Stuffy head chest pressure

I’ve had 3 encounters. In one I was just paralyzed and couldn’t open my eyes and a presence was over me sniffing in my ear. The next I felt like I was blind and crawled to the door of my room, pulled myself up and turned around now able to see and I saw myself in bed still asleep. I went over to myself and touched myself but it was me doing it, it was strange. The next i was paralyzed and felt a heavy pressure on my chest and couldn’t breath and tried screaming for my boyfriend who was asleep next to me but I couldn’t do anything but be conscious of my state and continue in my failed attempts to wake him up.

context: i have undiagnosed mental illnesses (suspected bpd, depression and anxiety but unable to get diagnosed due to a lack of resources) & childhood trauma. I am fully aware that this does not validate anything.
i’m still a teenager, 2 years younger than my (ex) boyfriend.
he broke up with me out of the blue. it was a really messy breakup — we would break no contact to touch, and i consented to it despite knowing it was mostly hormone-driven.
he had a lot of pressure to break up with me from all sides of his life, and he started disliking me more and more as a person.
he was my best friend before we dated, which makes this much harder.
now, after we broke up, i started acting out like never before. i refused to go somewhere with him, so he went with someone he explicitly knew i disliked instead. the way he threw his head back while laughing with him, if fuelled a rage in me. i simply couldn’t stand it anymore. i couldn’t wrap my head around why he wouldn’t come with me, and instead went with someone i already disliked.
i went to find him and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him forcefully away from the person that i disliked. i then screamed at him loudly, and my anger took control.
past this point, i couldn’t even recognise myself anymore. we were at an isolated corner, and i remember throwing my pen at him (unintentionally, i meant for it to hit the floor) and i’m not sure if i did anything else, but i genuinely hope i didn’t.
he told me it was assault and i never intended it to be. i am so filled with guilt.
he told me that we could be a couple for the last week, but he called it off and i can totally understand why.
note that the reason i was so ticked off was because of the pain that i felt from him suddenly leaving me without any sort of closure — he saved me from suicide, made me so much happier for the first time in my life, made me comfortable in the body that i struggled so hard to love. being with him felt so so so refreshing — and the fact that i had to no closure to a relationship he seemed to enjoy hurt me beyond words.
other examples of how this further exacerbated my mental illnesses: - in his words, i “mentally regressed to a nine year old”, creating a reality in my head where we were still together (i drew stick man figures of us together, posted on my account our old pictures, captioning “i love you baby” etc.) - couldn’t get out of bed, cried for days and still stuck in a reality where we’re still in love - panic attacks, anxiety attacks, mental breakdowns
i’m at a loss now, losing him made me such a terrible person and i’m still living for the hope that he’ll like me again even when i know it’s not going to happen
in the mean time, this was a wake up call. i am someone who is unable to keep their emotions under control. i need help and i am seeking help.

 The necropolis was gorgeous, for what it was. Its white outer walls hiding the darker Victorian Gothic interior. The tech that was hidden in the walls though was able to move bodies in their caskets from a designated place in the necropolis to the "viewing area" as the necropolians called it. This was where I waited for my, for lack of a better term, escort to take me to the mortuary. Since science has grown surprisingly fast our abilities for forensic sciences have also grown, and that's to whom I was headed. (S)He was an, unusual (wo)man to say the least. An expert in their field and about as learned as a doctor, if not multi-doctorate. If you ever asked them why they never pursued an actual doctorate, they would get angry and act all prissy while saying that going to school would've slowed them down and all they needed were the basic certificates for their work. The reality though, revealed to me during a drunken bout, they just never liked school and believed that it ultimately stunted a person's growth and ability to question the reality around them, that everything that you need to learn is already in books and in some form or another in digital content online. They were brilliant, if a little wacky. About five minutes after I had arrived and was sitting down in the viewing area, a little box rolled up to me making a couple of beeps to let me know to follow it and immediately started rolling towards the wall opposite of where it came from. When it looked like it was about to hit the wall, a hidden door opened up by the casket viewer, inside was a set of stairs leading down into the darkness. Stepping through the doorway I became acutely aware of sounds seemingly coming from all around me suddenly. It really is impressive, as though I just stepped from a tomb to a busy workshop, the sounds of gas escaping pistons, whirring, and clanking chains flooded my ears. I continued down the stairs following my helpful little box, which despite its size and shape would suggest was actually quite nimble on the stairs. It seemed to have wheels that would extend down to the next step as the edge rolled over it and once the back of the box was clear of the step it would drop back into its squat position, hiding its wheels as quickly as possible. It continued to do so the entire way. The box seemed to notice me watching it and made a kinda shrill whistle and its undercarriage light went from a comfortable yellow to a, is that... Peach? Is it blushing? My god I think it is! I let out a small chuckle and my little blushing box stopped dead in its tracks mid-step, its light suddenly going white, almost blinding me from behind and lighting up the hallway for a split second. Luckily both of my feet were solidly on a step so I didn't take a tumble or anything, but I couldn't help doing anything but laughing harder. 

