Poems for girlfriend

MemesForMyGirlfriend

2021.04.28 08:54 PaulFlynn_ MemesForMyGirlfriend

Memes for my girlfriend so I don't have to spam our chat.
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2008.03.15 19:41 Poetry - spoken word, literature code, less is more

A place for sharing published poetry. For sharing orignal content, please visit OCPoetry
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2010.02.27 05:23 Meades_Loves_Memes r/teenagers

teenagers is the biggest community forum run by teenagers for teenagers. Our subreddit is primarily for discussions and memes that an average teenager would enjoy to discuss about. We do not have any age-restriction in place but do keep in mind this is targeted for users between the ages of 13 to 19. Parents, teachers, and the like are welcomed to participate and ask any questions!
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2024.05.21 15:40 This_Rub4353 Isn't it crazy how people you consider one of the most important people in your life can turn into complete strangers?

After going through a breakup with my girlfriend a few months ago, I found myself passing through the city where she lives. It's important to note that she lives far, about 300 km away from where I reside. While there, I visited some friends I had met during our time together and ended up seeing her working at the bar where she always used to work. The experience left me with a realization about relationships, prompting me to reflect on their significance and authenticity.
There was a time when our love felt unbreakable, filled with both tears and laughter. But now, in her presence, our connection felt fake and insubstantial, a mere shadow of what it once was. It's a strange feeling, watching someone who once knew you so intimately from a distance, now a stranger you barely recognize.
Of course, we'll both move on with our lives and find new paths. But the image of her, working away in that dimly lit bar, will forever be etched in my mind. It's a reminder of how easily love can come and go, how quickly things can change, and how we must cherish those we love while we can.
Has anyone have something similar happen to them before?
Here is a little poem I wrote, basically immediately after I saw her again:
In a foreign land I roamed, Passing by familiar streets I called my own, Amidst my journey, an unexpected slight, My lost love, now a mere barkeep, out of sight.
Once our love was strong, pure, and true, But now, in her presence, I feel so blue, Our connection, once a steadfast bond, reduced to nothingness, all gone.
I am but a mere mortal, insignificant, In this world, where love is transient, The time we shared now a distant memory, our once shared life, now a mystery.
Despite the pain, I move on, But the image of her remains etched upon, A reminder of what once was, A love lost, a forgotten cause.
Perhaps this is just my post-breakup sorrow, But it has made me ponder for tomorrow, Are relationships mere facades we adorn, Or is true love ever born? Has making love overpowered the real love? Can I trust anyone more than my life, ever?
submitted by This_Rub4353 to BreakUps [link] [comments]

2024.05.21 14:58 FarragutCircle Reading The Big Book of Cyberpunk, Week 17

Welcome to Reading The Big Book of Cyberpunk!
Each week we (u/FarragutCircle and u/fanny_bertram) will be reading 5-ish stories from Jared Shurin’s The Big Book of Cyberpunk, which includes a curated selection of cyberpunk stories written from 1950 to 2022! We’ll include synopses of the stories along with links to any legally available online versions we can find. Feel free to read along with us or just stop by and hear our thoughts about some cyberpunk stories to decide if any of them sound interesting to you.
Every once in a while, we reach out to people who have more insight, due to being fans of the author or have some additional context for the story. (Or we just tricked them into it.) So please welcome u/RuinEleint who will be sharing their thoughts on "The Yuletide Cyberpunk Yarn, or Christmas_Eve-117.DIR" by Victor Pelevin!
“Deep Eddy” by Bruce Sterling (published 1993; also available in his collection Ascendancies: The Best of Bruce Sterling)
Deep Eddy is acting as a data courier to the Cultural Critic in Düsseldorf, right as the city goes through a Wende (a sort of anarchist “Purge”).
“The Yuletide Cyberpunk Yarn, or Christmas_Eve-117.DIR” by Victor Pelevin (1996, translated from Russian by Alex Shvartsman)
A corrupt mayor’s computer is infected by a virus that causes chaos in Russia.
“Wonderama” by Bef (1998, translated from Spanish by the author)
Lalo (or is it Eduardo?) wakes up every day in the most awesome life in 1974, but it’s revealed to be a lie and ends tragically.
“comp.basilisk FAQ” by David Langford (1999) (link to story)
A FAQ-style story that clearly describes a bizarre future where images on the web and TV are banned due to the risk of death.
“Spider's Nest” by Myra Çakan (2004, translated from German by Jim Young; also available in the anthology The Apex Book of World SF 3 edited by Lavie Tidhar)
Spider, uh, does something? Is looking for drugs, maybe? But something else happens instead?
That’s it for this week! Check back the same time next week where we’ll be reading and discussing "The Last American" by John Kessel, "Earth Hour" by Ken MacLeod, "Violation of the TrueNet Security Act" by Taiyo Fujii, "Twelve Minutes to Vinh Quang" by T. R. Napper, and "Operation Daniel" by Khalid Kaki.
Also posted on Bochord Online.
submitted by FarragutCircle to Fantasy [link] [comments]

2024.05.21 14:36 InfectedEllie Need help with my insecurities with a LDR 28M 25F

So about a month back my girlfriend wrote me a poem, it’s was brilliant and since it was about me it felt even more special. Last Tuesday she turned it into a song and sent it me, and said make sure nobody is around when you play it. I assumed since it was about me and because she said make sure “nobody is around when you play it” she only sent it me. Yesterday I found out she sent it to my best friend too. When I asked her about it she messaged my friend asking “did you tell X about the song I sent you” he replied “yes! I thought he knew” and her reply was “he knew but not that I told you” This made me overthink since I wasn’t sure why she’d keep it a secret.
Normally this wouldn’t make me go and ask a bunch of strangers on the internet for advice, but because the background of how we got together is a little complicated and it really played on my mind.
My best friend (who the song was sent too) also liked my girlfriend and took it quite hard when he knew we got together, but eventually got over it and during a trip to Australia we were talking about it and he was telling me how they had “dry humped and did other things with each other on a trip to queenstown” I am almost certain this never happened since we were in a hostel and there were 4 of us in the room, but he mentioned it more than once, And it keeps playing on my mind which I think was his goal. So when I see they’re quite close texting each other I get insecure.
I trust her 100% and I really do love her but I hate how close she is with my friend. And despite her knowing she upset me, she still hasn’t apologised.
How do you overcome insecurity?
submitted by InfectedEllie to LongDistance [link] [comments]

2024.05.20 18:45 Advanced-Reveal6056 Upstaged by Marlon Brando( enjoy reading )

