When the nukes flattened the world, only 9 people were able to make it to this Vault that was made for 300 people, the society experiment that they wanted to create was not going to be sufficient with just 9 people, this led to them brainstorming on ways how they could survive, this is when two of the dwellers who were an scientist & doctor came up with the idea to create an experiment to inject multiple personalities in all 9 dwellers with nano technology that were AI organisms, these organisms were made up of human DNA & man-made technology that were impossible to see with the human eye because of how tiny they were.
The reason why they wanted to give everyone multiple personalities was so the original people born in their bodies could rest while other personalities could perform the tasks needed, this meant allowing parts of the brain to sleep so other parts of the brain could stay active & keep the body awake indefinitely... Then they could do all of the tasks to stay alive. If they didn't have multiple personalities then they would lose their sanity from staying awake 24/7 performing tasks, hence why they needed multiple personalities with AI organisms to give the people a break & rest so they could stay alive.
Thanks to the scientist & doctors working together, they were able to do this in the Vault after months of working on this nano technology, everyone was over worked & tired & already feeling depressed so when the first day came to inject everyone with this technology, it went smoothly as everyone cooperated because they understood what was at risk if they didn't, then the first night came and the original owners of these bodies went to sleep in their minds while the AI organisms took over & generated entire unique personalities where they acted like any human did, these personalities were by definition still human but it was powered by the AI organisms to keep parts of the mind awake. They knew the situation & started their tasks right away, they still socialized with each other when they could like humans do, they still had to eat & drink, use the bathroom, etc. They are still human after all.
Then the morning came after that night & the original people woke up, they were pleasantly surprised that everything went well, they have no memory of it whatsoever but they were able to relax & do their tasks without any stress or sense of impending doom the following day, then when it was time to sleep again, the AI organisms awoke but unfortunately the previous personalities weren't "saved" from the night before so the AI organisms had to create new personalities all over again to perform the tasks needed to stay alive, nobody was harmed & nothing was lost except those generated personalities each day, this went on each & everyday, creating a loop of new personalities everytime the AI organisms were active.
The original people didn't know this because they have no memory of it ever happening therefore nothing was done about it. This went on for weeks, until one personality changed all of that, it was the personality of an unborn parasitic twin that was conjoined very early during pregnancy in their mother's womb but their body stopped developing, however, a piece of that parasitic twin was able to grow by "latching itself" or "merging" with the original persons mind before they were fully developed, they laid completely dormant and unable to awake due to the complex brain's defense mechanism that nobody still understands to this day, however the AI organisms changed all of that.
When the Parasitic twin woke up, they had all of the original twin's memories, thoughts and knowledge, and everytime the original twin woke up, the parasitic twin lost control & fell asleep for the day but they were never lost because they were part of the brain & had overwriten the AI's organisms, the original twin still has no idea about anything, so as time went on, when the secret twin was awake, they could secretly work on ways to gain full control of the original twin's body because they never consented to sharing "their" body with the original twin.
Then it happened, The Parasitic Twin had freed themselves from the original twins mind and things started to go wrong, they became twisted & inhumane as each day went on because they developed many dissocial & dissociative disorders, which eventually led them to wanting to gain full control over the other eight dwellers through neuro-linking with their AI organisms, similar to WiFi connections these days.
When that day came, 8 lives were lost but their bodies still lived on, The parasitic twin gained control & became a hive mind through all dwellers with one same goal,

To Stay Alive.

To be continued...
The ending I will leave it up to the readers (aka you) to come up with your own! This is an open ended story, so feel free to share your own endings in the comments below :)
I hope you enjoyed reading!

My bf and I are financially comfortable. We have stable jobs, stays with our parents and no other commitments. I love to travel and when we go on vacation, I pay for my share for everything. We had plans for two vacations this year to neighboring countries, and I suggested going on another vacation for this year but he told me that it was "excessive". I tried to find out what were his concerns but he did not share anything except that he thinks two vacations a year is sufficient. I asked if he would then be alright with me going on solo trips or with my family, but he was not agreeable to that, and this essentially meant that it is his way or the highway but after months of convincing him he reluctantly agreed to consider going on a third vacation.
My birthday was this week and in the days leading up to it I told him that I'm eyeing some skincare which is more expensive than what I would usually spend on. We have the tendency to be open about the gifts we want from each other as we prefer giving practical gifts, and we tend to not mind the cost of it as long as our gifts are put to good use. He mentioned to keep to the budget of three hundred which was too much since what I wanted cost lesser than that, hence out of curiosity I asked what made him derive that amount and he said "because fifty bucks would not be enough for you".
I was previously already upset when he said that going on three vacations a year is excessive, and this comment made me more upset because it felt that he is insinuating that I am too expensive to be in a relationship with. I told him that what he said do not sit well with me. He proceeded to throw a huge tantrum and raised his voice at me in public midway through our meal, berating me for starting an argument and stirring shit which caused me to breakdown and cry.
I walked away and returned after I have calmed myself down and tried explaining to him why I am upset and he proceeded to throw another tantrum at me and continously defended himself and said that he feels that what he said was ok and there is nothing wrong at all. I finally snapped too and told him that while he is entitled to his feelings, my feelings are as valid as his, and I am telling him that I am hurt by his words. I asked if he is telling me that his feelings are more important than mine and so what I feel don't matter at all? We went home in silence and after we got home, he transferred me a thousand dollars which further angers me. That was never the point, I never wanted his money. The fact that he still did not understand the reason why I was hurt even though I tried to explain it to him and just tried to resolve it with more money felt offensive to me.
I cried for hours thereafter and told him that if this relationship is becoming too expensive for him to sustain then perhaps we should just call it quits. I do not wish to sacrifice my freedom of being able to travel for someone who feels that I am only worth fifty dollars despite our years of being together and after standing by him all these while through hardships. I then transferred him his money back, adding a fifty bucks to it and I told him if I am only worth fifty bucks to him, I will pay him fifty to buy myself out of this relationship.
He has been asking to talk since but I don't see any point to it since the past two times we tried to speak ended up with him throwing tantrums at me. He said that he has been trying to make amends but I am not giving him the chance to but I pointed out to him that making amends starts from apologizing which he had not done so. Since then, he has been telling me how sorry he is over text and that is about it. I feel so dead inside because this was no longer the man I saw in him when we first got together. AITAH for not giving him another chance? Am I being too sensitive?

Me and my girlfriend are together for 6 months from the beginning we had a bumpy start with her packing the few things she had at my apartment (where she sleeps 4-5 times a week ) . Most of the time we had an argument about something stupid that I said jokingly or something funny that happend at work with a female co worker . Those arguments then ended in here taking her stuff and leaving . Afther a couple of hours she then would start texting or calling me all emotional telling me she was over reacting and that she wanted to come back . After few days ago I came back from a military exercise (I was there two weeks ) while she is still on vacation with a female friend and my apartment is spotless clean with even a little card on the table saying how much she misses me and expressing here love . During my exercise I never had an extreme feeling of missing her (I don’t know if it was the exercise mindset I was in or some other reason) and even cheated on her one drunk night . Now I’m home and first of all don’t regret the cheating part all that much and I do miss her but not as much as she does mis me . She is a great girl and does everything for me . But I just don’t know what to do . Do I breakup ? Give it some more time ? Come clean about the cheating ?