After a second the little box crept up behind me and continued down, its status light continuing to show pinkish. I followed it slowly, the chuckle slowly dying in my throat as we reached Ceriths office. Well "office" was being nice. Morgue, mortuary, both of these fit just as well. Cerith was, for the most part, a recluse. We reached the door and the little robot continued through a little hole in the wall. I waited a second and knocked. "Enter!" Came the voice on the other side. I opened the door and stepped through. Along one wall set doors that normally housed the dead waiting to be processed. One out of dozens were open, its occupant missing from its silver slab. The middle of the room was brightly lit from a single overhead light. In the middle of the circle of light stood a figure, long Raven colored hair bound in a single braided ponytail, the rest of them bound in medical examination garb. They seemed to be engrossed in the corpse in front of them. The little robot rolled up next to Ceriths feet and made a little chiming noise. "Thank you Tabitha. That'll be all," said a voice that was neither male nor female from beneath the mask. Just sort of in the middle. "Tabitha? Never knew you to be sentimental," I said gently, the chuckle in my voice making itself clear. "I see you still find even the darkest things funny," Cerith quipped back. "My line of work Cer, you take the laughs where you get them. Look who's talking anyway, you're usually elbows deep inside someone 25/8. Even you have a seriously fucked up sense of humor." That got Cerith laughing, sounding like thunder and the whip crack of lightning at the same time. "You've got me there Julius," Cerith said after his laughter subsided. I think he suits him today. Which is both a good and bad sign. When Cerith is acting like a man, it usually means some grim news, but they are going to try to make it seem like not a big deal and laugh a lot. Plus they almost never call me Julius. Something was wrong. Very seriously wrong. As this realization hit me I got this odd tingle in the small of my back. Like someone had put several freezing needles under the skin and into my spine, something I'm familiar with from the anima-games from the cyber sphere. Halos: Divine Retribution If I remember right. Those Angels were sadistic bastards. I shuddered at both the memories from the game and the shockingly similar feeling I was experiencing. Dread, that feeling is dread my friend, the quiet part of my mind whispered to me. "Cer, what's wrong bud," I asked. He didn't say anything. For a long time. After a few minutes I was about to ask again, but then he spoke. And what came out will haunt me, quite possibly till the day I die. "This ones temporal lobes are gray matter. Nothing even close to being coherent. Just. Dead neurons. And he's not the first." Gone was the jovialness of the past ten minutes. This was Cerith the whisperer. In an almost dead tone they continued, "the others didn't fare nearly as well as this one. Most of the brain is intact here, which means that if they didn't deliver a massive shock or something similar to fully kill him he would have possibly lived as a vegetable with memory issues, but that's not what I'm looking for in this one here now. Now I'm trying to figure out what else the others had in common with him, and so far that's brought up all but naught. Well this one has a bit of liver damage. But that's about it. So Mr John was a drinker. Not much there." When Cerith is "whispering" the best thing to do is just let him be. But I couldn't help but prick my ears up at mentions of others with similar wounds, and the fact that this one had liver issues.... "Cer. You said... CERITH," I finally snapped out and caught his attention mid ramble. "Thank you. You said liver problems. But nothing similar to the others? No drugs? Alcohol? Not even a synth brain-pattern? You checked Everything?" "Well let's see, John here was a drinker that's for sure," Cerith said his hands never ceasing their work as he started to put 'John' back together seemingly satisfied that he found nothing else, " Mr Lombardo in chest 3 had cocaine mostly, and Mr Lei in chest 9 had opium. Although to tell you where it came from for both I'd have to do a molecular analysis and see what it compares to. Other than that, no. Absolutely nothing connecting any of them. As far as I can tell they are all unique cases completely separate from each other except for the damages to the brain. And I only found this by accident. During a routine scan I happened to look at the screen as it passed through the brain and noticed an odd density in his temporal lobes. Just slightly higher than normal. Hell to be honest with you it had the density of a fresh cutie, you know those little oranges?" I nodded, and he continued, "Right of course you do, who hasn't? Anyways it's just super dense compared to the surrounding tissues, and I take a sliver probe and drop it in like you do. And when I turn the damn thing on to look at the neurons the area all I see are dead cells packed on top of one another. Not natural decay death, but forced to die. Most of the cell walls were torn open like they had blown up from the INSIDE. That's when I called you." He finished up with 'John' putting the final few perfect stitches in place and sealing him up for good. Once he seemed happy with his work he called out to his seemingly empty morgue, "Grom I'm done! Can you put Mr John Doe here back in his room? Number 11 if you please." He turned away from the body on the table and removed the giant rubber gloves that went to his elbows. He walked into the dark calling out over his shoulder, "I'll be back in a sec I gotta scrub out, want a drink? I have beer, whiskey, vodka, I might have some Cognac somewhere, and bourbon. Your choice, just call out what you want and Tabitha will be there with it. Also have a seat! We have much to discuss." With that he disappeared from both sight and sound in the dark. It was a neat trick I have to admit, and it had something to do with how he had his morgue set up. Even the giant war machine that was Grom was absolutely quiet unless you managed to catch him through the gloom. I thought for the longest time the reason why I could never catch him sneaking around was from some sort of stealth program put into place, but when he goes up and down those stairs he's as loud as can be. So it was definitely not his program but the way the morgue was built. I'm confident in saying that because when I turned back to look at the table, or rather where it was, there was now a chair that looked like it had just grown out of the floor and the body was gone. Also the thought of something as big as a fridge just sneaking up on some poor combatants and snapping their necks as quietly as he walks in the morgue just gives me the heebies. As I sat in the chair a thought occurred to me. Considering how advanced the morgue seemed to be it would make sense that it had some sort of AI or integrated computer. "Computer?" I had been here a million times but I'd never had a chance to think about it nor try anything. But not even a second after I had said anything a response came. "Yes Detective Julius. My name is DANNA. Or Dynamically Actualized Neural Net AI. How can I be of service?" The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, slightly feminine and breathy, all service but no sex. Honestly I was just surprised that it worked. "DANNA, I was just wondering if I could take a look at the files that Cerith had mentioned? If it is as bad as they claim I think I might need to know anyway. Also if you can get those blood works done for me I'd appreciate it. Also something with whiskey or rum would be amazing." "Of course Detective. I will have Tabitha bring it shortly. And how would you like the information to be displayed? Desktop or dynamic?" That piqued my interest. "Dynamic please." No sooner than I had said a series of screens blinked into existence in front of me. It was some sort of Holographic display. I reached out and touched the display and was surprised that I got stopped by something. It was hard but surprisingly I found that I could push into the screen with my finger if I pushed hard enough. It kinda felt like... Oobleck. I also found that by pinching the corner I could pull the screens closer or further from me. I even found that I could grab individual pages of the reports off the screen and hold it. It felt like a thin sheet of plastic and responded like both a tablet and a singular document. If I switched pages the old one would appear back onto the screen and the next would pop onto it. This was about as slick a set up as I had ever seen and whistled my appreciation under my breath, I'm definitely going to have to ask Cerith about where they got DANNA from. "See something you like, big boy?" A very DEFINITELY female voice said in my ear from behind, soft and throaty, screaming come hither. I felt small dainty hands gently caress the tops of my shoulders before slipping down the front of my chest, pulling me back into the chair that I didn't realize I had been slouching in. "You know better than that, Jules. Your back is important and slouching will destroy the muscles and cause some to atrophy." The voice left no room for argument, and left me more than a little bit flushed. I closed my eyes and dropped my head back as far as it would go, the back of my head hitting something soft and warm, stretching my neck and back out. "Damnit Cer I thought you were scrubbing out, not completely changing." I hadn't realized it, but at least an hour had passed from when I started playing with the computer and working with the files if the clock on the computer was to be believed. "You looked like you were pretty into it so I decided not to disturb you. Plus you know how much fun it is for me to tease you like this. Especially after, well these..." One hand waved at the screens in front of me. The small hands' nails were painted the darkest black and almost made them blend into the void that existed outside of the screens. "I do Cer, and that's part of the problem, we both know that it's never going to happen. Least of all for you." She laughed a little, a clear beautiful sound and the body beneath my head bounced slightly telling me I was against her stomach. "Still I know you enjoy these little moments," she said, the pressure on the back of my head disappearing and was replaced by the voice right by my ear again as she whispered, "especially when we both know that's not at all true." At the last words she nibbled my ear gently. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her, in spite of my baser instinct rising to meet her VERY juicy insinuations. But for as long as I've known Cerith and as many times as we have both been VERY drunk, they have NEVER cashed in. I just assumed that it was a quirk of theirs. "Anyways," she said standing back up, "what are you thinking so far about the files? Spooky, right? Like I said, nothing that I can see connects them." Her hands gestured in front of me in an approximation of a shrug. She then clasped them together, wringing the knuckles and effectively trapping me in the chair and back against her abdomen. I scrubbed my eyes with my fingertips acutely aware of the growing headache that suddenly made itself known. "Your right from the medical side. I can't see everything you can, of course. I don't have near the knowledge that you have," which is true being that Cerith is at least 200 years old. I never asked directly, the old adage still holding about women and their age. Still though her answers to certain questions would lead one to believe her being her first adult car was a Bing Cherry 2201 Firebird GT with white walled hover trim and chrome accents. From pictures that I could find it looked like a slick piece. Looking back to the screens I couldn't help but feel that itch again. I couldn't explain it. That prickly feeling of ice needles again, this time in the back of my skull. As much as I'd hate to admit it. I think Cerith is right. I sighed heavily before saying "send me everything. I'll open a new case file and have the team start working on it first thing." She made a happy noise and bounced slightly, clearly satisfied with my decision to take it on. I reached out and to my left and a glass was placed gently into my hand by Tabitha. I hadn't even realized she had come over while I was working and was now ready for that drink. Room temperature rum and cola. The drink went down smoothly enough considering I drained the glass in one gulp, during which time I finally got a good eyeful of Ceriths current form. Or rather the underside of part of it. From what I could tell she was wearing a black T-shirt. That was it. I put the glass back down, it's job done without moving my head and said, "What a lovely view Cerith. I'm guessing you chose this to try to get a rise out of me?" I couldn't lie though it was affecting me, but I couldn't let her know that. Not when she's like this. Otherwise she'll continue to tease me till she leaves me with the absolute worst case of blue balls this side of the City. Her hands came up and cupped my chin almost lovingly, and her voice said "Of course Detective. Do you not approve? Or would you rather I change back to my medical examination form? Or something else?" Her words dripped with implied sex. I groaned, loudly, and said, "This is fine. Jesus Cer." Before we could continue our most scintillating of conversations there was a sudden PING! And DANNA said, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's a message for you Cerith. It says 'If you can get to the department Cerith, do so. We need you to explain your paperwork. And if Detective Julius is still with you have him come in too.' signed the Chief. Would you like to reply?" 'Shit, I forgot the morgue kills all signals,' I thought to myself as I stood up gently (regretfully) prying myself from Ceriths grasp with a, "duty calls. Need a lift?" I stretched gently, the scales in between my shoulders clicking appreciatively for the stretch, and turned around to notice she was indeed, just wearing a black T-shirt that hugged her voluptuous figure closely. The scales in my back clicked shut in surprise. Cerith let out a small cute chuckle, "I see after all this time I can still surprise you," she said blowing a kiss my way, reminding me of a little Gothic pixy. I rolled my eyes away from her and willed my scales to relax. I grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair, slinging it on and clicking the neck clasp shut under the cord that connected my scales to the unit in my head. I was awarded the cybernetics upon completing my training and getting all my licenses to have them. The force had allowed me to customize it, I had chosen top of the line. A dual unit with custom built AI. The individual scales were ceracoated titanium microprocessors all running in both series and parallel, and could move to expel heat or react. The main unit was the same except it was one solid unit that replaced a chunk of skull. Once that was done I zipped up the front of the leathers and ran the scales through the racer setting. They clicked and flattened against the outside of the jacket, securing it to my back. I shrugged making sure it was comfortable. "I'll take the fact that you're only in a t-shirt you'll be along shortly?" "Certainly detective." Her voice was filled with dismissive submission... And sadness? I looked back at her and noticed her makeup was gone. Or had she had any on in the first place? I gave myself a mental shake. There's no way. This was Cerith, veritable goddess of the necropolis. I put the last few minutes away for review later. Chief called. I have to go. On an instinct I thought long dead, I reached out and squeezed her hand. I felt a slight squeeze back. And then she let go with a, "Go on, be a good detective. I'll be along shortly." I left with Tabitha as my guide. Before Cerith disappeared into the darkness I thought I heard her whisper, "please don't leave." My scales raised in a saddened response. I couldn't be sure I heard her right though. If I heard her at all. I reached back and stroked them, knowing my ai probably heard her, and knowing it could feel me touch the scales. After a few seconds the scales settled down. 'I know buddy,' I thought to the AI. It couldn't respond like usual AI. The force thought that was too dangerous. What if it went rogue? What if it tried to kill the host and take over? The list went on and eventually they decided the basics were ok. When I got my unit one of the first things I did was jack it into a diagnostic to see what kind of hardware I was dealing with exactly because manufacturer specs from real use are sometimes different with AI if the bits and bobs are in place. When I did, all I got on the screen was 'Hello?'

the last few years i have had a flurry of new symptoms that drs keep pushing off they include:
random high blood pressure ( on 4 mg candesartan)
pain under arm pit to press and swelling, on chest , thing, knees ( not lymph related )
breathing issues at times ( heavy scratchy chest)
headaches
nausea
tingly buzzing feeling in arm sporadically
buzzing feeling in legs now
gallstones
thyroid cyst
breast cyst
vertigo
tests done:
stress test 2 years ago,( echo cardiogram ,24 blood pressure monitior )
4 chest x-rays
7 ultrasounds on underarms
4 abdominal
countless blood tests
breathing chamber test
DVT ultrasound on right leg
1 Ct Scan
10 EKG
2 Mammograms
1 internal ultrasound
1endoscopy
2 thyroid ultrasounds
any ideas what i can ask them to look for im so uncomfortable

About six months ago, I had a memory of dancing with someone, maybe eight or nine years ago, in a club. I hadn’t thought about this interaction in years, and didn’t think much about it than either, except that I thought it was weird (which is probably why it lingered in my brain). I was dancing with a girl and I started to feel her chest. She had a lot of energy and movement and was very into the music, but from my memory, nothing felt too off. This went on for a bit, and then we started to make out. After the first make out, I immediately left. It was very sloppy and I just remember thinking about how strange of a kiss it was. I didn’t think much of it though. I was pretty young at the time and didn’t have much experience with drunk people or people who may have been on some sort of party drug. That was the last I thought of it for many years.
When a memory of this popped back into my head a few months ago, it made me immediately think that she was in a state where she could not have consented to my advances. Since it was a long time ago, my memories are foggy, and I’m filling in the gaps with the worst case scenarios and it’s making me feel absolutely terrible. Even if she was enjoying it, I feel deeply guilty and ashamed that I acted predatory. I moved too quickly on her and didn’t make sure she was in a safe position where she wanted to be with me.
These thoughts have been flooding my brain, and I’m finding it difficult to think about anything but this. I’ve run through the events in my head, endlessly, and each time I feel more confused. I cannot accept the uncertainty, and I wish I knew who she was so I could talk to her. I can’t live with the fact that I may have had such a devastating impact on someone else’s life. I wish I could ask her how she is and I hope that she is doing well, and that this event did not have a significant impact on her life.
I’ve had a girlfriend for over two years and I’m not sure if I should tell her how I’m feeling. I feel like I’m lying to her every day by letting her think I’m a good person. She tells me that I’m kind and considerate, but I can’t help but think about this event when she says that. I love her so much and I can’t imagine not being with her, but I’m certain she would leave me if I told her about it. It’s been consuming me from the inside. I feel so deeply ashamed of my actions and I wish I could reverse time. When I see young kids, I get sad about how good I was back then and then how I ended up being what I am today. I feel like I’ve let everyone down around me who thinks highly of me. I’m scared that I’ll lose everyone. I’m scared that I seriously hurt someone.