Upstaged by Marlon Brando( enjoy reading )
Upstaged by Marlon Brando
I thought I had the talent to be an actor. A mercurial classmate gave me second thoughts.
By Alan ShayneMay 20, 2023 Marlon Brando photographed sitting on a chair and holding a book in 1946. Photograph by Cecil Beaton I was eighteen, living in New York, and trying desperately to get work as an actor. It was 1943. I had been drafted, and the plan was to do my time, then study with the help of the G.I. Bill. I’d spent a summer doing Shakespeare but had just been fired from a production where I played a gross, blustering football star. I was a polite boy from Brookline, Massachusetts, and I just couldn’t work myself into the character: smacking men on the back, smearing a chocolate bar on my camel-hair coat. I realized that I had to learn the technique of acting. Everything I’d done so far was instinctive.
The day came for my physical. I went through the routine like an automaton, distancing myself from the hundreds of young men who stood self-consciously in their underwear. One of the doctors took a long time examining my ears. “Perforated eardrums,” he said.
I was free. I got a scholarship at the New School for Social Research, which had a prestigious drama workshop. On my first day, the registrar gave me my schedule: Theory of the Theatre, Acting, March of the Drama, Movement, and Makeup. I signed papers all morning, and then she took me to my group, which was already in session. Ten students were seated at small tables in front of standing mirrors, applying cosmetics to their faces. They stopped and stared as I walked in.
“Alan is joining your class, and I hope you’ll make him feel at home,” the registrar said.
Several boys got up to shake my hand; the girls said hello. One extremely handsome boy, who had drawn a line from the center of his forehead down to his chin, and who had made up half his face in garish war paint, walked over to me. I put out my hand, but he glared and walked out the door. Everyone giggled, and the registrar said, “Don’t mind him. That’s just Marlon trying to get attention.”
One of the boys lent me some makeup, and I sat applying it, looking in the mirror. I wondered if I’d made a mistake. After all, I had experience in a touring company, in summer stock. I’d put on makeup dozens of times. No, I thought, I’ve got to study—that crazy boy with the war paint had just brought me down.
Stella Adler, the most important acting teacher in the country, was coming to lead a class. I was terribly excited. She had been with the Group Theatre, the pioneering New York drama collective, and had actually studied with Konstantin Stanislavski, the originator of Method acting. I had been reading his book “My Life in Art” as if it were the Bible, but I still couldn’t make sense of the Method and how to do it. I was sure Stella Adler would teach me.
She was a half hour late, but no one seemed surprised. Everyone had been talking, sprawled on folding chairs or perched on a raised platform that took up one side of the room. Suddenly, it was quiet. The students shifted their positions and looked toward the double doors, like animals sensing an approach.
There was a waft of expensive perfume, and Miss Adler appeared. Hands rushed to take her umbrella, her bag, her fur coat. “Darlings,” she said, kissing and hugging the students closest to her. They guided her into an armchair, and she reached above her head. “What do you think of my chapeau?” she asked. It was a frothy black cap from which feathers danced whenever she moved. A girl said unctuously, “It’s beautiful, Miss Adler.” She was ignored as Miss Adler shed a suit jacket that revealed a filmy satin blouse. She looked at me. “You must be the new boy,” she said. I felt her eyes peel back the layers of my clothes. “Yes, Miss Adler,” I said. She reached out her hand, and I stumbled over to take it. “I hope you’re very talented,” she said. I stood awkwardly as she looked me over. “Sit down, darling,” she said, and I staggered back to my seat.
For half an hour, she discussed her clothes with the class. “Do you really think this suit is more becoming than the one I wore last week?” Then she listened to everyone’s comments about whether she was better in green or in blue. Finally, she said, as if we had delayed her, “Let’s get to work. Marlon, you lazy boy, get in that chair.”
Marlon hadn’t turned up in any of my other classes, but I had seen him sitting in the hall, playing bongo drums, surrounded by a coterie of admirers. He made a point of not looking at me. One of the students told me that his last name was Brando. The rumor was that he was being kept by a rich, older man and that he had a girlfriend named Blossom Plum.
The class watched as Marlon slumped across the room and fell into a folding chair. He looked as though he had crossed the desert without water. “Now, Marlon, peel an apple,” Miss Adler said. Marlon pantomimed the knife slipping under the skin, then began to peel. He did it so convincingly that it seemed to be in one long piece that kissed the floor. “Now, Marlon, I’m going to say some words to you, and I want you to react accordingly,” Miss Adler said. “Cold . . . hot . . . hungry . . . tired . . . depressed.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. Marlon continued to peel the apple, but each time he heard a word he seemed to change. The metamorphosis was nearly imperceptible, but he actually became cold or hot or hungry. I thought, My God, I’ll never be able to do that. The class applauded. Marlon slumped back to his chair.
“Our time is up,” Miss Adler sighed. “Now listen. I believe that every actor should be able to do something in addition to acting—like singing or dancing or telling a story. So next time, I want you all to come in with a story, or a poem, or whatever, and perform it as if you were in a cabaret. Is that clear?” There were murmurs of agreement, and then a shuffle of chairs as actors rushed to help Miss Adler with her coat. I sat for a moment in my seat. I knew what I would do: my rendition of “The Devil and Daniel Webster,” the short story by Stephen Vincent Benét, for which I’d won a speaking prize my senior year in high school. I’d show them Marlon wasn’t the only talented one.
The next class with Miss Adler had the palpable charge of opening night. No one would tell anyone what they were going to do. It was all a surprise.
After a show of hands, Miss Adler chose a lanky, blond girl to go first. I had learned her name was Elaine Stritch and that her uncle was high up in the Catholic church, in Chicago. She was wearing a trainman’s overalls and her hair was pulled back. She sat on the floor and strummed her guitar, singing in a haunting, simple voice: “I wonder as I wander out under the sky, how Jesus the Saviour did come for to die.” The class didn’t wait to gauge Miss Adler’s response. Everyone applauded loudly.
I waved my hand in front of Miss Adler’s face. “The new boy seems very eager,” she said. “All right darling, you go next.”
I stepped up onto the platform and was relieved to see that Marlon had left the room. I felt as if I were performing in front of the Queen and her courtiers. It had been two years since I had won the speaking prize, but I remembered every word of the Benét story. I was nervous in the beginning, but I felt a new authority as I acted out several different parts, all with different accents and personalities. I told the story of the Devil’s battle with Daniel Webster to possess a man’s soul. I grew more and more impassioned. I felt transported to the New England farm where the story took place, and I became very moved when Webster finally won at the end. I had hardly finished when Miss Adler’s voice trumpeted, “Excellent!” and the class applauded. I went to my seat feeling a camaraderie with the others for the first time.
As soon as I sat down, Miss Adler gestured in my direction. “Now, let’s not be confused that what he did was acting,” she said. “He told a story and put on voices for the different characters. That’s all right for cabaret, which was the assignment, but we mustn’t mix it up with real acting.” Everyone agreed. I didn’t see why it was necessary to diminish my performance in that way.
There was a sudden flurry of activity. The curtains on the platform were drawn and the lights went out. I could make out one of the actors dropping the arm on a record. As the music began, the actor rushed over and pulled the curtains. Standing in the center of the stage, in a pool of light, was a gorgeous woman in a velvet evening dress and long white gloves. The class gasped—it was Marlon in a blond wig. As Judy Garland began to sing—“Zing! Went the strings of my heart”—Marlon began to lip-synch. I realized the record was on at twice the speed so that the sound was comic, as if Marlon had Betty Boop’s voice. The class went to pieces. The students screamed and applauded; several of them slid off their chairs and rocked with laughter on the floor. Through it all, Marlon played it straight. Miss Adler collapsed in her chair. “The Devil and Daniel Webster” had been completely forgotten.
The cabaret incident was the last time I saw Stella Adler. She won a role in a play called “Pretty Little Parlor,” and coaxed her brother Luther into taking over the class. He had also been in the Group Theatre and was a renowned actor, having appeared many times on Broadway. He was in his forties, stocky and short, though he wore lifts in his shoes. He was all business but very warm and helpful. I was finally going to learn the Method that was beginning to be the basis of all good acting.
On his first day, Mr. Adler gave us an exercise in improvisation: we were all to be chickens in a barnyard. We would hear on the radio that war was declared, and we had to react as chickens—to decide whether we were married, leaving our chicken families to go off to war, or whether we were single and awaiting the draft. I looked around. Students started clucking as they moved on their knees toward each other. Some of the girls grabbed boys and acted as if they were their husbands. I had always been uncomfortable with improvisation, so I decided that I was a loner who didn’t like the other chickens. I sat and sulked and managed to get through the ordeal.
Around that time, auditions began for the big student play of the year: Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night.” This was very exciting. I’d acted in “Much Ado About Nothing” in Boston, learning the rudiments of doing Shakespeare, and I’d got my scholarship by reciting one of his soliloquies. I went to the audition feeling confident, but discovered that all the boys were trying out for Duke Orsino, the part that I wanted. Everyone had to read for the director, Erwin Piscator, who was also the head of the workshop. He was a slight man, around fifty, beautifully dressed and with meticulously combed silver hair. He had been famous in Germany for doing epic theatre, a movement that stressed the political content of drama. He had escaped the Nazis and now sat hunched at the front of the auditorium.
I was startled to see Marlon, who hadn’t been around much. I’d heard that he’d been raving about “Good Night, Sweet Prince,” a biography of John Barrymore, the renowned Shakespearean actor, that had just been published. He was laughing at rumors that Barrymore, a known alcoholic, had peed on the floor of his dressing room when people came to praise a performance. I thought it was sad that a great actor resorted to such low tricks for attention, but I wasn’t surprised that Marlon was taken in by them. As usual, he looked right through me as we waited in the wings. I couldn’t understand why I annoyed him, but I put it out of my head. I could hear the boys who went before me, and none of them seemed exciting. Marlon was the worst. He mumbled his way through, making no sense of the words or the iambic pentameter. When my turn arrived, I forgot about the others, succumbing to the thrill of being onstage, the pleasure of reading such beautiful lines. Piscator thanked each of us. A few days later, a cast list was posted. I was Duke Orsino.
On the first day of rehearsal, we were all a little nervous. Piscator had directed the greats of Europe, and we were just kids trying to find our way. He settled in the front row and looked up. “Alright, begin,” he said. I started to speak the opening lines, and Piscator jumped out of his seat. “No, no, no,” he shouted. “You Americans are so afraid of the poetry.” He came onstage and walked over to me. “You have one of the most beautiful speeches in Shakespeare,” he said. “It must be like a rhapsody. Your voice should sound like a cello. Now begin again.”
After weeks of rehearsal, we were ready. There were two opening shows: one in the afternoon, for the school, friends, and agents, and an official première in the evening. Around noon, I began putting on makeup backstage. My costume was stunning: a red doublet with a diamond pattern, red tights, a navy-blue blouse with puffed sleeves, and a silver cape. I was just finishing combing my hair when Piscator walked into the dressing room. “Good afternoon, Mr. Piscator,” everyone said. “Good afternoon,” he replied. “I just came to say merde.” The French word for “shit’” was traditional in the theatre for wishing someone luck. It made us feel very professional.
Piscator walked over and stood beside my chair. “There’s been a bit of a problem,” he said, “but I think we’ve solved it very well.” I asked him what it was. “You see,” he said, “Stuart’s mother is very ill, so he had to go to Washington last night, and he can’t get back in time for the performance. He’ll be here tonight, but we had to get someone to take his part this afternoon. Of course, it’s only eight lines, so it’s not that difficult.” I blanched. Stuart’s part was the priest—the hardest moment in the play for me. It was the scene when the Duke finds out that the woman he loves has apparently just married his manservant, who seems to be in love with the Duke. All hell breaks loose, and the priest is summoned to confirm the ceremony.
“Who’s going to play it?” I asked. The director beamed. “Marlon has been good enough to help us out,” he said. “It’s very nice of him.”
Of all the actors, I thought. “Can we rehearse before the curtain?”
“There’s no time, unfortunately,” he said. “He’s in the costume department now, but he knows his spot onstage. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
I went onstage, sat on my throne, and listened to the first swells of music. When the curtain rose, I filled my voice with an exhausted yearning. “If music be the food of love, play on . . . .” I nailed the opening scene, striking just the right balance between honest emotion and the beauty of the poetry. As I made my exit—“Away before me to sweet beds of flowers: love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers”—there was a tremendous sound of applause.
The rest of the play went splendidly. Near the end, when I discovered that Olivia, my love interest, had married Cesario, my servant, the priest was sent for. I was deep in character, acting out the conflict between my desire to kill Cesario and my suspicion that he was in love with me, when I heard the audience start to laugh. I turned to see the priest. There was Marlon in a pair of tights, into which he had stuffed a small drum that made him look pregnant. He beat out a rhythm as he mumbled lines that no one could hear. The audience went wild. They laughed. They cheered. They egged him on until he performed a frenzied drum solo. The other actors onstage laughed, too, but I was livid. It was as if the play were totally forgotten. When Marlon finally finished, he left the stage to an ovation, and I had to wait until everyone quieted down. As I spoke, the audience started to laugh again.
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Somehow, we finished the play. I walked to the dressing room in a fury. I thought of my past year in New York: never having enough food; losing a tooth because I couldn’t afford a dentist; being self-conscious about my smile; never being warm enough in my thin coat; and waiting on tables for people who seldom even gave me a tip. All to be in the theatre that I loved. But this wasn’t the theatre that I had read and dreamed about. When I entered the dressing room, Marlon was sprawled on a chair with cold cream all over his face.
“How dare you,” I said. “How dare you ruin this play!”
Marlon said nothing. “Aren’t you even going to say you’re sorry?” I asked. Marlon looked away. My frustration was building. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you off Broadway,” I said. I went to my dressing table and sank into my chair. Piscator whooshed in. “Wonderful, wonderful,” he said. I got up and walked over to him. “Are you going to say anything to Marlon?” I asked.
“My dear, it was wrong, but it was just high spirits,” the director said. “Tonight is the most important performance, and Stuart will be here for it.” I looked at him. He no longer seemed like a great international director. “If you don’t reprimand him for his unprofessional behavior,” I said, “I’m going to leave the school.” Piscator raised his hand in a deprecating gesture, then left the room.
I did the evening performance and never went back again. Marlon Brando was on Broadway within a few months. ♦
This is drawn from “The Star Dressing Room: Portrait of an Actor.”
submitted by Advanced-Reveal6056 to SnapshotHistory [link] [comments]