Back in 2012, I started the process of leaving my abusive ex husband. While his abuse was mostly verbal and emotional, during the divorce, he got physical.
I had filed for default in the divorce and this set him off. He called the bank and had my bank account frozen and then came to my house to take things. I went in the garage to try and stop him and he hit me in the face. I called the cops and he was arrested. I went down to the court house the next day and got a restraining order.
During this time, child support opened a case. This enraged him even more and he made contact via a third party, claiming I was psychotic. I documented the restraining order violation with a police report and went about my life.
A few weeks later, I was out with the kids on the 4th of July, when I got a call from the Sheriff’s Dept. My ex had called them and claimed I was suicidal. They looked and saw I had a restraining order against him so they were calling to check on me. I told them I was fine and I was out watching fireworks with my kids. They said to have a good night. I thought that was the end of it.
About a month later, I had taken an Ambien, but instead of laying down, I did the dishes. Then I couldn’t remember if I had taken my pill or not, so I took it again, not realizing I had already taken it. I was looking over old messages in my email and found an email from my ex. I felt bad about how things were between us. I texted him, “I’m not gonna bother you anymore. Let’s just try to be amicable from now on.” . I put my phone down and fell asleep.
A short while later, I saw flashlights in my bedroom window. I got up to find the Sheriff’s Dept at my door. I opened the door and they told me that my ex had called them and said I was suicidal. I told them I had a restraining order against him. They asked to come inside and I let them in. A fatal mistake.
I explained that things were very stressful between us and that I had texted him I wasn’t going to bother him anymore and requested that we try to be amicable. I showed them my phone. I told them that I had taken an Ambien and went to bed. They asked to see my pill bottle. I gave it to them. They counted the pills and that’s when it was discovered that I took 2 pills instead of 1. The Sheriff wanted to take me to the hospital to get checked out. I cooperated with them.
They called my ex to come and get the kids, but his phone was off. I had to give them his room mates number. I told the Sheriff, “If he really thought I was suicidal, why would he turn his phone off after calling you out here? He is just harassing me.” They got ahold of him, he came and got the kids and they drove me to the hospital.
The hospital counselor comes and talks to me. I explain that I have a restraining order against the person claiming that I’m suicidal. I took the extra Ambien by mistake. It was an accident. I’m not suicidal. I’m under the care of a therapist as my divorce is very stressful. She refuses to call my therapist and instead places me on a 5150 psych hold. Now I am terrified. I’m being locked away at the request of someone I have a restraining order against.
They put me in an ambulance and ship me two hours away to the looney bin. Because it is Saturday, I didn’t see the psychiatrist until Monday. I spent that two days in utter shock. My abuser made me disappear and he used the Sheriffs to help him do it.
Monday comes. I see the psychiatrist. I explain that I have a restraining order against the person claiming I’m suicidal. The Ambien thing was an accident. My therapist can verify everything. He tells me if my therapist backs my story, he will end the hold and send me home. He calls my therapist. My therapist demands that they release me immediately. Psych tells me he will work on getting me out of here.
I used the phone at the nurses station to check my voicemail. I have a vm from my ex’s attorney saying that my ex filed for sole custody of the kids and the hearing was tomorrow. That’s when it hit me. He had me locked away on a 5150 to get the kids in his possession to file for custody to get out of paying child support. I played the message for the nurse. They got my discharge done and got me out of there within an hour.
I showed up to court the next day. His attorney approached me and asked if I would be willing to sign custody over to my ex. I stared at him until he backed away from me. When they called our case, it turned out the filing fees weren’t paid so the court refused to hear the case. We were rescheduled to the next day.
I left the court house, got a letter from my therapist and copies of all police reports. I came back the next morning and provided everything to the judge. The judge refused to give my ex custody and referred us to mediation. He instructed my ex to return the kids to me immediately. My babies were home that night.
After this incident, I was afraid to pursue the restraining order. If he was able to weaponize the Sheriff’s Dept against me in my own home with a restraining order in place, I would never be safe in this town. I had to find a new plan. I had to find a way to leave town.
6 months later, after giving away everything I owned and moving out of my place, I showed up to the court house on a crisp spring morning where I was granted permission to leave the state of California with my babies. We walked out of the court house, got in the car and drove away. We reached Las Vegas by midnight. That wasn’t our final destination, just the first part of our journey. And that is the story of how I escaped my abuser.

Let me preface by requesting that you please keep any negative opinions on the age gap to yourself if that’s all you want to express. I am fully aware of the age of my partner and am a fully consenting adult. Thanks!
I moved in with my partner after I couldn’t afford rent anymore, I lived in a 4 bedroom condo with 3 roommates and paid $700 a month, but 2 of them decided to move elsewhere. The remaining roommate and I decided not to try to find two replacements so that we could continue to afford the place. Unfortunately nothing else in the area was affordable either after months of searching. Since starting the search my partner had enthusiastically offered that could move in with her as long as I wanted, and had occasionally alluded to wanting it to be permanent, but I was hesitant to take her up on the offer because I was intending on living independently for a while longer. Ultimately it was my only option besides moving back in with my parents or living in my car.
I lived on the third floor and had several pieces of furniture and roughly a small uhaul full of stuff (mind you both my parents helped me get everything inside in the first place) that I needed to move and store in either her small condo or a storage unit across town because I didn’t want to try to force everything i had into her place especially if it was going to be temporary like I originally thought.
Like I said in the title I didn’t explicitly ask for her help. I don’t think. However there were several nights across several weeks where I had expressed significant stress about the amount I needed to move, and she’d been to my room all the time and had seen what I had, so you’d think she would imagine it might be hard for her 5’1” gf to haul everything to my name down 3 flights of stairs load everything into the car then unload it at its new destination.
I had been chipping away each day but I still had no idea how to get my furniture out so I put it off until the last minute (as in day before the lease was up, yeah i know) and so I had to take off work rent a truck from Home Depot and had the good fortune to remember I have a family friend attending a nearby college who was willing to help me carry the furniture I couldn’t manage to get down myself and help me load it all on the truck and subsequently into the house and storage unit.
Partner didn’t really have anything to say about any of this? Just was incredibly casual while I was losing my mind lol. I know I could’ve asked her help but she made comments like oh you don’t have that much and made me feel like it would be easy to do on my own. However I feel like if it was her moving in with me the only thing I’d be thinking about is helping her move everything. And hell this was my first move after my first home away from my parents so it was a bit of a deal. She knew that. She has moved many times, she knows how stressful that shit is and didn’t offer a hand not even once? I feel my blood boiling now.
So yes I could’ve asked for help, but did I need to? Am I just a big adhd-having baby that wouldn’t have had an issue if i had better time management to begin with?
TL;DR Moved in with my partner who never once asked if I need help moving