I just want to know if I’m rightfully pissed off at my command. I joined last year as an E3 before they announced the E3-E4 TIS requirement (that I’m aware of), I didn’t see anything about it until after boot camp. I thought I had a saving grace, because I would have TIR requirements before the NAVADMIN takes effect in July (I met them in February). I tried to be a squared away Sailor! I got quals, I took Collaterals, I volunteer, I enrolled in School, I went up for BJOQ, I did so many things to prove that I am worthy of E4. My Chief had me get a spec eval for my profile sheet and really fought for me, but when it was routed to my Department Head they kept putting it off until it was a month past the due date. Now I’m being told that I’m going to be lucky to get E4 before TIS kicks in. What’s frustrating is that there are a few people I went to Boot Camp and A school with that are getting E4, and half of them were kind of dirtbags when I knew them. Sorry if this doesn’t read very well, I’m frustrated. The problem is that I’m not sure if I’m okay to feel frustrated and screwed over by my CoC. My Chief is amazing, but my Department Head isn’t great at getting things done in a timely matter, even with pressure from my Chief. So Reddit, do I have any right to be frustrated with my DH?

At have triggers in this short story...My parents will be addressed as my abusers one of my two brothers will be called affect sex offender the other brother will be called a molester who molested me my sister is going to be called I take everything way too serious she's a b**** so she's bitch growing up we were in a very abusive home where we each got our own way of abuse from our deezers I have an older brother and another sister from my mother first married I am my first born to my father and the firstborn grandchild on my father's side I have another brother he followed me 18 months later and I was pretty mean to him I saw man digging it up dumpster and My dumb brother asked what he was doing I said he's probably looking for you because that's where we found you and my abusers would abuse me all the time I literally memorized my Pepe's phone number so I would pack my Barbie suitcase and I would sit on the curb by a sewer line where I wasn't supposed to sit but I would stay at my grandparents' house for days months I did private school through them I went to regular school through town I would be the one to call 911 on my grandfather when he went into the hospital that day plays everyday in my head and he makes me cookie and all he would say is Cookie get the elephant off my chest get the elephant off my chest I knew it wasn't going to be good and I was right he was roughly in the hospital a couple of weeks and he passed he passed in the middle of the night this is when I realized I was in bath at the age of 12 he came to me he said he loves me and he said that he will always be by my side and protect me and yes they just were the other person I miss in my family is the closest I had with my uncles and cousins due t my abusers they turn the family on me cuz apparently whatever my abuser says went down exactly how they say it but they never told them what they did to me there's one thing that goes in my head and it pis me off my abusers is things in front of my siblings and I I remember one of my siblings getting beat up I remember a sibling nail it kneeling in the kitchen on rice I remember another sibling getting away with absolutely everything the sex offender the molester was forced out of the home because I had a big mouth and I was telling everybody the state I came from was Massachusetts and they failed to me I moved to Florida with my other abuser to meet my other abuser you had one of my siblings with her all I have to say is a sex offender is held at a higher standard in my family then someone who committed robberies with no weapon I'm not saying I'm right and I'm not saying I'm wrong I'm saying I did my time no I didn't go find God in jail for prison that's not why I went to do my time my time was to do 27 months it wasn't to find God I was supposed to rehab and I didn't do that because they are idiot Florida correctional institution is insane and I am happy to say that me and a nurse closed Broward county institution for women due to the neglect the living conditions the rats the cockroaches the bed bugs the spider bites I have so many scars from them that it's insane as an intention in my leg where the brown recluse spider bite ate the muscle in my leg and when they would take the dressing off they would have to put a white cheek close by because the pus and the nasty muscle that turned into pus and turned into deteriorating muscles I thank her everyday and I wish wish I knew where she was so I could give her a great big hug and tell her thank you for sticking by me they transferred her because I made a mistake and gave her a hug out on compound and they transferred her to a different person but other inmates for telling me she was giving them messages to tell me she wasn't giving up on me and that she was still looking into it I owe her everything the little bit of time that I had with this nurse showed me love remorse didn't judge me and admired me for owning everything I did ruining my children to get life ruining my own life making my husband and my life difficult my stepson is never happy with me anymore there's nothing I can do and I'm not going to fight it no more I don't care I'm not going to let it bother me the past is the past I learned my lesson I got out in 2005 have not been in trouble with the loss jail and prison for hell and I'm never going back there's nothing that anybody could do to make me want to go back ever again and I'm withholding 2005 to present day 2024 clean off drugs sober off of I've been off drugs I haven't relapsed I'm a very proud of myself and I hope that I inspire somebody to tell their story of abuse and a correctional institution and I will look into it and I'll see what I can do to make the situation better Florida is not known for their wonderful persons in jails their roads infested their nasty they make the inmates live in unconditional situations I want to put my dog in the guards overstep their boundaries every which way we could insulted you made you feel like you were nobody you already took my freedom you're going to take myself to steam too then lock up the whole fat was just a trip and a half every time they could they would put me in the hole why I wasn't doing anything you know why because I found out that people were going around after they found out with my charges were I wonder who he told people that the person guards only knew what I did the inmates wanted to do them and every time something came up missing in a pot I was in it was my fault and didn't even matter it couldn't even be my and I would get in trouble because they said I stole and I never in a million years stole anything from anybody I had my own money coming in and I was buying my own things and my story will continue because it's not over yet......

One thing that has always been a thought for me is wondering how transition from gravity to pressure flow in gravity sewer networks (when the network becomes inundated) effects the flow capacity of the lines and therefore the actual HGL & EGL. Especially in residential networks where it could be beneficial to drop pipe sizes. Anyone know of any studies/softwares that have this capability? Of course just using the Q value calculated from Manning's equation is conservative, but I wonder if its overdoing things when you've theoretically got 4' of additional head built up in a drainage structure.

The HRRFY.
It’s the horror movie festival where something genuinely fucked happens every year. And I mean every year.
Like, there are some screenings that unleash hordes of bats while the movie is playing. You're free to leave whenever you want, but the movie will still play for 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Other screenings hire actors to turn at you and scream at some point in the movie. You have no idea when, or how many times.
It's a festival where the word "illegal" can't even begin to describe what happens. You'd only attend if you were a young, stupid edgelord like me who was trying to prove he was hardcore to his friends.
Trust me. DO NOT GO.
You have nothing to prove to anyone. Don't be stupid.
Wait for the lamer film versions to come out streaming. That's what everyone else does. They're neutered edits but they're fine.
All they lack is the real gleaming thing everyone wants to see at HRRFY, but who cares. At least you don’t get traumatized. At least you’re not risking your life.
Anyway, if you really want to know what attending HRRFY is like. I’ll be quick and summarize the one screening I went to. It was the 20th anniversary, and I was lucky enough to get in.
***
I had signed up for the HRRFY mailing list, and joined the subreddit. Through a series of cryptic online emails I solved a sequence of riddles and was entered in the lottery for a HRRFY entry.
Lady Luck took a shine to me, because one day in my mailbox, I received a physical ticket. I had done it.