2024.05.20 14:04 Comfortable_Oil665 Poem for girlfriend

I'm new to this so looking for feedback. Any tips thoughts advice or ideas are greatly appreciated
The world ceases to spin
the stars above illuminate with passion
as i gaze into your alluring soul, through your sublime eyes,
My heart begins to feel the warmth I've longed to repossess since childhood.
As we kiss, I feel every bit of my soul entangling with yours.
As I pull your hips in to mine, my entire body pulses with electricity.
the compassion takes my mind places I've never seen.
I pull away for a second, to lustfully glare into your eyes oncemore.
As you look up at me, Every star sparkles in the reflection of my eyes
Aligning perfectly to spell
"I love you".
https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/s/WkvKhMOACC
https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/s/WkvKhMOACC
submitted by Comfortable_Oil665 to poetry_critics [link] [comments]

2024.05.20 13:10 cultured_gigachad A poem to my beloved

Dear H####,
Melancholic have I been these days
The thought in my mind which always lays
Of what we could have been, had you stayed
Ti’s but reality and is hard to face

In twilight’s hue where memories blaze
Your luminous presence, and your gentle grace
Your sweet mellifluous tone resonates in my ears
You don’t know how much I’ve loved you, my former dear

It has been seven days since you found somebody new
One more guy who brings out the better in you
The memories we made, I can’t seem to erase
All this tangle of emotions, how am I to face?

The way you called me “baby” is still so profound to me
But I wasn’t the only one, exclusively for yours to be
The way that we laughed, cried and loved one another
Will withhold a special place in my heart for now and forever

Couldn’t thou be gentler and have mercy on my heart?
Before commiting such treachery and tearing us apart
Due to this, I have chosen to depart
For I value loyalty, very extremely in my heart

I tried to get over it but the thoughts won’t stop flooding in
Taking all of my essence and consuming me from within
I thought I was your Romeo, and you my fair Juliet
All you were, an evil heart, cloaked within your pretty facet

But its okay my dearest, I have already forgiven thee
So go find love anew, and set yourself free
May all thy dreams and wishes be fulfilled
May joy be abundant and your soul forever thrilled

Thank you for everything so far, and goodbye forever
It is now but time to end our love chapter
Therefore, to end it all, I write you this poem
With love and well wishes, from your former beloved, Om

This is a poem I have written to my ex girlfriend who cheated on me recently. I broke up with her yesterday; I didn't know what to do, so I just poured everything here.
Feedback 1 - https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/s/O07naIPFOq
Feedback 2 - https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/s/x1HN0lVeTa

submitted by cultured_gigachad to OCPoetry [link] [comments]

2024.05.20 06:38 ep1grams Coming out, Karma, big cats, Robin...

Coming out, Karma, big cats, Robin...
Hello friends. I have only been a gaylor for a fortnight (not a joke, just a fact) so please forgive me if I have misunderstood something or am covering well-tread ground without realising it. I have done a lot of reading and find all this absolutely capitivating. If anything below is even partially right, it is because I stand on the shoulders of the amazing gaylors before me.
Look What You Made Me Do
Let's start with the Look What You Made Me Do music video (which makes so much more sense when viewed through the lens of you made me shelve the "too-queer" Karma album and take on this line of beards).
When Taylor starts singing "Look what you made me do" for the first time, she crashes a car with a big cat inside it. She is also wearing a coat with a big cat pattern.
There has been talk of this car crash being Karlie. Car = KARlie. Although that may be an extra layer, I believe that the predominant message here is that the car is Karma. Car = KARma.
She crashes the car (shelves Karma) and then poses artificially for the press (for success, to protect her reputation).
(I know the album was about her "bad reputation", but in light of shelving Karma, it was also about maintaining her reputation as a straight person.)
Later, Taylor walks away from the crashed car (which is now in flames) with the big cat on a leash (chain?). Big cats have been discussed as being symbolic of Taylor's wild, queer self, which I agree with. Karma the car (with the big cat in the backseat - Taylor's queerness) was crashed, but Taylor and the big cat walk away from the crash - she is still queer, even if that queerness is on a leash / contained.
Fortnight
Several years later, in Fortnight, Taylor sings about going to Florida and buying the car she wants (i.e. releasing Karma). It won't start up until you "touch me" (i.e. until ME! Out now! ... meaning Karma will be released once / at the same as she comes out). And until she "touch[es] you", which is widely regarded as her queemasculine self as represented in the Fortnight music video.
Karma/Mother
There has been mention of Taylor's new, queer, reincarnation-of-Karma album being called "Mother" instead. We would expect this incarnation of the album to be a bit different to the original, given that time has passed and that some of the original Karma tracks are likely to have come out on Reputation or other released albums. So... If she crashed the caKar during Reputation era, what is left? The ma. "Ma" as in another word for "Mother".
More Big Cats & Robin
Speaking of releasing... As well as releasing music/albums, etc, you know what else can be released? Big cats. Circus animals. Tigers in cages. I wouldn't be surprised if Karma the album had a bunch of big cat imagery. It also reminds me of this poem:
The tiger is OUT, huh?
Tortured Poets Department has a bunch of wild animal imagery, but I specifically want to talk about the song "Robin" and its tiger. It makes perfect sense to me that this is not a song about a small child being protected, but instead about a young Taylor being "protected" from the "cruel and the mean" via "the secret we all vowed to keep" "in sweetness." i.e. Eventually "the time will arrive" for Taylor to come out, but not yet - for her own good, and in the meantime we need "all this showmanship".
On the surface it sounds like a sweet song, but to me Taylor sounds vaguely sad and resentful. "Way to go tiger / Higher and higher" is Taylor being pushed more and more before she's allowed to come out. The goal posts keep moving. Taylor keeps working and working, keeps expecting to be able to come out, but it hasn't happened yet ("I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser"). The tiger in its cage does its best to perform to these rising "strings tied to levers", but it's still not set free.
As an aside, the vibe of this song really reminds me of "It's Nice to Have a Friend." At first glance they're sweet songs but with bitter undercurrents. It doesn't surprise me at all that "It's Nice to Have a Friend" was used on a horror music soundtrack. It reminds me of the stress of having a "friend" when you're queer, like being introduced to your girlfriend's grandmother as "so-and-so's friend".
Meet Me at Midnight
I was listening to Anti-Hero the other day and something went "ping!" in my brain when hearing "Midnights become my afternoons." As well as the literal meaning of someone staying up late, this sounds to me as if this references Taylor's 'meet me at midnight, that's when my authentic self will come out' being delayed. Like the clock was almost to midnight and then someone took it off the wall, spun it 180 degrees, and then put it back on the wall like that. Like I was about to come out but now suddenly it's 6pm again, I have to wait and wait.
This also makes me think of Taylor's clear Cinderella reference in Bejewelled. You know what happens to Cinderella at midnight? She turns back from princess-like (Taylor Swift TM) into a more 'ordinary' human being (authentic self). But in Taylor's version (small v) at midnight she also ghosts the prince (stops bearding) and keeps the castle (keeps her fame/money/success/legacy).
I can't wait until the 12th/midnight album comes out / gets released / gets its teeth back!
submitted by ep1grams to GaylorSwift [link] [comments]

2024.05.20 05:24 GayAssBeagle Found out my Ex did in fact cheat on me and my gut feeling was right all this time

So 9 months or so I broke up with my Now ex of 4 1/2 years. It was my first relationship ever as well for her in terms of a serious long term so I had no idea what I was doing(First lesbian relationship btw ), I made sure to make time for her always, always remembered her birthday and special occasions (had them saved in my calendar even the tiny ones), made sure to say how much I loved her always.
But she did forget my birthday sometimes or don’t do as much as I did for anniversaries or such. I was cool with it, I didn’t expect it. For me I had always dreamed of a relationship so I was always going to be the one doing the spoiling and far out there gifts and expressions of love. Heck I used to make a poem every Friday for her and would hide little I love yous within it everytime.
I thought I had everything until one day I realized something. At the start we had a steady flow of messages back and forth but eventually they became less and less, I understand as she was autistic and had a pretty stressful crappy job so I gave her space and encouragement. And also I learned that relationships have moments where the honeymoon phase dies out so I thought that was what it was. But no, a few days would be a week sometimes and a week would be two. I again held my tongue because I have ADHD and she had autism and a hard job like I did. I wanted to be respectful to her.
When she did text back, I’d scramble to get out what I could so she’d see it before she dipped for another week or a few days at a time. Eventually she didn’t respond for a strong weeks. I again just stayed respectful and tried my hardest to understand. I even started to think I was the issue, I did have a bad habit of texting a lot to folks growing up.
One day I got really excited over one of my favorite Tv shows coming to an end as I had been a fan since I was a kid and I sent a very lengthy text. I didn’t mean to, that’s just how I am and I get excited.well she didn’t reply back for a minute and when she did she just had a two word reply. It didn’t bum me out as obviously she couldn’t care about it as much as I could but it stung a bit
Now for the moment I dreaded. The breakup, oh god the breakup. I sincerely believe that at the time she had finally started to become more available and was more responsive to my texts. I hate reading her response to the BU text. We went out separate ways, I tried to ask her back a few months later, she was with someone else and I paid no mind to it.
Until I guess in a moment of weakness she had, she admit that she had been cheating on me. She said something about her finding her true self while she was hopping job to job and how she had changed. I was just so shocked in the moment that I accepted it like an idiot. I had a gut feeling but I ignored it because I didn’t want to seem like the crazy girlfriend.
In the end I was right and you wanna know the messed up thing? I’d still take her back. At this point, I don’t care . I tried to move on and it’s be awful, damn near put me in jail/prison levels of bad and I didn’t even cause it. At this point, I either want her or no one else.
But I’ll stay in my delusions and keep thinking we are together and it’s just a long break. But it still hurts like hell to find that out .
submitted by GayAssBeagle to BreakUps [link] [comments]