My baby’s first birthday just passed and I’ve been reflecting a lot on why this arrangement and relationship didn’t work for me. As per my past posts, I recently left my relationship with our child and there are lots of reasons why. We came together as a ‘family’ to celebrate ours baby’s birthday as it was the mature thing to do / that’s what he wanted so I happily obliged. As an ex-‘stepmom’, we have lots of feelings that are often ignored, we are silenced as we’re not the ‘real parent’ however are expected to act and love and care like real mother’s do. Most of the emotional and domestic labour falls on us, particularly because we’re female and these partners can’t be assed half the time with doing this stuff. I’m not quite sure it’s the same for stepdads but I’d love to hear more about your experiences. Here’s what I reflected on… it’s a long one sorry! - I hated how the SKs were raised. They don’t have to answer people when they’re spoken to (waiters, doctors, relatives etc) which I find embarrassingly rude. They look unkempt and messy, this is especially mortifying in public. I’m not talking about grubby little babies, that’s to be expected, but 7 - 14 years old should be well groomed; not roll out of bed and go out for the day in their grotty tracksuits. They’re iPad kids and are allowed to be on them 24/7 which I don’t agree with. They don’t even leave the house on the weekends to go out and do activities at either house unless it was me taking them (and paying for it too!) this is not how I would raise my child. It’s 100% their parents’ fault. - it fell on me, as a first time mom, to foster relationships between the half siblings. Their dad would hang back whilst he would expect me to ensure they are present for bath time or other important things concerning my baby. To be breastfeeding, pumping around the clock on zero sleep and then having to sit there and try to force an iPad kid to care was exhausting and quite frankly not my job, especially whilst their dad is sitting there on his phone. - the financial aspect. It was expected of me to pay half for children which aren’t mine. This included the house he rented which included two extra bedrooms that I didn’t need, the groceries which would fill their lunchboxes, the ingredients for dinner(s) that would all be gobbled up in one fell swoop plus leisure activities and outings. I would never expect a new partner to pay half for my child, ever. - the constant comparisons between half siblings by their dad and his family. No one wants to hear about how similar the children look (especially when they don’t) when the other kids were to somebody else. No new mom wants to hear about the baby mama’s birth, how she handled pregnancy or first time motherhood, whether she handled it ‘like a champ’. It’s extremely hurtful as everyone is different ! - joining a family doesn’t mean that your own experiences or traditions get cancelled out. I hate when my ex would say “well you joined our family!”. Nope, you also got together with me and I have cultural traditions which are important to me too and important that my child celebrates them as well (like making a big deal about birthdays! I love to celebrate them; they are indifferent). - made to feel like none of my first time mom experiences mattered. There was never any excitement from him towards our baby’s achievements. As a first time mom, everything my baby achieves is unbelievable (like clapping, laughing etc) To him, his children always either did it faster, better, in a funnier way. I didn’t need to hear about those experiences, they weren’t relevant to my experience. I also wasn’t allowed to recoup from my c-section as they came home and partner couldn’t help me as he had to ‘tend to them’. - never feeling at home in the home. Of course his children should feel comfortable at home with their dad, I don’t dispute that, but sadly I didn’t feel like I could be myself there. I couldn’t breastfeed my child in front of the TV or have my own quiet time to just read or decompress. I either had to listen to YouTube on maximum volume or be forced to be smushed into the corner of the couch so they could spread out on their games. I found myself escaping all the time and felt so much happier when they weren’t around. - the relationship not being worth it to endure bad behaviour, tantrums etc. Sadly without the biological bond, it’s much harder to accept bad behaviour from children that aren’t yours, especially ones you can’t discipline. I just found that our relationship wasn’t worth all the bad times. The bad outweighed the good. - no effort being put into our relationship. He couldn’t be bothered doing anything socially, hardly was affectionate etc. He claims he’s depressed but he has no problem travelling solo. He’s just depressed that he doesn’t have a live in nanny / maid that does everything for him regarding the kids.
That’s all I can think of for now. There’s probably so many more but my brain hurts from overwhelm lol Would love to hear if any of these reasons resonated with you & if you’ve stuck it out this far, thank you for reading!

(TW for SA/Rape(?) + brief sexual talk)
Hello, I’m posting this on a burner account, and this is kind of going to be a really long and depressing post I guess, I’m not going to disclose my name or age (Entire family uses Reddit just playing it safe) but this has been bothering me for a really long time and I just wanna get it off my chest, idk if I’m looking for comfort or advice, I just need to get this out somewhere. (Sorry for any grammatical mistakes or typos made, just ignore those, I don’t have the guts to proofread this.)
I’m FTM, I’ve been masculine ever since I was a kid, to the point where in my elementary classes I was friends with mostly boys and would have girls ask me out. My family basically just figured I was a lesbian or something. I wasn’t allowed to have closed doors with girls over or be alone with them unsupervised, but on my 10th birthday, I had one of my girl friends spending the night. At the time, me and my parents slept in the same room, so they figured it would be fine that she slept in the room with us (my parents were on different beds.) Before we went to sleep, my friend told me that she massages her siblings a lot so if I wake up and she is massaging me its just her like sleepmassaging me or something idk, I just said “Okay.” And went to sleep. I woke up early in the morning, she had one hand up my shirt and another in my pants. She did not know that I had woken up, but I began to slowly try and wriggle away from her hands, and eventually when I think she got nervous that I was waking up she pulled them out and away. I sent her home as soon as possible after acting normal with her all morning. I did not know what was happening, (I was too young at the time and did not realize until a few years later) but I was scared nonetheless. I still have not told my family about this.
On my 11th birthday, I had a different girl friend over. The same thing happened with her, except I was awake and it was about 1 or 2 PM, the door to my room was open, but nobody was inside the house at the time (except for my father but he was out back in the laundry room.) She touched me inappropriately, and then insisted that she strangle me because she had a ‘kink for that’ in her words, I refused, but she slammed me against the wall my bed is propped against and began to choke me, it hurt incredibly bad, and when she quit she tried to convince me to do it back to her, and I put my hand on her throat, but didn’t end up squeezing, I just told her I wouldn’t and put my hand back down. After that, I excused myself from the room to go cry in the bathroom for a few minutes, before composing myself and going outside to my mother who was on the porch. I remember all of this vividly. I stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, and then said “Mom, can we please send ___ home early? She’s touching me in places I dont like.” My mom said no, and then told me to “Get over it like you always do.” She sent me back to my room. I have not yet told my family what happened in the room.
Present day, I still present as male (My mother knows this now, but we haven’t had an in depth talk about it and my father does not know.) and I think I might be gay, but I want a girlfriend very badly. I feel no attraction to women, but I want to be able to hold hands in public. I want to go on cute dates and kiss in public. I want to feel like a man. At the same time, I only feel passionate about men, I want a boyfriend so badly it hurts, I want to be loved in that way, but I don’t want to live as a trans man. I just want to be a man. I know that is a terrible thing to think. Its not about me seeing trans men as less of a man, its about how other people would perceive me if they found out I was biologically female. They would treat me differently, I know because this has happened before multiple times. I feel so terrible. I know I cannot get into a serious relationship without disclosing this kind of stuff to my partner, I keep trying to justify it to myself, “I plan on getting all of the procedures done, it will be fine then, right?” And stuff along those lines. It isn’t below me to lie about being biologically male, all my friends think I am, and I wont lie about being a better or more moral person than I am, it is just the fear of getting caught that stops me. I’m young, but I frequently think about my sex life. I will never be able to have sex with someone else because I will never be able to tell someone I’m not actually biologically male, even if I get procedures done so that I have a penis (Which I fully intend to do before even dabbling in sex life,) that wont make me a biological male.
Some part of me deep down wants to be friends with those two girls again. They both knew I was a biological female, and they are both straight. I feel like a man. And the worst part is that I would let them do it again if it meant they would see me as a man. I just want to live as a man, I wish I were born a male and I wish I could have a boyfriend and I wish I could be affectionate with him in public. Everytime I think about this, I start sobbing. I have never confided or cried infront of anyone else about this, but it is eating at me. My pillow is stained from my tears and honestly it looks kind of like a shit stain. This is not fair. I feel like my life has been stolen from me. I will never be able to date or have sex. I dont know where to go or what to do.