I was going.
The actual ‘ticket’ was a black USB key that announced the location of the festival the night before (which I won’t disclose here) and it did force me to pay for a very expensive flight in order for me to make it on time.
You see, to prevent getting shut down, the location of HRRFY changes every year. Some years the local police have managed to stop it, but for the most part, authorities have given up. What’s the point of arresting or charging anyone, if all the organizers and attendees actually want to be there?
Upon arrival, I had to pick between three participating theaters.
Based on title alone, I decided to go see “Many Drownings” (directed by Oleksander Gołański.) It was in the theater that was furthest away from the downtown core, which meant it was likely the one where the craziest shit was bound to happen.
That’s what I came here for right?
I lined up a solid two hours before the screening like everyone else. The entire line was jittering, just vibrating with excited twenty-somethings. Rumors flew left and right.
“I heard they’re going to force everyone to take acid.”
“I heard an actor’s gonna run in and shotgun the ceiling.”
“I heard they’re going to disappear like four more people this year. At this screening!”
Each year people disappeared. And each year the same people were ‘found.’ And yes this is the worst part, and why should never, ever, ever go to this event.
Again I will repeat myself. DO NOT GO.
No one has ever truly gone 'missing' at HRRFY in any legal or physical sense, because every missing person always shows up a day later, convinced that they are fine—refusing to elaborate further.
There are some small support groups for people who have family members who had gone to HRRFY, and came back irrevocably changed after being ‘found.’
These few unlucky people lose all semblance of personality. They don’t want interviews, or help, or therapy, or contact of any kind. And they never, ever want to talk about what they saw.
Some HRRFY fans think that these ‘found’ people were body-snatched. Cloned in a lab or replaced by a cyborg, or something stupid like that.
But I think there’s a far simpler explanation. The ‘found’ are still the same people. They're just terrified. They got shaken by something that shattered the foundation of their mind, body and soul. They got too scared.
They got HRRFY’d.
***
I should mention I had a cough the day I went. And I was worried my sickly appearance might give me trouble at the airport.
So I invested in an intense double N95 mask which I wore for the whole flight, and continued to wear even at the screening of “Many Drownings.”
It made my face hot and uncomfortable, but it still didn’t stop me from yelling “excuse me, excuse me!” as I ran to snag a seat in the back of the theater.
I always preferred sitting in the far back. You get a good view of the whole screen, and a good view of the whole audience.
Beside me sat a big dude named Sylvester, who apparently flew all the way from Australia to attend HRRFY.
“Worth the full Seventeen hours mate! It’s gonna be epic!” he dropped a massive camping backpack beside me, which I assume contained all of his luggage.
The lights dimmed, and the production company logos started to play.
The whispering, giggling and suspense all stacked upon each other to create an electric feeling in the air. I was giddy. It's like the entire audience was embarking on a massive roller coaster.
The anticipation was the best part for sure. It might have been the only good part.
Then the movie started.
It was a wide shot of a gray, stormy sea. The waves were massive, and the thunderclouds were looming. There was no land visible in any direction.
All we could hear was the sound of waves foaming, swirling, and crashing over and over. Lightning crackled. Rain poured. The camera held perfectly still over this storm as if it was mounted on a perfectly hovering drone. A drone so resilient that it didn’t waver at all.
I thought it had to be CGI.
The shot held like this for the next few moments. Everyone sat glued to their seats. Everyone was thinking the same thing.
What’s going to happen? How are they going to scare us?
People chuckled. People cheered. People wanted to tease whatever was going to happen—to happen already.
But nothing did.
Five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes went by without any change. People started snoring.
I looked beside me and saw that Sylvester—the most excited audience member of them all—had fallen totally asleep. The jet lag must’ve gotten to him.
Then I peered beyond the rest of the audience members and saw other people snoozing too. Heads were keeled over, some people were curled in their seats, some had even spilled out into the aisle and were dozing on the floor.
I looked above the bright screen, at the huge vents in the corner of the theater. I saw a faint white gas emerging from the vents.
Holy shit. What have we been breathing? I tightened the straps on my N95 mask, and made my breathing shallower.
The gas must have been pumping since the opening credits—because how else would an audience of two hundred people all fall asleep?
As I moved my hand through the air in front of me, I could sense the thickness. It was definitely hazier than usual. I took the scarf off my neck and wrapped it around my mouth as well.
Then I spotted movement in front of the screen.
It was a tall blonde man, wearing a black trenchcoat and military-grade gas mask. Beside him arrived six hazmat suits who started pointing at various audience members.
I slunk in my chair, pretending to sleep like everyone else.
Two hazmats walked over to the front row and picked out a sleeping guy in flannel. They lifted flannel up, under the armpits and by his ankles, carrying him between them both like a hammock.
The hazmats walked back up to the stage, where the blonde leader inspected the flannel man and tapped his head. Something was approved?
The hazmats began to swing flannel back and forth, as if they were getting ready to toss him. Despite their masks, I could hear a very muffled, very distant countdown.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One…”
The flannel audience member was tossed into the screen.
I literally watched him fly into the image of stormy waves … andfallinto them. The flannel man sank into the gray water like a rock, leaving a few bubbles and foam. A wave came crashing down. All trace of him was gone.
What the fuck.
All six hazmats began grabbing more audience members with much more urgency. It became a minute-long process where they would pick the sleeping person up, bring them beside the screen, and then swing-toss them into it.
How was this possible?
I turned slightly to see if there was a projector above me, and realized there was none. Which meant maybe there was no screen on stage.
Which meant … maybe it was a portal?
I tried to wake Sylvester by shaking him. I pinched his leg and arm a bunch.
He was out cold.
The hazmats started grabbing audience members from the middle rows now. They were emptying the whole theater. What the hell was I supposed to do?
I waited until they grabbed another batch, only a few rows down from me. When all hazmats had their backs turned—I broke into a run.
With my left arm, I tightly gripped my mask and scarf against my face, while my right arm vaulted me over seat after seat.
I had never breathed so hard—through so much fabric—in my life.
The hazmats all turned to me. “Hey! Hey!” But their hands were full with their next victims.
I ran all the way down the aisle, to the big exit sign on the left. My heartbeat filled my head. My plan was to dropkick through the exit door.
I imagined myself breaking through like some flying gazelle.
I jumped.
I angled my kick.
It might as well have been a brick wall. I fell ass-first to the ground, followed by my head. Of course the door was locked.
Through a muffled mask I heard a sneering scoff.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Above me stood the one wearing a trenchcoat. I could see his piercing gray eyes through his gas mask.
I rolled aside and tried to run by him. He lifted a foot and tripped me without effort.
My forehead bashed into an empty seat. It dazed me.
The blonde leader bent down and grabbed me by the neck, tearing away my scarf and mask.
“No! No!”
A sweet, ether-like smell filled my nostrils. I did my best to hold my breath, but I could already feel myself getting light-headed.
The other hazmats joined in, grabbing me from all sides. Even if I had the strength to struggle, there was no escape now.
Above me, all I could see was the dark theater ceiling, and some of the light behind me from the cinema screen.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“No. Please. Don’t do thi—”
SPLASH.