2024.05.19 20:44 Federal_Priority5410 I want to leave him

What’s cheating to you? 30F with 29M
We’ve been together for three years and I thought it was going great until I found he had been messaging an old girlfriend a few days ago he doesn’t seem to think it’s cheating! They haven’t been together for around 8 years and he says they weren’t fully together but I found love poems to her on his phone a year into our relationship. Just for context this guy doesn’t delete anything off his phone and we’ve been very open he can go on my phone and vice versa. I went on there a few days back and my gut instinct just told me to check his instagram and I seen there was a profile in requests and he hadn’t long sent a message to this girl.. tbh i didn’t think much of it and I didn’t click to see the message exchange as I thought I was in a honest relationship and I share everything with him and he would do the same. Fast forward to today he gave me his phone and I thought let me go back and check as curiosity got the better of me and he hasn’t mentioned anything of this girl… the whole chat was gone! So I simply questioned who he was speaking 2? was there anything I should know and he said nothing so then I confronted him on deleting chats he acted clueless asked what I knew I then told him he knows what I’m talking about so tell me the information he said it was a old friend and it was a quick catch up nothing more.. he’s down played the whole situation after a few hours I looked on her profile and finally realised who she actually was! And I’ve confronted him as he has lied and said it was a friend but Ive never wrote a love poems for any of my friends and I don’t want to get my friends in bed! As I don’t know what was said and I will never know now as I didn’t read the exchange I requested him to messaged her asking for the chat exchange to prove that he’s telling the truth as I expressed he’s broken my trust and I feel he has cheated! ( might be pregnancy hormones) he doesn’t think what he has done is a form of cheating and he thinks Reddit users well everyone would agree with him! He’s spun this back onto myself says I’m a nasty person etc I feel this is very toxic and I need him out of my space so any advice would be greatly appreciated. Is that a form of cheating? Or am I overreacting about the situation? How can I show him what he’s done is wrong?
submitted by Federal_Priority5410 to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]

2024.05.19 20:11 Stephan2005 Goodbye, my twin flame

Dear D...
Before I met you, I always felt like there was something missing in my heart, ever since I was really young; there was something that no matter how much I tried to replace I could never succeed. The thoughts of this hole in my heart being existent for the rest of my life felt soothing eventually but also painful multiple times. I always felt like an outcast no matter how much I tried to fit in, no matter how close I got to my friends. When you came, all those thoughts, all those feelings got away...
When I first met you, my whole world turned upside down. The shock that flowed through felt electric, like I touched a generator that collects energy. I could feel your gaze penetrate mine and vice versa. Then we looked away and shortly aftet we persuaded each other. I was more vocal and direct, you were more quiet and stood close to me all the time. I was sensitive and tense, you were more detached and chill. The moments I talked to you felt like paradise, it felt like I was talking to a long lost friend, to a brother from an another lifetime. In our dreams the roles would be reversed all the time: I would become the quiet and cold one and you would be the sunshine boy filled with happiness and joy. And of course you were the hugger. The nerve.
I wanted to be in your presence all the time, but I was scared of the intensity as well. I could tell you were also scared of it, but everytime I was chasing, you were running. Everytime I was running you were chasing. We were never in the middle. We had different methods to cope with the connection, because we were never fully direct with each other. I would have panic attacks and cry on the corridors when no one was around and later listen to music that reminded me of you, wrote poems about you and started to draw you out of the back of my mind. It felt uncanny how much you looked just like in the drawings. You would deal with it by drinking and overthinking and later outright confess to me overnight, the last night we were together. Then we separated. I needed time to reflect, something I did for the sake of both of us. You felt hurt and I felt hurt, but we needed space. I needed space. I felt like I was too much for you, and you did not deserve me.
That is when I started to grow. To change, to try and stand up and live my life the way I used to. I thought I would go back to my heart having that hole again, and dealing with it like old times, again. But the hole was no longer there. Because you filled that place in my heart. You and only you. And the pain became more powerful. I hurt even more because the separation made me wish I was in your presence more, to just hold you and never let you go. To tell you that I love you back, but I knew you would not believe me. You would think I would only say it back out of pity, not honesty. Because you have your own demons in your head, your own voices that make you overthink. Those voices are louder then my own voice.
Then I learned about the connection. At first I left it at chance. I had moments when I was going back to you, and moments when I was leaving you. Eventually you came back, and hugged me and took a photo with me and your best friend. You asked me if things will be the same between us. I had no response. I wanted to go back to it, but I knew it would be wrong. You wanted me back but I knew you did not evolve properly. You missed me, the same I missed you if not more but as the more awakened one I had to push you away. I told you eventually that I love you back the same way you told me: through text. You denied it and thought that I was just messing with you. You stopped talking to me. I know I hurt you, but I wanted to let you know as well. I hurt you because I love you.
Months went by and I learned to not let my anger take the best of me. To not let our past define our future. I learned to love myself, use the energy you gave me, both good and bad and embrace it. You were the reflection of my shadow self, who wants to tell people sometimes to stopp bugging me and that wants to be alone sometimes and I was your shadow self, the part that you keep locked because you got hurt: the kind, loyal and naive side of you that I showcase on the outside. I kept running into you; twin flame numbers kept pestering me. Dreams kept influencing me. But I had to stay away. I could see in your eyes that you were expecting me to make a move sometimes, smile at me warmly and just stare. But you were also mirroring me; if I was away, you were also away. Then I came back to you and you felt like I was just talking to you out of pity. So you let your ego out on me again.
You cant fully grasp the connection and how this experience should transform you, not just make you feel better. That you should heal wounds, not use me as a distraction for your own pain. Our dreams were almost always manifested by you; they always appeared when I was thinking the least about you, and in them you always wanted to do something with me. You might had good intentions, but you were also taking away my energy. The energy that I would use to heal would be drained because you were taking part of it for yourself. Because you did not had your own energy to use. Because you dont want to use your own healing process and make your own energy. I learned to love myself and also to love my friends and the friendships I had with them and the blessing that comes with having such strong bonds. I learned what I want in a partner and how my life should be settled for here on out. But I know deep down that I wont love anyone as much as you. Its just not possible. They will have another place in my heart, another type of love, but no one could replace you and I know this is gonna be vice versa for you as well. From what I have seen you still did not hook up with anyone after I came in your life; for the record you ironically broke up with your girlfriend around the time I came in your life and were super curious whenever there was a girl I had a crush on.
And as much as I love you, I cant allow this. I have to block you out through every way possible. I cant force you to change for the better, but maybe if you dont have me or my energy to use, there could be a chance. We will also separate fully in a couple of weeks with me off to college and you in your last year of highschool. Maybe my full absence will help you grow, just like how I felt when I experienced the separation a year ago. Again, I hurt you because I love you. If you heal yourself you know you can find me. When you are healed just call me and I will answer. Until then you have to be put away from my mind and energy. I will be fine, I will live my life and enjoy my part of it. I will miss you every single day, but I will remind myself of how you are not healed and how you need this space for yourself. Even if this space will still make me wish to hold you in my arms, and hold you as tight as possible.
Goodbye D. Until we meet again, I hope you will have a great life ahead of you and I hope we will reunite eventually... when both of us are healed. If we dont then... I guess see you in the next lifetime.
I love you.
submitted by Stephan2005 to twinflames [link] [comments]