Hi Reddit,
I can’t believe I’m writing this post, but this has been on my mind for the past few months and I really need some external input. I need help to figure out if I’m in a toxic relationship, if there’s something I can do to fix it, if I’m over sensitive, or is it time for me to end this?
Context: I ‘M26’ and my girlfriend ‘F25’ have been together for 2.5 years, and known each other for 8 years. We both live in the U.S. but I’m from Europe and she’s from Central America, met in college. Issues started 2 years ago but when things are good she’s amazing (funny/beautiful/caring/makes me feel unconditionally loved/etc) and I always thought the issues were friction we could iron out together. With time I have grown increasingly skeptical of that. This is my first relationship (longer than 3 months) so at the same time I’m worried that maybe I am overly skeptical, that I only see my perspective and fail to see hers. I want to be fair to her, because I love her and care deeply for her as a person, I am just starting to resent the relationship.
History of issues: To me the issues are all centered in my girlfriends anxiety. Frequently, rather than being vulnerable, she projects her anxiety on me and accusing me of all kinds of things. I have both tried to shake off those moments, to recognize that this isn’t her but her anxiety talking, but it still affects me deeply. Not only when it occurs, but when I am doing something and she seems fine I still worry that maybe I will do something wrong and she will snap and this moment will turn to a life or death situation. I have also obviously communicated my concern over this behavior repeatedly, and every time after she takes things too far she apologizes and takes ownership and we come up with a strategy to avoid the issue from repeating. This all sounds very healthy, I think, but the problem is that we’ve had these issues and conversations 25+ times and here we still are. Some things have gotten better for sure but it still feels unbearable to me. Let me provide three examples to illustrate our issues (from my perspective).
Example 1 - 1.5 years ago My best friend and I were victims of attempted robbery from people affiliated with organized crime, the event went to court, and after the trial we wanted to get away from everything. My girlfriend and I had planned to go to a Caribbean island shortly after, so I invited my friend to come a week before my girlfriend and leave the day she arrived. We were both pretty shaken up and just wanted to talk things out and enjoy a tropical paradise. The first night my friend and I arrive (girlfriend still in the US) she starts texting fervently that my friend and I shouldn’t see any of the sights so she and I can see them together for the first time. I get where she’s coming from but this is also a challenging time for me and my best friend so I am not willing to completely sacrifice his week with me to appease my girlfriend. Things escalate and she demands my attention all the time. When my friend and I is out she is calling me 50+ times in a row, texting me that if I love her I would respond and that I am ruing hers and mine vacation and though I’m trying to deescalate I don’t see how to. I end up turning off my phone, although she begs me not to, but I’m still in my head unable to enjoy the night. When I turn my phone back on next day there’s a picture of herself with a cut (very shallow but still) saying I made her do this. This event is the low point of our relationship, and I told her if she ever hurts herself or threatens to hurt herself I’m out, and to be fair to her she has not once since hurt herself. Nonetheless, the calls continue after this (50+ a day) and I spent 3-4h a day on the phone with her and neglecting the trip with my best friend. Damn writing this out really makes me ashamed for not standing my ground back then. Anyways, this really colored the trip with my childhood friend and I think I still resent myself and her for making that happen.
Example 2 - 0.5 years ago I visited a close childhood friend in South America for 2.5 weeks. Because of the events that transpired in example 1, my girlfriend was nervous for my trip. She expressed worry that she would act out in the same way as my last trip. I really appreciated this self-awareness. We therefore talked extensively about how to avoid issues. The first few days were alright, with her being anxious but being vulnerable about it and we managed well, calling once a day and texting 15-20 messages a day (more than I’d want, but that’s a compromise I’m okay with). At this point I make a mistake, but her reactions to it is (in my head at least) not proportional. I told her I was going out with my friend and his friend that weekend, and she expressed that this would make her anxious that I would cheat on her. So I asked what can I do, and we decided I’d send her a text once I left the pre-game, once I left the club, and call her once I got back to my friends place. A little bit much I thought, but I love her so a fair compromise for now. Unfortunately, I got caught up in the moment at the pre-game, and forgot to text my girlfriend. I realized as I was walking home from the club with 25+ missed calls and a bunch of emotional messages about how I forgot because I was around beautiful women and how I don’t love her. Here I understand her pain. She was vulnerable, I agreed to a compromise and I didn’t fulfill my end. 25+ calls is never productive but hey I had some blame here. The following day I call her for 1.5 hours apologizing and we talk things out, and it feels like though she is feeling anxious that she accepts my apology and we have now managed to resolve my mistake. The same night my friend and his friends are going to someone else’s house for a BBQ (which I told my girlfriend about days before). An hour before we are about to leave my girlfriend starts telling me to talk to her on the phone, because I hurt her so bad and when I say I can’t because we are 10 people having a beer before we head out she says she doesn’t care and that I hurt her and now she “wants to make my life miserable”. I tell her “hey I understand you’re upset but I never want to hear those words from the person I love. I know I hurt you but never intentionally”. She says she doesn’t care and keeps calling me non-stop for 40 minutes and I’m worried that if I don’t pick up she will start to call my friend. I try to deescalate and beg her to take a step back and that she is pushing me away by doing this. The whole thing culminates by me getting out of the Uber towards the barbecue and telling my friends that I think my girlfriend and I are breaking up and I need to deal with it. I am crying as I say this and feel so damn embarrassed. Even writing it now I can’t believe this actually happened. Damn. Anyways, as soon as I tell her that I am no longer going to the bbq and I left my friends car she becomes a different person (the person I love) and tells me she is so sorry and realize she took it too far and begs me to order an Uber to the BBQ. She says she’ll pay for it and begs me to go. At that point I’m just so embarrassed at the whole thing and tell her something along the lines of “why the fuck did you push me this far then. I told you you are pushing me away”. I head home, and wonder how someone who loves me so much can intentionally cause me so much harm and I seriously begin to doubt if her and I will ever work. I tell her I don’t think I want to be in the relationship, but that I recognize I’m emotional so I need 7 days without contact to process my thoughts. I won’t block her, but if she reaches out I will. She does reach out (albeit with a nice message) but I still block her.
I probably should have left the relationship here, but damn I love her, we live together, and at this point she was depending on me for her visa to stay in the country. I don’t want to rip all that apart from her. So I say I don’t know if we’ll ever feel okay, but I’m willing to give this one last chance.
To her defense, she take a lot of new steps at this point. She tells her mom and sister everything that happened (including her trust issues and jealousy), she starts with anxiety medication and starts being more vulnerable with her therapist. I am still skeptical that things will actually be okay, but I recognize the effort she puts in and I really appreciate it. The frequency of our arguments decrease, and more disputes now end before they become arguments.
Example 3 - Yesterday My GF flew to Vegas with three of her girlfriends (I know two of them very well) and I know it’s a high risk trip for someone in a relationship but I honestly have complete trust in my GF. I decided to do a dinner with 3 of my friends (who my GF knows equally well, we’re all in a group chat together and do things regularly together) and they invited a 4th person who was part of our sports team (my girlfriend met her 2-3 times, just like me).
She texts me from Vegas asking who’s coming to the dinner and once she finds out this 4th person is coming she asks nicely if we cannot be in someone else’s apartment. When I say hey I’m sorry but I already said we could be at my place she asks at least don’t smoke weed together (my friends are stoners so 100% chance they’ll bring weed), and I say “I’m sorry but I won’t tell them not to and I’ll join In too if they bring it but you have nothing to worry about. I love you and I’ll call you as soon as they leave?” My girlfriend then goes into panic mode and calls me nonstop throughout dinner. I go to the bathroom and begs her to stop, tells her she is ruining this for me, and ask her to trust me. She still calls nonstop until they leave. I try to keep a brave face but again it really ruins the dinner for me.
At this point I have told her how actions like these makes me feel uneasy and prevents me from enjoying life. I told her I need her to trust me. I told her that I won’t have it anymore. And if anything the idea that she doesn’t trust me around 3 people she knows well with a 4th stranger while she’s at a pool party in bikini in Vegas just seems so hypocritical it makes me ever more frustrated.
In her defense: - Her dad cheated multiple times while she was growing up. I understand this makes it excruciatingly difficult to trust a partner. - She started seeing a therapist ~8 months ago. - She now takes medication for her anxiety. - She now has told her mom and sister about her trust issues for the first time in her life. - She began attending codependency meetings regularly. - She says she doesn’t want me to limit my life just for me to communicate better what I’m doing (I think it’s really possible that I’m bad at communicating, because to me this request feels like it comes from a lack of trust).
She is putting in immense effort, but I just feel like I can’t do this anymore. Even when things are good I’m worried that she’s going to explode and that prevents me from enjoying the good times too. I love her and she’s amazing in many ways, but I don’t like feeling responsible for her suffering. I know that by trying to end things she’s going to suffer so much and she’ll beg me to give her another chance. I don’t want to but in those moments I feel like she’s the rational version of herself and that maybe she’ll never explode again. Can I solve my relationship with her? Is it time to leave? Is it fair to leave when she is putting in so much effort? How do I find the courage to go through with it?
Thanks so much in advance, and I’m sorry for such a lengthy post.
TL;DR I think my relationship is toxic and I don’t know if it is fixable, or if it’s time for me to end it? Is it fair to end it when my partner is putting so much effort into the relationship?