I was plunged deep into cold, wet chaos. My head was completely underwater.
Gagging. Bubbles. Spinning.
I fought for dear life, dog-paddling like a maniac.
Churning. Freezing. Panic.
For a second, my head popped above the water. I inhaled all the air my lungs could muster. I stared across a vast, violent ocean.
An enormous thirty foot wave came in my direction.
My whole body lifted higher and higher as the wave approached. I did my best to tread water. It seemed to be working.
Then a series of smaller waves arrived and smacked my chest.
SPLASH.
Spinning. Kicking. Flipping.
My view alternated between the pitch dark ocean beneath me, and the moonlit night sky above.
Again I swam to the surface, popped my head out. Ravenously sucked in air.
There was a small lull in the water.
Around me I now registered the other theater goers. Most of them were lying face-down or sinking … but a few were flapping about like me, fighting for their life.
And above all of us, a floating white shape.
It was painfully bright, I had to lift one hand to look at it.
My jaw dropped.
It was the movie screen, hanging completely still in the air. It showed a dark, empty theater. The exact same theater we all occupied moments ago.
It was tremendously high, above all of our heads. There was no way of reaching it.
Then I saw another thirty foot wave come our way. It grazed the bottom of the screen.
I knew what had to be done.
***
One of the theater goers happened to be on a college swim team. She was the first one able to traverse one of the giant waves and climb into the screen.
Once she was up there, she found a firehose in the theater and reeled it out to us like a rope.
One by one, we swam as hard as we could, praying to God we could reach the rope. Everyone’s energy was sapped. Your body can only sustain itself on adrenaline and fear for so long.
By some miracle, five of us got out.
I was the last.
I climbed the rope coughing and vomiting. I had swallowed so much water that my stomach felt swollen.
When I reached the top and they pulled me into the screen, I sobbed. I couldn’t stop crying.
My life had flashed countless times before my eyes. In bubbling, suffocating visions, I saw both my parents and my brother. I saw my highschool graduation. I saw my favorite Christmas from when I was six years old.
I had almost lost all of that. I had lost almost everything.
On the dirty, carpeted theater floor, I lay with my face down, savoring the fact that I now lay on a hard surface. God bless ground. God bless this filthy, popcorn-strewn ground.
Beside me I heard bantering, hugging, the wringing of wet clothes. Sylvester was the second last to be saved, and he was particularly vocal.
“Wooooooaaaaahh!” He came and drummed me on the back, lifted me up. “Oh my god dude! Holy shit!”
I sat on my knees, wiping the tears and snot off my mouth.
Sylvester clapped his hands, held his face and screamed some more.
“Holy shit dude! That was so fucking scary! Like literally people were dying beside us. Like I SAW people die!”
I nodded, shivering in my drenched clothes. “ I know it was—”
“—That was craaaaazy!”
He laughed and stood up, patting everyone on the back. He kept clapping his hands like this was some sports event.
“That was sick! That was siiiiiiiiick!”
He ruffled someone’s hair then ran up to me with an open palm.
“High five dude! WE MADE IT! High five!
“Don’t leave me hangin’ dude!”

The HRRFY.
It’s the horror movie festival where something genuinely fucked happens every year. And I mean every year.
Like, there are some screenings that unleash hordes of bats while the movie is playing. You're free to leave whenever you want, but the movie will still play for 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Other screenings hire actors to turn at you and scream at some point in the movie. You have no idea when, or how many times.
It's a festival where the word "illegal" can't even begin to describe what happens. You'd only attend if you were a young, stupid edgelord like me who was trying to prove he was hardcore to his friends.
Trust me. DO NOT GO.
You have nothing to prove to anyone. Don't be stupid.
Wait for the lamer film versions to come out streaming. That's what everyone else does. They're neutered edits but they're fine.
All they lack is the real gleaming thing everyone wants to see at HRRFY, but who cares. At least you don’t get traumatized. At least you’re not risking your life.
Anyway, if you really want to know what attending HRRFY is like. I’ll be quick and summarize the one screening I went to. It was the 20th anniversary, and I was lucky enough to get in.
***
I had signed up for the HRRFY mailing list, and joined the subreddit. Through a series of cryptic online emails I solved a sequence of riddles and was entered in the lottery for a HRRFY entry.
Lady Luck took a shine to me, because one day in my mailbox, I received a physical ticket. I had done it.
I was going.
The actual ‘ticket’ was a black USB key that announced the location of the festival the night before (which I won’t disclose here) and it did force me to pay for a very expensive flight in order for me to make it on time.
You see, to prevent getting shut down, the location of HRRFY changes every year. Some years the local police have managed to stop it, but for the most part, authorities have given up. What’s the point of arresting or charging anyone, if all the organizers and attendees actually want to be there?
Upon arrival, I had to pick between three participating theaters.
Based on title alone, I decided to go see “Many Drownings” (directed by Oleksander Gołański.) It was in the theater that was furthest away from the downtown core, which meant it was likely the one where the craziest shit was bound to happen.
That’s what I came here for right?
I lined up a solid two hours before the screening like everyone else. The entire line was jittering, just vibrating with excited twenty-somethings. Rumors flew left and right.
“I heard they’re going to force everyone to take acid.”
“I heard an actor’s gonna run in and shotgun the ceiling.”
“I heard they’re going to disappear like four more people this year. At this screening!”
Each year people disappeared. And each year the same people were ‘found.’ And yes this is the worst part, and why should never, ever, ever go to this event.
Again I will repeat myself. DO NOT GO.
No one has ever truly gone 'missing' at HRRFY in any legal or physical sense, because every missing person always shows up a day later, convinced that they are fine—refusing to elaborate further.
There are some small support groups for people who have family members who had gone to HRRFY, and came back irrevocably changed after being ‘found.’
These few unlucky people lose all semblance of personality. They don’t want interviews, or help, or therapy, or contact of any kind. And they never, ever want to talk about what they saw.
Some HRRFY fans think that these ‘found’ people were body-snatched. Cloned in a lab or replaced by a cyborg, or something stupid like that.
But I think there’s a far simpler explanation. The ‘found’ are still the same people. They're just terrified. They got shaken by something that shattered the foundation of their mind, body and soul. They got too scared.
They got HRRFY’d.
***
I should mention I had a cough the day I went. And I was worried my sickly appearance might give me trouble at the airport.
So I invested in an intense double N95 mask which I wore for the whole flight, and continued to wear even at the screening of “Many Drownings.”
It made my face hot and uncomfortable, but it still didn’t stop me from yelling “excuse me, excuse me!” as I ran to snag a seat in the back of the theater.
I always preferred sitting in the far back. You get a good view of the whole screen, and a good view of the whole audience.
Beside me sat a big dude named Sylvester, who apparently flew all the way from Australia to attend HRRFY.
“Worth the full Seventeen hours mate! It’s gonna be epic!” he dropped a massive camping backpack beside me, which I assume contained all of his luggage.
The lights dimmed, and the production company logos started to play.
