and nothing is working!!!
Has anyone had a similar situation, or anyone work in the field of troubled teens and have suggestions!!??? Pleaseee, any advice will be helpful. All three of us are suffering tremendously…

im not sure when else to fit this in but this was when i (F19) was 17. well to start, to say "i went," was an understatement. my parents came into my room at 12 am on a sunday night with school the next day and said "we need to talk" followed by "we're sending you away." and within 3 hours i was on a flight across the country with 0 idea on where i was heading with 2 people i had never met before.
but before i get into all of that ill start from the beginning and give some back story; im not going to lie, i was a shit kid. i stole from my parents, anything from alcohol to money to their vapes. i snuck out on multiple occasions, i lied (A LOT). and this all sounds like typical teenage behavior until you factor in the serious mental health issues (depression, anxiety, etc) and serious drug use. and less important but i had straight A's until my behavior got worse and i started failing almost every class. so although my parents were epitome of helicopter parents, i cannot completely blame my parents for sending me where they did, especially after exhausting every other option they could think of, this was their last resort.
now back to me on a flight, my brain was exhausted and didnt want to fight anymore after i had screamed and cried about going for an hour straight so i slept both flights i got on, i barely remember going through the airports. i lived in the midwest at the time, never travelled west before and was never told where i was going, so imagine my surprise when i wake up in texas, i get on another flight, wake up again in colorado. ill spare the boring details but at this point i was filled in on what was happening and told id be joining my group in just a few hours then we'd all head to utah together. at this point im still getting fast food and the adults im travelling with are letting me pick the music in the car (little did i know this was like last time id experience anything "normal" like that for the next 100 days). now i join my group and it goes well, everyone is accepting and nice enough. we get to dinner, oh god, i think i cried bc it was just straight up burnt instant mashed potatoes. everyone else here was used to that, the last thing i ate just 4 hours ago was a chipotle burrito and a chocolate chip cookie. i know i sound like a drama queen but i did get used to it, eventually and things werent that bad once you figured out the tricks to make it better. and i know im making all of this sound like i was pretty unbothered but trust me i was LIVID with my parents. we could send each other a letter once a week, for the first month all i would write is "hi, im doing fine. -(my name)" i probably wouldnt send anything if my camp guides didnt make me.
now i know a big question a lot of people have about wilderness therapy programs are "did you get abused?" and the answer to that is no, not at all, and i never saw it happen either. there was a VERY strict no touching at all policy for both staff and kids. and any kid had to be with 3 people at all times (example, if it was a kid and a kid there had to be another staff with them, if there was a kid and a staff there had to another staff or another kid, basically kids couldnt be alone with anyone) it was definitely a legit program and im thankful everyday i did get fortunate to get to go to better one than others. every week we'd go on a hikes and camp at a different spot each night, we'd do that friday- monday. tuesday-thursday we'd do chores, showers, therapy sessions, etc. (yes, one shower a week, we were allowed to take more but we'd have to carry the shower bag and soap on trips with already 40 pound packs, and usually when we were done hiking it was near dark and time for dinner then bed, so i never saw anyone take more than one a week)
i dont know how all of this worked or when it clicked in my head that i cant be a little shit anymore but it did. 2 years later i can confidently say my parents and i's relationship has gotten significantly better. i moved out after wilderness bc i had my 18th birthday while there (trust me ik, it sucked, not to mention i also missed halloween, thanksgiving, my dads bday, christmas, and new years,) i moved to the east coast and moving out was probably the best decision, i had broke the news to my parents while in wilderness still, parents/siblings (my brothers stayed home for school) can visit about 2 months in for a few days, i dont think ill ever forget the shock on their faces when i told them i wasnt moving back in after this. i told them i was talking to my therapist about what they called aftercare which was essentially exactly what it sounds like, a place to go after wilderness therapy for more care.
my therapist and i had found a place on the east coast and my parents agreed to pay for it, seeing i was doing much better and they wanted to keep it going. after i got there and got access to my phone back, i did what any single newly 18 year old would do and downloaded tinder, within a week i had a date with a guy who after another 2 weeks became my boyfriend. (sounds fast i know, he told me he knew i was the one after he found out i could start a fire without fuel or a match, he's a big outdoorsy guy lmfao, thanks wilderness therapy for teaching me bow drilling?) he was really accepting and understanding of my situation, it was hard to see each other because i was still under strict rules in my aftercare (only allowed to leave for 2 hours a day without reason 24 hours ahead of time) but we made it work until i confided in him i was getting harassed by my roommate there. after that he moved me out with him within a couple weeks even though we hadnt even been with each other 2 months yet. (i say all of this for a reason, you'll see) now i dont know what me and him were thinking because i had just moved and had 0 money to my name, and he would go out of town for trips once a month which worked for him but now his rent and food costs doubled but we were determined to make it work, especially because we wanted to prove my therapist wrong who had said before i moved out of the aftercare house "if and when, because inevitable you will ask your parents for money because you wont be able to do this alone" this aftercare was supposed to help me get things like my GED, a job, my license, or anything else to help me become independent. and, 2 months of being there, they didn't do any of that. i was basically in the same state i showed up in.
so yes after moving in with my boyfriend we did struggle for about a month, then i got my GED, then a job and my license process started within 2 months. here i am a year and 3 months after moving in, we have our own place, i still have the same job, i have my license, i have a car, and obviously im still with the same guy.
i guess my point of this post were a couple things,

1. parents, please please please do your research before giving someone else complete care of your kid, i have no doubt in my mind that if i was sent somewhere worse for my mental health i would be a lost cause at this point if not worse, it is so extremely important that the '"help" you're giving is actually helpful
   
2. has any one else gone through something similar? havent met many with the same type of backstory.
   
3. there is hope and things do get better.
   

and 4. i guess just to share my story.