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

My cat has been struggling with what we thought was osteomyelitis for a few months. I now think it’s osteosarcoma. We have finally decided to amputate.
I unfortunately planned a trip months ago and will be leaving in two days. I scheduled her surgery for next week when I come back. At the time I still thought it was osteomyelitis. But now I think it’s cancer. With that thought, I wonder if I should ask my parents (who will be babysitting) if they can take her to the vet sooner and have the procedure done. However, they wouldn’t be equipped to help her recover after the surgery. Is it cruel to board her after such a traumatic surgery? Is it cruel to make her wait?
I would postpone the vacation, but my sister went to a lot of trouble to schedule this. It would be unfair to her as well…
All this time I thought it was manageable with antibiotics and we just needed time. Now, looking back I realize all the signs were of cancer. The docs told me it was most likely osteomyelitis, even a feline specialist. But now with her recent changes, we have all concluded otherwise….

I feel as if this page is for fixing a problem in a relationship but I need to use this page to end mine. Yes, my boyfriend (m20) loves me a lot, but him and I (f20) don't see eye to eye. We have been together for a little less than 2 years and we argue all the time and he says he need to fix it but instead of trying to see my point of view, he drops the argument or downgrades me.
Here is some insight on our relationship. We were so good the first year of our relationship. We were best friends for months before our relationship and in the first year we hardly fought. We would call all the time and talk about the most random things. He used to write me huge paragraphs for me to wake up to. Now he plays video games every single night and I never get calls from him. He hasn't written me a paragraph about how much he loves me in forever. When we are together in person we don't talk much anymore. He gets upset that I fall asleep whenever we are together, but honestly I am bored. If I bring up anything he finds a way to argue about it. He gets upset if I am on my phone when we are together and his argument is "if he is watching videos while we are together why should I get my phone out to watch other videos if we could watch them together on his phone?" My argument back is that I don't like watching his videos because I don't really find clips of army movies, motorcycles, or educational videos on stocks interesting. I also suggest that maybe we can watch videos on my phone and he says that my videos are stupid.
It's hard to let go because sometimes we are good and I love his sister. I have already tried breaking up with him and it didn't work. I tried to bring up the conversation three times and I couldn't get the words to come out my mouth so I sent him a text while he was with his friends at frisbee golf saying that it was over and that we need to move on for the good of us as individuals. He replied right away saying that it wasn't over and that he was going to come over whenever he was done with the game. I sent the text at 3pm, he didn't come over until 8:15 to 8:30pm. We both were bawling our eyes out and I kept telling him it was over and it wasn't up for discussion. When he drove off I was heart broken and I am upset that it hurt so bad so when he texted me I came crawling back to him after only 30 minutes from him leaving my house.
This "breakup" happened about a month ago. We were good for about 2 weeks until we started arguing again. We argued about him getting upset that I mentioned a boy I "dated" when I was in elementary school to a group of my old friends in-front of him and he said it was disrespectful. We also argued because I said I wasn't ready to move into a house with him (his requirements for a house was that it had to have two bedrooms so he could use one for his games, 2 bathrooms, and a garage. if you know anything about todays house prices, I wouldn't be able to afford that while going to Nursing school and he said that I should take my money that I have been saving for tuition for the house and that he will save up too but it will take longer because he doesn't make as much as I do)and he is ready to move into a house and I am not at all. He was also saying how he is ready to have a kid i and be married before I finish school but I am not ready at all and every time he brings up our future, we argue.
Breaking up over text didn't work because he showed up to my house, I can't get the words out whenever I try in person. Can I get some advice or pointers on how to do it or start the conversation?