The whispering, giggling and suspense all stacked upon each other to create an electric feeling in the air. I was giddy. It's like the entire audience was embarking on a massive roller coaster.
The anticipation was the best part for sure. It might have been the only good part.
Then the movie started.
It was a wide shot of a gray, stormy sea. The waves were massive, and the thunderclouds were looming. There was no land visible in any direction.
All we could hear was the sound of waves foaming, swirling, and crashing over and over. Lightning crackled. Rain poured. The camera held perfectly still over this storm as if it was mounted on a perfectly hovering drone. A drone so resilient that it didn’t waver at all.
I thought it had to be CGI.
The shot held like this for the next few moments. Everyone sat glued to their seats. Everyone was thinking the same thing.
What’s going to happen? How are they going to scare us?
People chuckled. People cheered. People wanted to tease whatever was going to happen—to happen already.
But nothing did.
Five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes went by without any change. People started snoring.
I looked beside me and saw that Sylvester—the most excited audience member of them all—had fallen totally asleep. The jet lag must’ve gotten to him.
Then I peered beyond the rest of the audience members and saw other people snoozing too. Heads were keeled over, some people were curled in their seats, some had even spilled out into the aisle and were dozing on the floor.
I looked above the bright screen, at the huge vents in the corner of the theater. I saw a faint white gas emerging from the vents.
Holy shit. What have we been breathing? I tightened the straps on my N95 mask, and made my breathing shallower.
The gas must have been pumping since the opening credits—because how else would an audience of two hundred people all fall asleep?
As I moved my hand through the air in front of me, I could sense the thickness. It was definitely hazier than usual. I took the scarf off my neck and wrapped it around my mouth as well.
Then I spotted movement in front of the screen.
It was a tall blonde man, wearing a black trenchcoat and military-grade gas mask. Beside him arrived six hazmat suits who started pointing at various audience members.
I slunk in my chair, pretending to sleep like everyone else.
Two hazmats walked over to the front row and picked out a sleeping guy in flannel. They lifted flannel up, under the armpits and by his ankles, carrying him between them both like a hammock.
The hazmats walked back up to the stage, where the blonde leader inspected the flannel man and tapped his head. Something was approved?
The hazmats began to swing flannel back and forth, as if they were getting ready to toss him. Despite their masks, I could hear a very muffled, very distant countdown.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One…”
The flannel audience member was tossed into the screen.
I literally watched him fly into the image of stormy waves … andfallinto them. The flannel man sank into the gray water like a rock, leaving a few bubbles and foam. A wave came crashing down. All trace of him was gone.
What the fuck.
All six hazmats began grabbing more audience members with much more urgency. It became a minute-long process where they would pick the sleeping person up, bring them beside the screen, and then swing-toss them into it.
How was this possible?
I turned slightly to see if there was a projector above me, and realized there was none. Which meant maybe there was no screen on stage.
Which meant … maybe it was a portal?
I tried to wake Sylvester by shaking him. I pinched his leg and arm a bunch.
He was out cold.
The hazmats started grabbing audience members from the middle rows now. They were emptying the whole theater. What the hell was I supposed to do?
I waited until they grabbed another batch, only a few rows down from me. When all hazmats had their backs turned—I broke into a run.
With my left arm, I tightly gripped my mask and scarf against my face, while my right arm vaulted me over seat after seat.
I had never breathed so hard—through so much fabric—in my life.
The hazmats all turned to me. “Hey! Hey!” But their hands were full with their next victims.
I ran all the way down the aisle, to the big exit sign on the left. My heartbeat filled my head. My plan was to dropkick through the exit door.
I imagined myself breaking through like some flying gazelle.
I jumped.
I angled my kick.
It might as well have been a brick wall. I fell ass-first to the ground, followed by my head. Of course the door was locked.
Through a muffled mask I heard a sneering scoff.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Above me stood the one wearing a trenchcoat. I could see his piercing gray eyes through his gas mask.
I rolled aside and tried to run by him. He lifted a foot and tripped me without effort.
My forehead bashed into an empty seat. It dazed me.
The blonde leader bent down and grabbed me by the neck, tearing away my scarf and mask.
“No! No!”
A sweet, ether-like smell filled my nostrils. I did my best to hold my breath, but I could already feel myself getting light-headed.
The other hazmats joined in, grabbing me from all sides. Even if I had the strength to struggle, there was no escape now.
Above me, all I could see was the dark theater ceiling, and some of the light behind me from the cinema screen.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“No. Please. Don’t do thi—”
SPLASH.
I was plunged deep into cold, wet chaos. My head was completely underwater.
Gagging. Bubbles. Spinning.
I fought for dear life, dog-paddling like a maniac.
Churning. Freezing. Panic.
For a second, my head popped above the water. I inhaled all the air my lungs could muster. I stared across a vast, violent ocean.
An enormous thirty foot wave came in my direction.
My whole body lifted higher and higher as the wave approached. I did my best to tread water. It seemed to be working.
Then a series of smaller waves arrived and smacked my chest.
SPLASH.
Spinning. Kicking. Flipping.
My view alternated between the pitch dark ocean beneath me, and the moonlit night sky above.
Again I swam to the surface, popped my head out. Ravenously sucked in air.
There was a small lull in the water.
Around me I now registered the other theater goers. Most of them were lying face-down or sinking … but a few were flapping about like me, fighting for their life.
And above all of us, a floating white shape.
It was painfully bright, I had to lift one hand to look at it.
My jaw dropped.
It was the movie screen, hanging completely still in the air. It showed a dark, empty theater. The exact same theater we all occupied moments ago.
It was tremendously high, above all of our heads. There was no way of reaching it.
Then I saw another thirty foot wave come our way. It grazed the bottom of the screen.
I knew what had to be done.
***
One of the theater goers happened to be on a college swim team. She was the first one able to traverse one of the giant waves and climb into the screen.
Once she was up there, she found a firehose in the theater and reeled it out to us like a rope.
One by one, we swam as hard as we could, praying to God we could reach the rope. Everyone’s energy was sapped. Your body can only sustain itself on adrenaline and fear for so long.
By some miracle, five of us got out.
I was the last.
I climbed the rope coughing and vomiting. I had swallowed so much water that my stomach felt swollen.
When I reached the top and they pulled me into the screen, I sobbed. I couldn’t stop crying.
My life had flashed countless times before my eyes. In bubbling, suffocating visions, I saw both my parents and my brother. I saw my highschool graduation. I saw my favorite Christmas from when I was six years old.
I had almost lost all of that. I had lost almost everything.
On the dirty, carpeted theater floor, I lay with my face down, savoring the fact that I now lay on a hard surface. God bless ground. God bless this filthy, popcorn-strewn ground.
Beside me I heard bantering, hugging, the wringing of wet clothes. Sylvester was the second last to be saved, and he was particularly vocal.
“Wooooooaaaaahh!” He came and drummed me on the back, lifted me up. “Oh my god dude! Holy shit!”
I sat on my knees, wiping the tears and snot off my mouth.
Sylvester clapped his hands, held his face and screamed some more.
“Holy shit dude! That was so fucking scary! Like literally people were dying beside us. Like I SAW people die!”