2024.05.19 14:09 --TheSkyLord-- My Experience with Missions

I had a strange relationship with deconstruction as my dad was trained at a university level to do apologetics. He was an LDS chaplain in the Army, and every night for scripture study, we got discourses on the nuances of our faith and justifications for every question we ever had. I didn’t swear until I was 18 years old, or drink caffinated anything until about that time as well, because it was never a matter of justification. It was what my family, my tribe, my people did, to go to church on Sunday, and to be worthy. I was senior patrol leader and assistant to the bishop if that clarifies who I was. I didn’t have “God will reveal it in due time” parents. I had “Here’s the answer, here’s contemporary discussion about it. Here’s some reading material if you want to learn more” parents, except for they were wicked smart, and had biased conclusions.
I was called to serve in the Mexico City East mission. Shortly before opening my mission call, I broke up with my girlfriend at the time. i left BYU-I and went home to prepare. I received my endowments after lying to my stake president about my worthiness to enter the house of the lord. I came clean, and he threatened to not let me go out for a year because I was unclean. The prick made me talk to a therapist to be cleared for the mission field. The therapist had a brain and let me go out. When I was giving my mission farewell speech, I wrote it to include the teachings of many religions in it. I had drawn inspiration from the 13th article of faith “We believe all things, hope all things-“ and wrote a poem about how Adam and Eve related to the Resurection and Atonement of christ. My dad tells me the stake president was shifting in his seat like he wanted to pull me down from the pulpit. Prick.
The CCM was a pleasure to attend because of my district. The guys in my district there held a secret thanksgiving feast after hours when we were supposed to be in bed with food we had smuggled out of the cafeteria. We had look outs so we wouldn’t be caught by the patrolling teachers. My district was placed under surveillance because of politics against our spanish teacher who we could tell actually cared about us, and we were transferred into a classroom with one sided mirrors, and microphones hanging from the ceiling. An apostle came to speak to the entire CCM, and I thought we would get a chance to meet with him directly, or that he would be even remotely accessible in some way. He was kept away from us, separate and removed even though we had the same mission. I played a lot of volley ball, and got into shape enough that I touched the rim of a basketball hoop for the first time while I was there.
My first companion was a native speaker, and liked to spend the mornings in the cyber (Internet Cafe). He would make sure I was on LDS.org while he looked at softcore porn on instagram. We would spend hours there, and I was disappointed that this was the mission.
We went to a previous investigators house, and while there, we saw preparations for an animal sacrifice. These guys were putting alcohol, cocaine, and blowing smoke onto a white chicken, and placed in into a cardboard box with a bunch of black chickens. They showed us a room full of weapons, with blood and feathers strewn all over the floor. We noped the fuck out, and went home.
I requested an emergency transfer after spending most days in the cyber, watching my companion deface JW’s property, and being an all around dick to me by telling me how to shower and how to sleep.
For his replacement, the person that would help me with his bastion of knowledge, they gave me a white guy who spoke as much Spanish as I did because he was only a transfer further into his mission than me. They made this poor kid senior companion to me before his first transfer was over. Why? Because the kid was a workaholic.
The first thing this elder and I did when we got to our apartment was to pick up and leave to go to the house of a member who had just died. We sang at the wake. I sang in a language I didn’t know, for people I didn’t know, with a companion I didn’t know. We sounded pretty damn good. The elder began setting appointments with the non-believing family members during the service. I just sat and watched the mindless kids chase the family dog.
This elder skipped lunch every day, and made me do the same. We knocked every door in our area twice that transfer. One time, he got very sick, and was delirious out in the sun with me while we were walking. I made us go home for lunch that day, and he made me promise to wake him up after thirty minutes so we could get back to the Lord’s work. Three hours later he woke up, chewed me out for letting him sleep that long, and then begrudgingly thanked me for making him rest.
One time, while walking, this Elder expressed to me that he also had some questions, but he was afraid to share the details because he knew my own testimony was fragile. I pressed him for details of his plight, and he revealed to me the darkest part of church history that he had learned while we were in the CCM, that Joseph Smith had drank alcohol while in Carthage Jail before he died. Thoughts of Fanny Alger, of Mountain Meadows Massacre, and of my own mother’s rather recently implemented looser interpretation of the word of wisdom all flashed through my head. This guy was supposed to be my teacher? All I could do was express how sorry I was for his confusion, and told him to have faith. Heaven knew I couldn’t help him.
One night with this companion, it was storming hard, and the streets were flooded. This guy refused to let us go home. We climbed along fences to avoid getting our already wet shoes soaked, and waded through a foot of water to get to the doors that were slammed in our faces. There was a loose wire on a door bell, and when I rang it, I was shocked by the completed circuit the water made. Rejection after rejection piled up. Finally, my “senior” companion said that this was the last row of houses. On the last house of the last row, there was a family that was all deaf. The father opened the door, and was suprised to see us and didn’t know who we were. I remembered the sign for Jesus from my grandparents who started and ran the ASL endowment ceremony in the Saint George temple. The family was thrilled we knew the sign. When I asked if we could come in, the family politely waved goodbye and closed the door on our faces.
Another time when it rained, something fell into my eye. It was one of those freak nature accidents, and small enough that I couldn’t figure out how to get it out without a mirror. The thing stayed wedged in the corner of my eye for hours before we got home and I could finally get the foreign object out. Looking at it on my finger, I could see it was a small green spider. Days later, still in pain, I pulled what I can only assume was accumulated webbing from the spider that I’d crushed against my eyeball off of my lower eye lid. The pain stopped after that.
I bought a $500 camera. It was stolen within a month.
This Elder and I had the good luck before transfers to baptize two children. They would have been baptized anyways, so I didn’t do any actual converting, but I taught a few lessons, got in the water and did the dunk. Bucket list item, check.
I didn’t have enough time for laundry on P-Day, so I’d wash my outfit and dry in on the radiator through the night. Transfers happen, and my new companion lied to our land lords about the electricity bill, paying it in full but not giving a reason as to why it was so high. I didn’t care anymore, I just needed something clean to wear, but these land lord had treated me and my previous companion well, better than the previous landlord who had stolen our cleaning supplies. I felt these people deserved honesty. My senior companion capitulated eventually, and he and I butted heads regularly after that on the morality of things. I think in hindsight he was a smarter and better man than I was.
The new land lords, the “Lagunez Family”, were wonderful. They included us in their activities, and I felt like I had some people in my corner. When I eventually came home from my mission, a daughter of the family had written me a goodbye letter. She is currently serving a mission. They made some great music, and I have “Infiltradors” on CD, the official name of the band the father of the family was a part of (he was the drummer).
I knew the whole area by heart by that point, so I navigated us to our appointments. Half of the landmarks I watched for to know our location were interesting buildings with unique colors. The other half of my landmarks were dead dogs whose decaying corpses had become second nature to see. I began marking how much time had passed by how deeply a certain dog on a certain dirt path’s chest was caved in.
There was an apartment complex in my area that I had been told not to proselytize in because “It’s dangerous.” Turns out, those people didn’t have any money, so the church didn’t want them. That complex was past the dog and to the east about ten blocks.
My companion and I knocked on a door, and visited a man who was missing his legs. His daughter was there, putting dirty water on the aching wounds. He had a single room for a house, and wheezed when he spoke. He couldn’t afford medication. He still went out and worked all day for his daughter, and gave her whatever money he made, trusting her to keep him alive somehow. The church expected this man to pay tithing. The church expected me to tell this man to pay tithing.
I got the chance to hike up a mountain. At the top, I played chess with a chess set I’d procured from one of the best rapid chess players I’ve ever met. He had been the ward mission leader. He was a good man, a good father, and I wish him the best.
I found another man who was deaf and spoke sign language. I sat with him, and convinced him to come to church all by myself while my companion talked with some tienda tender. I was so excited because this was my own personal project and it was going well. The man came to church, and I sat with him through sacrament meeting. In Sunday school (I can’t believe I did this), I accidentally drooled on the guy. I was just talking so he could read my lips, and I guess I forgot to swallow at some point because a dolup of spit landed on his arm. I apologized profusely, and he played it off, but I never saw that investigator again.
My companion and I knocked a door one day, and a man answered. He wore tattered clothes, and maggots were burrowing into and out of his feet. He muttered something about the stars, missing his wife, and he began to tear up. My eyes stung from the stench. The door closed. Somehow, I knew the man would be dead in a matter of weeks.
I had lost hope that I was doing anything worth while. I looked down on the Doc Martins that had stayed with me five months at this point. I was angry with myself for being so useless in the field, angry with the church for giving me leaders that didn’t listen to my needs or perspective, angry with my mom for drinking while I had to teach people that it was a sin, angry with my dad for giving me the skills and knowledge to justify anything, even pedophilia in the early days of the church, to the point where I could look someone in the eye, and knowing the kind of man Smith was, tell them he was a good man and a true prophet of God. Suddenly a man approached us. He said he recognized us as missionaries, and asked about our message. This never happened. People didn’t just come up to us unless they were crazy or dangerous. But this was a public place, and this guy was genuine. My companion talked to him, and gathered his story, but I was plotting something else. I was done with not caring about these people in a way that mattered. I was tired of walking in another man’s shoes, a man who wasn’t me, who believed different things than me. The chopped leg, the rotting dogs, the infested feet, it all swirled into a single thought in that moment.
What would Jesus do?
I walked over to the man, and in broken Spanish asked him to stand next to me. He did so, and I compared my shoe size to his foot. It was a perfect match. He protested, but I didn’t let him get a word in edge wise. I took off my shoes, put them on his dirty feet, and laced them up nice and tight. Those shoes had cost a ton, and had been meant to last the whole mission. All I had left at this point were my fancy dress shoes that gave my blisters back at the apartment. I didn’t care. I walked home in my socks that day, happy as a lark.
Covid-19 hit a month later. I was one of the few they brought home instead of quarantining. After having served only 6 months. I told God if he wanted me to stay home, he’d have to make them release me.
They released me. I think I was one of maybe a hundred missionaries that were released due to Covid. The church realized their mistake pretty soon after I was released. Once Covid infrastructure began to develop, they didn’t release any more. I guess I didn’t serve a full two years, but I did serve a full mission.
My brother served, and he nearly killed himself due to intense depression brought on by Covid quarantine and poor leadership (I’ve got a few mission president stories, but those are for another time).
I learned lying to someone’s face from my mission, and spent the rest of my time at BYU-I as “nuanced” until the last two years, over which the most epic hoe phase imaginable became my new mission. I spent those years terrified of getting a call from the honor code office.
I’m married now, with my degree irrevocably in my possession. I have friends and loved ones that are in the church and are working on their mission papers. I’m beginning to feel powerless again. I’m seeing the decay again, not on legs, feet, or dogs anymore, but in the souls of the people who the church raises to do their dirty volunteer work. I see them like the animal sacrifices I saw being prepared. I’m not sure what shoes I have left to give to those people that I know are going to be in pain.
My parents are out completely now. It was a long time coming, but they are out and so much happier. I’m working on building a new relationship with my family, one based off of the fact that we won’t be together forever, so we have to make the most of our time together now.
Happy Sunday guys, best of luck to you all. And most importantly, chupa la piña.
submitted by --TheSkyLord-- to exmormon [link] [comments]

2024.05.18 08:39 Calm-Accident9480 AITAH for Going off on my Best Friend for Getting Back with her Ex