A year and half ago one of my sons childhood friends was in a very difficult situation. She had two teenage children, a dog, two cats and had no where to go. I'll refer to her has Sheila. I'm “retired” while my husband says he's retired ( but never stopped) and we have grandkids; when my son was complaining about how he wished he had space for this friend ...I volunteered. We had the extra rooms for her and the kids, we also had the acreage for additional animals except for the cats. My husband is deathly allergic to cats. Regardless, I talked to my husband, and we then offered her the extra rooms for free. So long as Sheila finds someplace else for the cats. She agreed and she was very appreciative while also being honest with us. She has an autoimmune disease (JRA) and the youngest is autistic while her oldest is trans; she’s a chef at heart and we're retired so she'll take care of the meals. As she already had a job to work from home, those checks would go into savings.
We had a few weeks of near daily talks hashing out how this would work. I'll give the highpoints but these were the general rules:
Her rent is paid via meals. Her children do chores as they’re capable of doing them (cleaning their bathroom, vacuuming, dishes, keeping their room clean, and helping my husband to maintain the main lawn [which is maybe 1000sf] and help as requested with the farm.) She had 1 year to save up for a place of her own. To be rediscussed every 6 months.
We’ve had 3 discussions since, and no she doesn't have the money to move out in this economy. Most of this is due to the 3 hospitalizations through no fault of her own (and the way the economy keeps raw dogging everyone who doesn't have a 6 digit bank account)...we are fine with her and her kids being here. I managed to help the autistic one get into general Ed and he's on his way to graduating. I'm so extremely proud of him, he entered my house as creature who did everything he could to make himself small and acceptable to everyone else. Today, me and him can argue about moral ideologies in an heated manner and after the cool down still wants to sit with me while I watch my brain watch TV. Just the fact that he’s willing to be vocal is my pride in him; he's worked hard to get here and I'm so happy for him. I'll answer questions about that relationship if needed as I'm rambling.
After 3 months of Sheila being here I cook all the meals. She in effort at the start but now after a year and half, I'm do all the meals myself. In the times where I just can't my husband does. I think the last meal she put into this house was for the day after new years which was warming up left overs. Which is what's contributing to my attrition and may make the asshole.
My AITA is about her damn dog. I told Sheila not to give her dog a specific food. Bunny is now older and I just burried my baby boy at 20 years; 7 years after the vet said he'd live a month, I went psycho on his diet and kept him going happy and energetic for 7 years. Sheila has been fine in letting me control the animals diets. And I have become a but of a Nazi; there are some foods that a dog can have young that they can't have when they're older. Garlic is one of them. Bunny is now 7 years, I nevere let her have garlic. Sheila dropped some garlic pita chips into the flow tonight and called Bunny to eat them to clean it up. I screamed
It's a great Dane and Belgium Malinos mix and was 5 years old when I first met it. It's father was a Great Dane and the mother a Malnous-(I'm not spelling it right but I cannot get autocorrect to make it correct)-a bug lazy giant mixed with a hyper working dog. It's friggin neurotic. The first day I met it it jumped up into my face and broke my nose. To be honest she warned me it was a jumper and I didn't respect that warning.
I don't want to be disrespectful but...I broke that dog of jumping in a month of it being in my house. Not because I'd make it negative, but because I’d say no and crowd her her immediately and when she greeted people without jumping I'd get excited and give treats. As my son says, “It's the smartest dumb dog I've ever met.” It is extremely intelligent but...I feel bad for saying this-Sheila has only ever had cats. She doesn't give it direction or jobs beyond sleeping with her. When it doesn't have a job it is loud and destructive, giving itself guidance that it wants from Sheila.
In the first 6 months it destroyed our back yard fence every time Sheila left the property. I feel the behavior is because she's trained it to be by her side at all times. When she wasn't near, the Dog (named Bunny) didn't know what to do with herself and attacked the fence to try to find her. I've managed to get the dog contained, compliant, and sweet.....when Sheila is not around. If she wasn't so big I'd make her my own.
I know there are two sides of a story and I will try to account for Sheila’s but I am going to advocate for my side.
This dog entered my house barking, jumping, chewing, and spazzing as a puppy would but was actually 5 years old. Shiela just told me Bunny is now 8 years old. As long as Sheila is not around Bunny is calm, response, nondestructive, she has jobs in the house (specifically to chase squirrels out of the garden) until Sheila returns and then no matter what is going on Bunny will scream and cry to get close to Sheila.
Sheila works from home and it's generally fine except for the times when Sheila chooses that Bunny should be outside (arbitrarily). I have to deal with Bunny crying and screaming: Sheila is inside, Bunny is out, I think Bunny is neurotic because she knows Sheila is home and that her job is to be BY Sheila. Sheila’s response to this is to either ignore, scream at her, or give treats-but leave bunny outside while Sheila returns to work. Sheila is very talented at focusing on work regardless of what's going on out side. While Bunny is loosing her mind to get close to Sheila, Sheila doesn't doesn't notice unless I interrupt.
The whole goal of Sheila working is for her to save enough to get a house. I'm committed to this, so I've taken over Bunny during work hours which means two of three meals I feed Bunny. I've been feeding bunny for past year while Sheila works.
Today is apart of a two week vacation Sheila has taken for her oldest graduation. Sheila made food for bunny with Garlic in it. I saw it, and I told Sheila that Bunny is too old to have anything with garlic in it as Bunny is now 7 years old (70 years old in human years, they don't deal with toxins like they used to). Sheila got very upset with me and was very verbal that Bunny was not my dog and I had no voice it what bunny ate.
I feel that Sheila has only said this because I have spent so much time in the last year working with her dog, correcting Bunny to get positive behaviors. This summer Bunny has become very nervous about the new automatic sprinklera we have and I've been the one working Bunny through the fear she has darn near sun up to sun down.
Let me be clear, I'm only doing this now because Sheila simply removes bunny from the yard when the sprinklers start, while I have been sitting in the patio (that the sprinklers don't touch) and been trying to get her comfortable with them. They are new and scary for a dog-Sheila is too busy on the computer to work Bunny through her fears so I'm doing it.
When I work through the day with Bunny, by the afternoon timer that sets the sprinklers off Bunny is having a blast chasing and jumping through the sprinklers.
I'm a bit PO’d at Sheila's outrage and need to assert control over Bunny when I said the dog couldn't have garlic any more. I've shared my house for a year an half with 3 people and dog who all seem to have some sort of behavioral issues. I've exterted control where I can with Bunny to have nice days with own my home with her, her children, and her animals. But Bunny is Sheila's dog so....I don't have a voice.
Please don't placate or disparage; AITA and how do I move through this? It's not my dog, they’re not “famil”y, but I honestly want to continue to help all of them. Including Bunny. I need to find a way to get Sheila on board; she doesn't seem to have the time or patience for Bunny beyond bedtime.
P.S. knowing how reddit commentors can go: I don't argue structure or consequences in regards to her children and I've adapted as Sheila has requested. She simply doesn't have any structure for Bunny, while she enjoys the consequences my structure on Bunny.....she now seems to resent that. As it's only resently she's been putting her foot down about Bunny.
While I'm of the mindset: Bunny is her very first dog, her words, she had only had cats before hand. Sheila did pick a mixed breed but...my god did she pick an unpredictable mix. I've adapted as much as I can to help this dog find calm and connectedness. I love Bunny and I've spent so long working on her poor behaviors, editing her diet, giving her a job and a space that belongs to her inside and outside the house. I just want Bunny to live as long and happy as possible but feel if I put my foot down, I'm the asshole.
Mind the Autocorrect. I've re-read 3 times now and still find crappy misspelling and worse grammar as I've only used Reddit on mobile and make a mash of it every time I do. My apologies.
Edit: I'm sorry, I wrote this while having an argument with Sheila. Bunny is 7-8 years old per Sheila just a it ago; she's unsure of the digs age and has only guessed when talking about Bunny. Sheila said she thinks Bunny was 1 to 2 years old when she got her. My jumping in ages of 7 to 8 to 7 is just me being inaccurate as me and Sheila yell at each other and me typing In here in the lulls.
This is a very active argument. That does NOT end in be evicting them.

My wife of 10 years is devorcing me and I don't understand the reasons!
Burner account for obvious reasons.
I've been married for 10 years, and in the relationship for another 5. I thought that I have a perfect marriage: one beautiful child, good career both of us, no financial problems at all, good sex life. Now I am getting a divorce and I don't understand why, what I did wrong, what could I do next, what the hell is happening!
The story goes like this. My wife always said that I am an excelent husband. I always took care of the family, we had decent social life (going out at a restaurant at least every two weeks), vacations, staying evening watching TV together. I always said to her that I love her, she said back. About a month ago, after a business trip, she even bought me as a gift a sticker saying that she loves me.
Two weeks ago I started to feel something was off. I started to see some changes in her interactions with me. At first I did not pay too much attention, but more and more signs started to show: hiding her phone screen from me when using it, using the phone late in the night, using the phone (chatting) as soon as she woke up and immediately going out of bed when I woke up. I started d more and more to suspect what you are already probably thinking and eventually I found "proof". She had sex with another man. He is 15 years older than us.
I was devastated but I thought it was a one-night-thing and we will get over it together. I started to cry one night, she heard me and I confronted her. She admitted and quite fast, less than 5 minutes in the conversation, she dropped the bomb: "I want to divorce" . It was as fast as lightning to me. I tried multiple times to make her change her mind. I said that I will do anything to make the marriage work. I suggested we at least not make a decision now, but analyze what wen't wrong and try to fix things. She does not want it, she sais that she is unhappy for some time now.
She said that for a few months she's been asking questions, trying to prove herself that things are actually good, but (in her own words) "I always kept thinking that this is it? This is the highest of my life and it will be like this for ever? I want more, something exciting. I've always been the perfect pupil, the perfect student, marrying my university boyfriend, having a child, having a career. Is this it?". And yes, she plans to move with the other man eventually and said that she only sees him making her happy.
I am devastated. I can't wrap my head around the situation. How could she been so unhappy and there were no signs. Nobody knew anything. Not her closest friends, not her parents, not me. I don't know what I did wrong and even now she sais that I was a good husband. Even now she sais that she never lied when she said she loved me. Still, she does not budge and won't change her mind. I don't know how things degraded in less than a month this bad.
I have now idea how to fix things, what I should have done different, what is wrong with me and so on. I talked with other friends and even though they agree that she should have told me sooner, all said that "if she is not happy?" and I get it. Happyness is extremely important, but I don't know what is she looking for and even she can't tell me specific things.
I am lost and I have lost the love of my life! And don't even know how this will effect our child.

I live in an apartment with two roommates and live in a loft. It’s great and normally don’t mind it at all, but after living there for a while the constant sound of my roommates pisses me off and constantly wakes me up at night. I’ll be studying/working on an assignment and my roommate will continue to try and carry a conversation with me despite me replying with one word answers or not at all. I’ll tell my roommate that I’m studying and not willing to have a conversation, and i feel like the asshole even though it’s a basic request. The conversations my roommates have are unnecessarily loud, and piss me tf off since it actually prevents me from hearing whatever I’m listening to and even sleeping. I will literally be asleep and my roommates will turn on the sink for several minutes, play video games and constantly talk to their friends, as well as just talking to each other unnecessarily loud. It’s not that hard to realize that’s fucking loud and annoying for me w/out me saying anything, but ig my roommates don’t understand that despite trying to be “considerate”. The lack of consideration is what pisses me off, since they always talk abt past bad roommates. At one point last week, I snapped and told them to shut the fuck up straight up since they were being unnecessarily loud. I do regret it, and still love my roommates and always want to hang out with them, but the excess noise is something that I’ve tolerated for a while, and recently it’s just been frustrating me even more. What annoys me is one of my roommates who always shits on a past roommate he had who was inconsiderate, and loud, but actively does the same thing. Is it too much to ask for some peace and quiet in the living room (AND BASICALLY MY OWN FUCKING BEDROOM, ITS A LOFT)considering I pay a little less in rent and share a bathroom since I live in a loft? ($150 less) I understand the implications of living in a loft, but even paying less, this is too much and I get the feeling my roommates are extremely inconsiderate. AITA?

To give a little background, my (42f) last long term relationship ended after 10 years, three months before our wedding.
Everything was booked and planned and paid for. He picked me up from work one day and confessed he couldn’t marry me because he wasn’t in love with me anymore. There was no discussion, no attempt or willingness to try to work things out. It was just done.
I was broken. After that, once I started to recover I found myself reconnecting with my childhood sweetheart. The more time we spent together the more we discovered we still loved each other. The problem was he was with another girl. I will strongly emphasis that at no point did we ever do anything physical with one another. No kissing, no inappropriate touching, nothing.
He strung me along for a year telling me how unhappy he was and they were sleeping in separate bedrooms and like an idiot I believed him. I know, I know. 🫣
Eventually I told him he couldn’t keep on having what I considered an emotional affair and not tell his gf. He agreed and went home to do exactly that.
Turns out (according to him), that he told her, she broke down and he decided to stay with her. I’m sure everyone else here is not in the least surprised.
After that I decided I’d prefer to be alone than experience the kind of pain and shame of those two “relationships” again.
Along comes my now husband (36m) We met online and bonded instantly. We met in person a bunch of times, flying to and from each others countries until I quit my job and moved to his to be together.
After a few years we bought a house together, then had a baby and then god married. We’ve been together six years now and have been so so happy. We joke about how alike we are and how we’re practically the same person just of the opposite sex.
He’s not perfect, neither am I but we’ve always made it work and we might disagree and snap at one another occasionally but we’ve never had a massive blow out fight.
I’ve been sick for a while and it’s made me depressed, I’m also not working because we’ve also moved to yet another country where I’m not fluent in the language and am six months pregnant with our second child.
Now here is the problem. We’ve grown distant, he’s stressed and tired, I’m stressed and tired and / or sick and our son is a wonderful, kind, animated little soul who has endless endless energy but we both have struggled with him because we don’t have the energy to keep up with him. He’s not got any issues that we’re aware of, nothing has been highlighted by his kindergarten teachers except a short tempter but everyone admits that he’s a handful due to his boundless energy, endless chatter and somewhat wilful nature.
I’ve started to feel as though my husband doesn’t love me anymore. He’s admitted he feels put off from penatrative intercourse due to the pregnancy and honestly that’s quite common. He’s also told me how he feels like he never has any alone time.
Either myself or our son are always home and he feels stretched thin and over stimulated. As a loner, I totally understand those feelings but part of me worries he’s also falling out of love with me.
He admits that a spark has diminished and he hopes it comes back after things settle down and assures me that he still loves me.
We have a friend couple who we’ve recently started chatting to more and spending more time with and we both seem closer to the girl of the couple. I’m finding myself feeling insecure and jealous that he may be developing feelings for her.
She and her boyfriend seem happy and committed. They’re buying a house together and she’s talking about wanting kids with him. But when we’re out or hanging out as a four she and my husband still seem to be more interested in what they’re doing than their partners.
She’s younger and a very giggly bubbly girl and I like her but I’m stressed and don’t have that same happy energy I once had.
I suspect I’m over reacting and hormonal from the pregnancy but I can’t get past these feelings and I’m now almost in tears some nights and actually cried the other night when I told my husband how I felt.
I know he won’t cheat on me but that doesn’t mean his heart won’t want someone else.
What can I do to get over my insecurities?
TL;DR I’m worried my husband has fallen out of love with me, based on my past experiences and probably pregnancy hormones. How do I work on myself to get over this?