I a (29F) have been friends with my what I thought was my best friend (25F) for about 2 and a half years. We met on hinge as dating prospects and after a little over a month of talking she called it off romantically and tried to pull away (little did I know she was still talking to her ex and hoping they’d get back together.) She had told me that her ex had cheated on her previously but never divulged any deeper into the past.
(For context: they met in high school and have been on and off for 9 years. He is extremely possessive and starts fights and is very controlling of her. She never told him about me because, “he would not like that you had feelings for me and would blow up.” So every time he came to visit her she would tell me and I would not be allowed to speak to her until he left. I had confronted her about that being stupid before and she just said, “I do this to everyone when he’s here I just turn my phone off and ignore everyone to spend time with him.” I found this incredibly weird and controlling of him. Before I met her on hinge she was living with him and a few of his friends in an apartment when she found out he was talking to some girl and he was being sexual with her over the phone. He let her read all the messages and she slapped him across the face. Months later he told her he and his friends were basically pushing her out of the apartment and made her leave. They broke up where she had to live with her mom before she found a cute new apartment she loved and put her soul into. )
Back to now.
I of course told her she deserved better because she truly is a wonderful person or so I thought. Fast forward to now and in between me getting over my feelings for her and now being in a very loving relationship with another person her and I remained very close friends. She ultimately got back with her ex after me and he broke up with her again right before Christmas claiming he loved her but was not in love with her. She was completely crushed. She would tell me basically everything going on her life including what has been going on her ex. He lives in AZ while she lives in CA. She started to date other people but most of them never stuck. She ended up meeting a really amazing guy. Let’s call him Rob. Rob and my best friend hit it off on shared interests and soon became boyfriend and girlfriend. I told her that she should rush too into things because she was still recovering from her ex and it seemed like things with this guy were progressing super fast. (They were already talking about moving in together, marriage and children) They were only together less than a month. But she has this pattern where she talks to men and once one bores her she moves on to the next. This was the first that actually stuck as a boyfriend. Things seemed good with them for a bit and he even flew them both to Vegas. He spoiled her with dinners and drinks at 5 celebrity restaurants and even stayed in a fancy hotel. Upon their return she mentioned to me about how happy she was and how good of a guy Rob was. I agreed and said this was a super healthy relationship and I was happy for us both being with people we deserved. A day later she told me her ex had found her second account on instagram where she posted poems about her life as a coping mechanism. She had before blocked him on everything when she found out he was clubbing and picking up strange women. She had ripped him a new one and told him she was really disappointed in him before blocking him on all social media and phone. I told her to block him on that account as well and move on. She was with a really great guy that was treating her very well and was healthy for her. Her ex had caused her PTSD from the serve mental abusing he put her through. Claiming he was the reason for her success in life. He also hinted as resenting her a bit for stunting his growth in life because he put all his love and support into her.
Apparently they kept talking behind everyone’s back because she had called me at work balling her eyes out that she told her ex about Rob and he was losing his shit. He was begging to know who it was and was blaming her for not waiting for him to get his life together. She said it was confusing her and causing issues with Rob because she liked Rob but she felt like she would always love her ex too. After I calmed her down she texted me that night that she may need to take a break with Rob in order to resolve this issue with her ex. I told her it was a good idea because it wasn’t fair to Rob she was talking to her ex and her feelings were becoming clouded. She told me that the weekend of mother’s days she already made plans with her family and Rob and she couldn’t bail because she didn’t want her family to know something was up with her and Rob. (Her family also HATES her ex for everything he put her through.) I thought I was a terrible idea and she should just make an excuse that Rob couldn’t attend. But she told me no because her mom wanted to get to know Rob better so he would be spending the night with her at her mom’s. I told her ok but he needed to go home to his mom on Mother’s Day and she needed to be with her own. She needed a break and a day to just let her hair down with her mom. On Mother’s Day she told me her and Rob woke up and she broke up with him. She sobbed for an hour because he was a really great guy. After that she told me she was going to reach out to her ex to resolve the issue. I thought this was also terrible but bit my tongue and supported her because she needed someone. Later that day she told me that her ex was on the way and driving to her place from Az. I told her “DONT TELL HIM YOU ARE SINGLE.” It was already too late he knew everything. I also told her don’t let him stay at your house. Last time he broke up with her she had booked a non refundable hotel room for $300 as she wasn’t allowed to stay with him because his mom HATES HER. So she lost $300. I told her make him go waste $300. Alas she didn’t listen to me. He arrived they got back together immediately and he slept in her bed that night. When I found out the next day I was LIVID. To me it felt like she went back to her abuser. He said just the right things to draw her back in. When I confronted her she feed me typical lines of: He’s changed It’s different this time I love him He was always trying to come back to me I wish you could see him like I do.
She brushed all this off as I tried to break her rose colored glasses and told me to stop being a jerk and rude. They were both attending therapy in the next 20 minutes. I couldn’t help but think the only reason he is on his best behavior is because he knew she was with another person and was finally trying to be happy. I chose my words carefully no cursing, no name calling just told her I was disappointed. I told her how hard this was for me as her best friend to see her enter this abusive relationship again. I told her this was wrong. I told her I was morally not ok with her having one man in her bed in that she pretend with and broke up with and then her ex in her bed that night. At this point I was DONE. She told me they will be moving to AZ together and renting a new house once her last day of teaching was done at the end of May.
My heart broke for that apartment she loved so much and finally made it the way she loved as an individual. I told her my heart broke for her family. For her nieces and nephew that love her so much. I told her dear god I hope this guy is the right answer to all her life’s issues and hope that he is worth it. I took old screen shots of old conversations where she told me how much she was glad she moved on from him and that she felt like she wasted her time with him and ultimately hurt herself. My last ditch effort to try and get her to see the light. She never responded. I blocked her on all social media and silenced her motivations on my phone. I still leave them open just in case things blow up Again and if she may need me.
AITAH?
submitted by Calm-Accident9480 to AITAH [link] [comments]

2024.05.16 15:42 mouthofxenu Primarch Names and Etymologies; Part 1 (I-II)

I am blown away by how much this sub and interest in a female-centric version of Warhammer 40k has become in the last week or so. You’re all amazing!
A few months ago, I had some ideas for a noblebright version of 40k where the primarchs and Emperor were female. The inspiration was cnmbwjx’s incredible art, which I am pleased to see has inspired many of you as well. I considered creating feminine versions of the primarchs’ names and came up with a list. I figure this might be a good time to share it along with my thought process behind them.
Before we begin, this is in no way an attempt to derail anyone’s canon. I have seen several names on this sub that I think are better than what I came up with. I also think there is something to be said for using the original primarchs’ names if that is your preference. Girls don’t have to have “girl names” after all~
Feel free to use these or not. I just wanted to share because I think my thoughts on the origins of the original names and ways to play with them could help others to come up with their own takes on these characters.
This is going to be a very large info dump, so I’m going to divide this thread into multiple threads released daily (hopefully). Some of the names require lengthy discussions (brace yourselves for Konrad Curze) while others require relatively little. I will go through the list according to the numbered order of the primarchs. I think about two primarchs per day will work.
Part 2 (III-IV): https://www.reddit.com/PrimarchGFs/comments/1cttrb4/primarch_names_and_etymologies_part_2_iiiiv/
Part 3 (V-VI): https://www.reddit.com/PrimarchGFs/comments/1culiut/primarch_names_and_etymologies_part_3_vvi/
Part 4 (VII-VIII): https://www.reddit.com/PrimarchGFs/comments/1cvdtpq/primarch_names_and_etymologies_part_4_viiviii/
Part 5 (IX-XII): https://www.reddit.com/PrimarchGFs/comments/1cwuget/primarch_names_and_etymologies_part_5_ixxii/
My goal was to come up with satisfying names that stay true to the original names and their meanings / inspirations as possible. Where that was not possible or seemed to produce an unsatisfactory result, I afforded myself more creative liberties to try and capture the themes of the character and the sound of the original name.
I preserved alliteration with the all but one of the original names. I left surnames unchanged.
The majority of my posts will be an analysis of the original primarch names and an explanation of my reasoning for my feminine twist on them. It is my hope these explanations will assist others in their creative processes.
I have also included my suggested pronunciations for the names I think have unclear pronunciations. I did not use IPA phonetic notation because I do not think it is accessible for a casual reader since it requires using a reference list for the symbols. I instead use approximations of English syllables. Please let me know if any are unclear.
Several of these explanations may be straightforward to English-speakers and those familiar with 40k lore, but I think a detailed explanation is more inclusive. I have a feeling this sub will introduce many people to 40k that wouldn’t otherwise get into the official setting, so I want to help make your lore journeys easier.
Finally, I relied on Wiktionary and Wikipedia in researching the etymologies here. I am aware these are not ideals sources, but they’re the best I can do because of my work life. I would appreciate any corrections and supporting evidence. I certainly discovered some issues in my initial research going back through this list.
I: Leona Es’Jonson (Lion El’Jonson):
Edit: Originally I had "Lioness El'Jonson" here. My explanation for the change is detailed below.
A lioness is a female lion, so I felt compelled to stick to that. However, Lion El’Jonson is one of the cleverer primarch names.
It’s a reference to Lionel Johnson, a nineteenth-century English poet who was both a devout Catholic and a gay man. Lionel was at war with his own identity, which led him to write the poem “The Dark Angel.” The poem is an expression of forbidden desire and the torment of keeping secrets while trying to stay loyal to a higher power that you believe will condemn you if it found out who you really are. Sounds just like the Dark Angels space marine chapter with their secret shame over something that wasn’t their fault.
While Lioness loses this literary reference, I do feel that valor and fierceness are much more a part of Lion’s character than the secretiveness of his chapter. Therefore, I stuck with referencing the animal, which is synonymous with themes of ferocity and bravery.
Edit: A few days after posting this, I remembered that "El'Jonson" is not a surname, but a title. It was given to Lion upon his discovery by the people of Caliban after he had been living in the woods alone. In the language of Caliban, it means "Son of the Forest." My girlfriend likes the name "Leona Es'Jonson," which forms a double pun by making the Spanish word for "lioness" sound more like the English word "lioness."
Perhaps "Es'Jonson" means "Daughter of the Forest" on Caliban~
II: REDACTED: SIGILLITE-LEVEL AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.
A mind without purpose will wander in dark places
Feel free to leave a comment on these submissions and this project generally. I look forward to sharing more with you next time~
submitted by mouthofxenu to PrimarchGFs [link] [comments]

2024.05.16 07:54 vijaykumargift What are some thoughtful gift ideas for a new girlfriend?