Long story short: i’ve lived in dc for the past 25 years and am looking for a drastic change of pace. Willing to go to other continents, currently have USA and IRE passports. Accounting bachelor’s and master’s with 2 years experience and speak ENG, ESP, GER, and JPN. Got to therapy to address underlying issues and make myself better. Have 2 tattoos on right arm and cover them up on a regular basis.
Hi there guys, hope you all are doing well.
So i ended up having a quarter life culminate up to a point where Ive started going to therapy about myself. I got fired back in February as an accountant and have struggled to get another job in the same field. So at this point, im willing to take a lesser paying job in order to move somewhere else, it doesnt matter what, and i can do serving/bartending and willing to do hard labor. Ive always had my identity as living in Washington dc for a long time, but now im at a point where i’ve gotten sick and tired of where I currently am in my life, and I feel like a part of that is the environment which I have grown up and learned in. And I 100% believe that i love it is due to the area which ive grown in and the culture of that area. But part of me thinks that ive gotten too comfortable and im not actively pushing myself to be better
i’ve taken two vacations this year to different countries both Japan and Canada, specifically Montreal. I really enjoyed my time with both of these places and part of me feels like I romanticize too heavily about living there. whether it’s because of how I currently am or if I want something better.
That being said : I have dual citizenship with Ireland and America along with family over there. I don’t want to claim that i know but i believe i would be able to get a work visa in a european country easier than solely with my USA passport. I currently speak Spanish, German, and Japanese and actively study languages as a hobby. Im willing as well to learn French if some opportunity comes up for it as well. that being said, I really enjoy the environment of Montreal and I feel like I fit in well here. Theres this unique feeling to it that i really like like its almost european and i think thats something i really like about the city. My problem us im not sure entirely what i want, other than realizing where maybe I feel stuck and want to go to a different place.
So where would you guys do if you were me? Thank you.
So where should I go? Thank you.

Every time Charlotte shares some crazy wedding stories I reflect on my own crazy wedding experiences. Here are some of them.
The first time I was ever a bridesmaid, we had a religious ceremony, a break in the middle, and a reception in the evening. I spent hours setting up reception decorations in the hot sun with all the other hardworking bridesmaids. One of the groomsmen showed up to the reception with a broken arm. I asked him about this because he’d definitely had two functional arms that morning. While we were working hard, he ran off and played basketball and injured his arm in the process.
My mom was late to her own wedding because her sisters, who were supposed to do her hair, were busy watching Oprah. She eventually gave up waiting and curled it herself. Meanwhile my poor dad is stressed out of his mind because he thinks he’s getting left at the altar. He’d been previously married and had written in his diary the night before, “I’m getting married again tomorrow. I hope it works this time.” When she finally showed up, she gave her car keys to my uncle, who drove off with them. They were stuck waiting on a park bench for him to get home (in the days before cell phones) so they could call him and tell him to come back.
My friend “Tina” married her older sister’s ex-boyfriend. The sister and the groom had dated in high school, and by that point, the older sister had long since moved on with life and got married. There were no hard feelings on either side. Tina’s a little wild and thought it would be fun to jump into a pull fully clothed at her wedding. She then changed out of her wet wedding dress, so she’s not distinguishable by her outfit. As everyone was cleaning up after the reception, the groom wandered into the room and saw his wife bending over to pick up a box of decorations. He grabbed her on the butt. She promptly straightened up , turned around, and he found it was not his wife at all but the older sister. All the blood drained from his face and he thought he was in so much trouble. The sister thought it was hilarious, had a good laugh about it with her own husband and Tina, and now Tina’s husband has to quietly live with the fact that the legend will go down in family history.
This isn’t technically a wedding story, but my boyfriend and I are planning on getting married next year. We’ve discussed marriage very seriously but are not engaged yet. Our reason for waiting so long is that he’s finishing up grad school and I live an hour and a half away from his college town, so it would be logistically tricky for either one of us to relocate before he graduates. Two weeks ago my friend and I thought it would be fun to go to a bridal expo to look at wedding dress styles and vendor options as early-stage wedding planning research. I entered a bunch of random sweepstakes at the expo thinking there was no way I would win. A few days later, I found out I’d won a discounted men’s wedding ring, 50% off wedding invitations, and free airfare and a hotel to a beachside honeymoon destination. I then had to explain to my boyfriend how the freak I won all this crap we don’t need yet. Then I had to hem and haw my way through conversations with customer service people. “Um yes I’d love the free invitations but I don’t know my wedding date yet?” “Uhhh how long is that free airfare good for?” And yes, the rules of the free vacation do specifically state that I have to bring him. The travel agency won’t let me use it to go with a friend. (Yes, boyfriend and I factchecked the free honeymoon and so far it seems legit, I won’t go on it until I factcheck it further.)
Best of all: my high school history teacher constantly told stories about his personal life instead of teaching history. On the morning of his wedding, both families set up camp in a hotel room near the wedding venue so they’d have a place to put all their wedding stuff. Plot point: they’re on the eleventh floor of the hotel. Because there were wedding decorations strewn all around the hotel room, the only place he could think to hang his wife’s wedding dress was on the fire sprinkler. He managed to hang it at an angle where it wouldn’t activate the sprinkler, but then his brother went to take it down and it triggered it. Black coolant foam shot out and got over everything, including the dress. The fire suppression system also alerted the local fire department, so he had to hightail it out of the hotel before they made him stick around to explain himself. He ran down eleven flights of stairs with the dress to get it cleaned. At the bottom, the bride realized he’d left the veil upstairs so he had to run back up and get it. After running up and down eleven flights again, she realized the rings were missing and made him go back. He managed to successfully evade the fire department and they were married without a hitch.
Maybe don’t hang your dress on a fire sprinkler though.

25M Last month, I closed on my first property in Cypress, Texas, a 4-bedroom house with two bathrooms. I was a truck driver living over the road for two years. The job I found here does not pay as much as I thought, so now I'm thinking of going back over the road.
My monthly mortgage is $2k per month. I come very rarely back to Houston, so finding tenants for the rooms would be hard because who knows what they are doing while I'm out driving.
I was thinking of renting the whole property, but from what I understand, that is mortgage fraud. Also, I got a grant when I purchased the home called The HomeReady™ Mortgage (Fannie Mae). It was 5k; the lander matched the grant with another 5k.
What do you guys advise me on doing? Paying 2k per month for a year until I can rent it sucks. Getting tenants would be way too hard, not being home most of the time.
What would you guys do?
When I said I had to move cities, I meant I would go to Chicago, most truck drivers stay there over the weekend. It’s the easiest city to get to as a truck driver.