When it comes to choosing a thoughtful gift for a new girlfriend, OyeGifts has a delightful selection that will surely impress her. Here are some ideas:
1. Personalized Jewelry: Show her you care with a piece of personalized jewelry, such as a necklace, bracelet, or ring engraved with her name or initials. This thoughtful gesture adds a personal touch and demonstrates your attention to detail.
2. Customized Photo Gifts: Create cherished memories with customized photo gifts, like a photo album filled with pictures of special moments you've shared together, or a custom photo frame featuring a favorite photo of the two of you.
3. Spa Gift Set: Treat her to a luxurious spa experience at home with a pampering gift set that includes bath bombs, scented candles, body lotion, and other indulgent spa essentials. It's the perfect way to help her relax and unwind after a long day.
4. Handwritten Love Letter: Express your feelings with a heartfelt handwritten love letter or romantic poem. Take the time to pour your thoughts and emotions onto paper, and present it to her in a beautifully decorated envelope for an extra special touch.
5. Personalized Keepsake Box: Give her a place to store treasured mementos and keepsakes with a personalized keepsake box engraved with her name or a meaningful message. It's a thoughtful and practical gift she'll cherish for years to come.
6. Cooking Class Experience: Plan a fun and interactive cooking class experience for the two of you to enjoy together. Whether it's learning how to make her favorite cuisine or experimenting with new recipes, it's a memorable way to bond and create lasting memories.
7. Customized Gift Basket: Put together a customized gift basket filled with her favorite things, such as gourmet chocolates, scented candles, a cozy blanket, her favorite snacks, and a bottle of wine or champagne. It's a thoughtful gesture that shows you've been paying attention to her likes and dislikes.
With these thoughtful gift ideas from OyeGifts, you can show your new girlfriend just how much she means to you and make her feel truly special and appreciated.
submitted by vijaykumargift to Gifts [link] [comments]

2024.05.16 01:36 Lost-Beach3122 The Gothiest Goth Club

Basically a club for a bunch of goth clones that are too goth even for Joan. Just full on emo:
Members:
  1. Queen Victoria (voiced by Aubrey Plaza) - The clone of Queen Victoria that was a sweet girl but went emo after hey boyfriend Albert died.
  2. Emily Dickinson (voice by Haile Steinfeld) - The clone of Emily Dickinson who spends her time writing poems about mortality and death like her clonemother except people understand them when reading them for the first time.
  3. Rafael Trujillo (voiced by Rhenzy Feliz) - The clone of the Dominican president, Rafael became goth because of the misery of being the clone of a horrible Dominican president.
  4. OJ Simpson (voiced by Jermaine Fowler) - The clone of OJ Simpson, he went super goth because of the "disappearance" of his girlfriend Nicole.
submitted by Lost-Beach3122 to clonehigh [link] [comments]

2024.05.14 23:18 ficnhy Context importance

For the poems question on Lit 1, how important is the context, as when comparing The Manhunt to Valentine, I spoke saying it was Carol Ann Duffy's boyfriend rather then girlfriend. Would this loose many marks?.
submitted by ficnhy to GCSE [link] [comments]

2024.05.14 14:01 Zappingsbrew A post talking about 400 words

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submitted by Zappingsbrew to u/Zappingsbrew [link] [comments]

2024.05.13 22:55 Efficient-Barber-773 Does race, religion, etc. affect how we laugh beyond nuclear families?

I've read the rules of this sub and think this question fits.
Tldr: do non-white non-high control communities laugh loudly together? Alone? Not just, a polite laugh. A spirited, "raucous" laugh. Bothering people, crying yourself laughing. I wasn't allowed that growing up.
I've noticed especially watching comedians particularly famous in black communities, (background I was raised Mormon and white. I have educated myself but you're always ignorant.) such as Gary Owen, Katt williams that I've been exposed to recently, the laughter is lively. Spirited. I've also noticed while watching Maya Angelou read Still I Rise that laughter is very important to the reading of the poem, both as the reader and an audience participant. Even in a reading by Nikki Minaj at an A&E event that seems quite rich and California, she and the audience knew to laugh at the right time, though a completely different level of spiritedness.
My family is pretty stringent on laughter. My father has a booming laugh but my mother and sister are always shushing him and complaining about the volume. Meanwhile, they have all inherited my grandfather's sneeze, which involves near screaming when you let the sneeze out. I don't see why throwing my back out sneezing is any worse than laughing loudly.
Angelou - https://youtu.be/qviM_GnJbOM Minaj - https://youtu.be/WDfuJIBpXPM
Why do you laugh the way you do? (Regardless of background) Is there cultural context to laughter? Was there a significant impact by Angelou's poem on black communities? I found the concept of laughter and joy as resistance to be very powerful, and I wonder if it was employed or passed down.
White people feel like, polite at shows sometimes? I personally have difficulty regulating my volume and yeah I'd appreciate it if someone lmk I was talking WAY too loud but my girlfriend and family shushes me like. All the time, just for laughing. I see this less among some of the younger audiences I watch, Stavros Halkias and Nate Jackson's crowd work, people seem to let loose a little more. Did I just grow up in a cult so I'm weird lol?
submitted by Efficient-Barber-773 to NoStupidQuestions [link] [comments]

2024.05.13 17:11 moonyang13 Confusing INTJ behaviour after rejection

(It got too long, sorry, but I needed to explain) I (27F) met this INTJ online (28M) and we talked for about 3 months. Our messages were really deep and we exchanged and shared many values and it felt like we developed a deep connection and shared many views or future visions (marriage, kids etc).. we became closer until we almost every day alept on the phone (he is from another country). He said so many seeet things which even surprised me and I'm a bit shy in the beginning to say such things. But he made me thaw and open up more and more until we both became kinda lovey dovey like a couple. (But wanted to wait till we meet) I wanted to go to his country again anyway, but he gave me another reason to look forward to it a lot. It seemed so obvious that we will start a relationship after meeting that we even searched for Airbnbs together (like for 2 people).
So I went there, he was picking me up from the airport with flowers. But within the first days of my 1,5 month stay he told me he thinks he can't have a relationship now.
Now about all the more confusing things (only the things he did): - He said he started to worry earlier, so not just suddenly. But to me he kept the lovey dovey behaviour up till we met. He even kissed me the first weekend we stayed together. And he cried in my arms while talking about the not being together. - He still spent my whole stay together with me everyday, even though he had to come late after work. He cared so much for me, always asked me if I'm hungry and brought food etc. or cooked for me - Everyday before and after his work we hugged each other and wished us a good day - He told his mom and brother about me during my stay, how kind I am etc and told me his mom said she wants to meet me (why would he mention that though?) - Even though he mentioned one worry is money and time he invited me to eat out a lot and always insisted to pay except for the times I managed to give my card earlier. Even though I told him I don't care about money or his job. We all started somewhere. And I care about him as a person. - I asked for more reasons and he said there are so many worries, more about himself and that he can't tell me everything - He mentioned that I have so many "perfect girlfriend" attributes and something a man would want and wife material, but maybe some men could also think they are not good enough (maybe he also thought that?) - I told him that I usually don't like situations like this, like couple behavioubeing close like this without relationship. He agreed but he said that I am different/we are different. And when I mentioned that maybe because of that we shouldn't stay together in one place he looked really sad and in the end we stayed together till the end and I tried my best to maybe lose his fears/make him feel comfortable and enjoy time with him - He has nobody to talk to other than his family and me, because he prefers to be alone and has no friends. so it meant even more to me that he spent so much time and seemed to like me. - He said I'm a gift to him, the biggest one in his life - He told me how precious I am to him - He said he wants to always help me - He called me "cutie" in my language a lot - We practiced our languages together - Towards the end he opened up more and became more and more comfortable with me, he also mentioned then that he doesn't know if he is deserving of a relationship and when I told him that he seems quite confused he admitted that - He also became more "close" Like hugs or cuddling (not more), like initiated by him - Sometimes he said things quite randomly/surprisingly, like when we were outside he one time said that usually when he is alone he feels nothing, but with me he is happy. Later he also said that multiple times again, that with me every moment was happy and he thanked me for that - He said he also feels guilty, but guilt is not a big reason to spend time with me, if he wouldn't like spending time with me, he wouldn't - Till the end I was in his phone as "My home " with a emoji with the hearts around the head - He made me a very expensive gift in the last night before I left (even though he mentioned that his job isn't that great etc), he thought about it from before I went there - he held my hand when we went to the airport - He said I shouldn't worry too much and we will meet again and can still text, call and maybe videocall
All this effort and how he thinks about me, but being so unsure about his feelings confused me so much. I always wondered why would make someone such effort even after rejecting someone and spend so much time? So I believed in his words and I thought he is just confused and very unsure about himself and his life, from what I felt.
After I left the country he wrote things like he wants to go home together and how thankful he is and happy he was etc. We still texted afterwards but I also always kept the hope, even afterwards. He said I can't change his decision easily, but why are his actions so different from his decision? I asked him clearly if we really won't be ever able to be together, because I thought it's easier for me to accept it and move on after a clear statement. But even the response to that was unclear. Because he said something like "For your sake I think it's right to say that this is right. But you also could feel my heart"
I left him a birthday gift before I left, becaus his birthday was upcoming. And he sent me pictures after opening and also longer messages how it's touching and to thank me a lot. And also saying that I am luck to him and etc. It made me happy that the personalised gift seemed to mean a lot to him. But some days later I noticed he texted less and his responds took so long. (for the first time in months) So I asked him if he is OK? And that I thought he maybe wants to not text that much anymore or that there is a problem.. but it made him go into lecture mode, that I shouldn't assume things, because that's not the case etc. So I felt a bit sorry to express my feelings but I also told him that he also can always tell me when he needs space or something and I just try to understand him better. But he also told me he wished I wouldn't try to understand better. In my case I think an effort to understand each other better is needed though for human relationships. He later also apologised in the middle of the night, that he never wanted to hurt me but did now and that he just doesn't want me to hurt alone anymore. And I also thanked him for caring about me (since his lecturing way is also one of his ways of caring and it also helps me).
He also said if he wouldn't want to text with me or value me he wouldn't do this lecturing and just not respond. After that we exchanged a few longer positive/appreciative messages for 2 days and onto my last one he only put a heart reaction and didn't reply anymore. He liked my story when I wrote a poem in his language which was about him (nobody would know) and saying he shouldn't be too hard on himself. He still looks at my story and didn't change the stickers on his profile (which represented us) etc. I wondered if I should reach out, because it's on my mind everyday too much. Since almost 3 weeks now. But I also said and did everything I could during our time. And I also want to give him space to figure himself and his life out because he spent so much time on me before and he seems very confused about what he wants in life.. I still don't think he is someone who just says meaningful things easily..
I feel like it can't be the end like this.. Do you think he would come back by himself after some time?
submitted by moonyang13 to intj [link] [comments]

2024.05.12 09:01 kokivouivre Am I (M/30) asking too much from my gf (F/30)?

I M/30 dont know what to do with my gf F/30
I dont know if i'm asking for too much. I try to be as understanding as i can, but i dont know how much more i can give before i completely give up. We have been together for 2 years, i(M30) met her(F30) on bumble and we instantly fell for each other, at first we were extemely affectionate and im not talking only about sex i'm talking about compliments and hugs and meaningful conversations. She is studying and working and she is constantly stressed i understand that stress can kill romance, but the real problem is the lack of intimacy of any kind. People complain about not having sex one time a month, but i'm here being grateful if we see each other one time a month.
She says that she doesnt have time for more right now and i believe her, the real problem is that i try to find other ways of having time together and nothing i propose works. I told her that we could do exercice together online, she said that she doesnt like doing exercice online, ok fair enough. I saw her spend a lot of time playing mariokart online on mobile so told her if we could play videogames together, she doesnt have time for that. Ok so i found an app for couples, its like a journal where we answer cute questions about us and our relationship, she doesnt like that. I made her a physical journal where i put poems, questions, and photos, It was completely ignored and untouched. She downloaded an app for looking at telenovelas so i asked if we could see movies together online, nope she is busy. I asked if i could go to her house and work together, that doesnt work because i distract her, ok thats fair. We only talk on WhatsApp and the conversation is always the same "how are you? Good and you? What did you do today? Only work..." And the conversation dies. I told her that i would like a phone call even if its one time a week and she said that she doesnt have time, and i could go on with more examples, but she says that i'm not understanding that she doesnt have time and at the same time she says that i lack initiative.
In one fight i said that if she wanted she would make an effort, and she took It really badly she said that she is doing the best she could right now. And the thing is i believe her to an extent, she is working, studying, her father and mother lost their jobs and she is helping them, her grandma is sick. She is stressed constantly i help her as much as i can for example if i know she is not eating well i send her something to eat, her mother has the opportunity of opening a laundromat so i'm helping designing the logo and the signboards for the laundromat for free, i have helped with the chores at her house.
She is constantly telling me that i'm distancing myself emotionally, but there is no room for me to get emotionally conected to her. The only physical contact that we had lately is one sided hugs and pecks on the lips and only if i intitiate them. One time i hugged her for more than 5 seconds and she patted my back, she fucking patted my back, It really destroyed me. We didnt had sex for 9 months straight. I dont think sex is necessary In a relationship but its one of the best indicators if the relationship is working or not. i feel so touchstarved that i sleep on my bed hugging myself. I dont know what to do anymore...
Sorry for my english and the formating, its not my first language and i'm on mobile.
TLDR: my girlfriend is constantly stressed, and have little time for me and we are slowly distancing ourselves emotionally. I dont know if i'm asking too much from her.
submitted by kokivouivre to relationship_advice [link] [comments]

2024.05.11 19:15 TresExplores Undiagnosed and still not sure if I have it.

Hey there amigos! For starters, I will tell you some background. [KINDA LONG READ]
Do you know that activity during high school wherein each of the students will pass around a paper with name on it and the whole class will write what they thought about you? Guess what? I got the following:
I'm that quiet kid who may seem mysterious but in reality, there is nothing really special about me. Tambay ako sa library back then, I read anything to let breaks pass. Perfect tambayan ko apart from the library ay ang restroom, locker area and the top-most floor ng school namin. I hate crowded and noisy places. I hate the classrooms specially if walang teacher to level the noise. In fact, their right, I always freak out whenever napupuno na ako sa ingay. Like, sumisigaw na lang ako out of nowhere to shut them up. Kung di sila mapatahimik, hampas ng table and suntok sa upuan ang sagot. Umaabot sa point na nangunguwelyo ako pero I'm glad na wala akong nabangasan sa mga kaklase ko. Because of this, they considered me as the S&A ng section. Pero that is a total clownery, because they are just laughing at me whenever I'll reach the peak of my emotions. My teachers on the other hand also noticed my duality in nature, Minsan active, madalas tulala. Some of the lines I received from my teachers are the following:
"Binigay ko na nga lahat ng sagot pero bagsak ka pa rin." "You exceeded my expectation, I'll show your work to other sections." "Sa simula ka lang magaling, I expected more from you." "Dati nakikipagsabayan ka ah, what happened?" "Buti kinorrect mo yung solution sa equation, congrats you got the 3rd place merit." "Eyes on the board, wala ka matututunan if diyan ka sa bintana titingin."
I'm just an average person and I recognize that, I am not a natural genius. I have to work hard for the merits. I got an average grade which gave me the eligibility to enter university during SHS. New environment, new me. This time I owned my life and started joining orgs and clubs. Laging pinagaagawan sa mga groupings but I always choose to be with those na walang pumipili. I wake up at 3am and sleep at 11pm. My days became hectic. My years as SHS went so fast, I ended with just honorable mention and some medals I accumulated as I compete.
Personal Development. Same activity, different results. Kung before, I got an overall comment stating na I'm an Alien. This time, I got the following:
Fast forward after some heartbreaks, shifting course, the Pandemic, and some job hopping (every 4 months). Hindi pa rin ako nakakagraduate. May licenses na mga kasabayan ko and here am I trying to navigate myself out of College.
I know myself and this is me:
I tried to consult with a psych specialist. However, the specialist did not consider me as such. My DSM-5 results glared on three aspects. Disinhibition, impulsivity, and machiavellianism. But that is not the final diagnosis, just an initial one specially because it is free.
Just sharing this. I'm not really sure what am I looking for, maybe validation, dunno hehe.
Oh, and our baby bro show signs of ADHD as told by their teacher and my brother's girlfriend's relative who happens to be a psych grad.
submitted by TresExplores to ADHDPH [link] [comments]

2024.05.10 20:29 natarangubha My Boyfriend called me cha*ka in front of his friend group.

I'm Cis - Gay M-22. I moved to Bengaluru this January for studies (I'm originally from Mumbai). Im honestly enjoying my life in Bengaluru and the recently found freedom and the whole new adult identity. I found my BF ( Bi - 24 ) on Grindr. We are enrolled in the same college. We started off with sex but slowly developed bonding. Slowly the sex - nights turned into date nights aaur we started dating quickly .Like by mid January we were dating. He is warm, intellectual and very charming. We shared similar hobbies working out, trekking, reading. Overall a sweetheart.
As we are in the same college we mostly used to hangout together , and we have common friend circle of 12 people. So hua yeh ki I outed myself accidently on WhatsApp group while arguing with few 'friends' about the gay marriage verdict. I don't regret it , but it's not how I anticipated it. My 'friends' were cool with it atleast that's how they presented it to me.
My Bf is not out of closet. Since we hangout together most of times our friends used to catcall us that we were dating. And ekbaar hua kya we went to a cafe waha pe humare uni ke thode log saw us. They told everyone that we were on a date. My Bf to the world is a buff - Straight man. He hates when someone says we are dating. He Doesn't like gay men , that's what he says to them. But let me tell you when this guy is with me alone he is the sweetest person. He ties my shoe laces, writes poems for me (about me), buys me flowers.
So my Bf is really obessed with football. And his team (majority of them are from my friend circle) practices every Friday evening. So Aaj i decided to go and see him practice football after my workout. They do this ritual ki after the game the team and their girlfriends go out to eat yaa go to watch a movie aaisa kuch. My bf and another guy from his team usually don't accompany anyone. When I reached the ground I tried calling my BF par he didnot pick up. I went in and sat near the podium jaha pe mere friends were sitting. Now everyone started teasing ki tu aapne bf ko dekhne aaya hai and stuff. Tab idk why was he so angry he said to his friends ki iss 'chkke ko me kyu hi date kru me tumhe iss jaisa gndu lagta hu kya?' and all my 'friends' started giggling. I left the ground crying. Usske baad when I was going home he called me and told me ki ' you deserved the beating you used to get by your father ' (my father used to beat me with belt in my childhood because I was effiminate) along with rant. When I picked up his calls pehele I thought of apologizing to him kyuki I never thought me vaha aaunga toh he will be so triggered but after he told me this I hung up on the call. He is trying to call me even right now when I'm writing this post. He has sent me atleast 60 texts on wp. From what I see on the notification bar it him apologizing.
I'm not sure exactly what I should be doing?. I don't really have 'friends' to ask this too. So I'm asking you guys. Please help me get a lead on this situation.
submitted by natarangubha to LGBTindia [link] [comments]

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