I nodded, shivering in my drenched clothes. “ I know it was—”
“—That was craaaaazy!”
He laughed and stood up, patting everyone on the back. He kept clapping his hands like this was some sports event.
“That was sick! That was siiiiiiiiick!”
He ruffled someone’s hair then ran up to me with an open palm.
“High five dude! WE MADE IT! High five!
“Don’t leave me hangin’ dude!”

The HRRFY.
It’s the horror movie festival where something genuinely fucked happens every year. And I mean every year.
Like, there are some screenings that unleash hordes of bats while the movie is playing. You're free to leave whenever you want, but the movie will still play for 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Other screenings hire actors to turn at you and scream at some point in the movie. You have no idea when, or how many times.
It's a festival where the word "illegal" can't even begin to describe what happens. You'd only attend if you were a young, stupid edgelord like me who was trying to prove he was hardcore to his friends.
Trust me. DO NOT GO.
You have nothing to prove to anyone. Don't be stupid.
Wait for the lamer film versions to come out streaming. That's what everyone else does. They're neutered edits but they're fine.
All they lack is the real gleaming thing everyone wants to see at HRRFY, but who cares. At least you don’t get traumatized. At least you’re not risking your life.
Anyway, if you really want to know what attending HRRFY is like. I’ll be quick and summarize the one screening I went to. It was the 20th anniversary, and I was lucky enough to get in.
***
I had signed up for the HRRFY mailing list, and joined the subreddit. Through a series of cryptic online emails I solved a sequence of riddles and was entered in the lottery for a HRRFY entry.
Lady Luck took a shine to me, because one day in my mailbox, I received a physical ticket. I had done it.
I was going.
The actual ‘ticket’ was a black USB key that announced the location of the festival the night before (which I won’t disclose here) and it did force me to pay for a very expensive flight in order for me to make it on time.
You see, to prevent getting shut down, the location of HRRFY changes every year. Some years the local police have managed to stop it, but for the most part, authorities have given up. What’s the point of arresting or charging anyone, if all the organizers and attendees actually want to be there?
Upon arrival, I had to pick between three participating theaters.
Based on title alone, I decided to go see “Many Drownings” (directed by Oleksander Gołański.) It was in the theater that was furthest away from the downtown core, which meant it was likely the one where the craziest shit was bound to happen.
That’s what I came here for right?
I lined up a solid two hours before the screening like everyone else. The entire line was jittering, just vibrating with excited twenty-somethings. Rumors flew left and right.
“I heard they’re going to force everyone to take acid.”
“I heard an actor’s gonna run in and shotgun the ceiling.”
“I heard they’re going to disappear like four more people this year. At this screening!”
Each year people disappeared. And each year the same people were ‘found.’ And yes this is the worst part, and why should never, ever, ever go to this event.
Again I will repeat myself. DO NOT GO.
No one has ever truly gone 'missing' at HRRFY in any legal or physical sense, because every missing person always shows up a day later, convinced that they are fine—refusing to elaborate further.
There are some small support groups for people who have family members who had gone to HRRFY, and came back irrevocably changed after being ‘found.’
These few unlucky people lose all semblance of personality. They don’t want interviews, or help, or therapy, or contact of any kind. And they never, ever want to talk about what they saw.
Some HRRFY fans think that these ‘found’ people were body-snatched. Cloned in a lab or replaced by a cyborg, or something stupid like that.
But I think there’s a far simpler explanation. The ‘found’ are still the same people. They're just terrified. They got shaken by something that shattered the foundation of their mind, body and soul. They got too scared.
They got HRRFY’d.
***
I should mention I had a cough the day I went. And I was worried my sickly appearance might give me trouble at the airport.
So I invested in an intense double N95 mask which I wore for the whole flight, and continued to wear even at the screening of “Many Drownings.”
It made my face hot and uncomfortable, but it still didn’t stop me from yelling “excuse me, excuse me!” as I ran to snag a seat in the back of the theater.
I always preferred sitting in the far back. You get a good view of the whole screen, and a good view of the whole audience.
Beside me sat a big dude named Sylvester, who apparently flew all the way from Australia to attend HRRFY.
“Worth the full Seventeen hours mate! It’s gonna be epic!” he dropped a massive camping backpack beside me, which I assume contained all of his luggage.
The lights dimmed, and the production company logos started to play.
The whispering, giggling and suspense all stacked upon each other to create an electric feeling in the air. I was giddy. It's like the entire audience was embarking on a massive roller coaster.
The anticipation was the best part for sure. It might have been the only good part.
Then the movie started.
It was a wide shot of a gray, stormy sea. The waves were massive, and the thunderclouds were looming. There was no land visible in any direction.
All we could hear was the sound of waves foaming, swirling, and crashing over and over. Lightning crackled. Rain poured. The camera held perfectly still over this storm as if it was mounted on a perfectly hovering drone. A drone so resilient that it didn’t waver at all.
I thought it had to be CGI.
The shot held like this for the next few moments. Everyone sat glued to their seats. Everyone was thinking the same thing.
What’s going to happen? How are they going to scare us?
People chuckled. People cheered. People wanted to tease whatever was going to happen—to happen already.
But nothing did.
Five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes went by without any change. People started snoring.
I looked beside me and saw that Sylvester—the most excited audience member of them all—had fallen totally asleep. The jet lag must’ve gotten to him.
Then I peered beyond the rest of the audience members and saw other people snoozing too. Heads were keeled over, some people were curled in their seats, some had even spilled out into the aisle and were dozing on the floor.
I looked above the bright screen, at the huge vents in the corner of the theater. I saw a faint white gas emerging from the vents.
Holy shit. What have we been breathing? I tightened the straps on my N95 mask, and made my breathing shallower.
The gas must have been pumping since the opening credits—because how else would an audience of two hundred people all fall asleep?
As I moved my hand through the air in front of me, I could sense the thickness. It was definitely hazier than usual. I took the scarf off my neck and wrapped it around my mouth as well.
Then I spotted movement in front of the screen.
It was a tall blonde man, wearing a black trenchcoat and military-grade gas mask. Beside him arrived six hazmat suits who started pointing at various audience members.
I slunk in my chair, pretending to sleep like everyone else.
Two hazmats walked over to the front row and picked out a sleeping guy in flannel. They lifted flannel up, under the armpits and by his ankles, carrying him between them both like a hammock.
The hazmats walked back up to the stage, where the blonde leader inspected the flannel man and tapped his head. Something was approved?
The hazmats began to swing flannel back and forth, as if they were getting ready to toss him. Despite their masks, I could hear a very muffled, very distant countdown.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One…”
The flannel audience member was tossed into the screen.
I literally watched him fly into the image of stormy waves … andfallinto them. The flannel man sank into the gray water like a rock, leaving a few bubbles and foam. A wave came crashing down. All trace of him was gone.
What the fuck.
All six hazmats began grabbing more audience members with much more urgency. It became a minute-long process where they would pick the sleeping person up, bring them beside the screen, and then swing-toss them into it.
How was this possible?
I turned slightly to see if there was a projector above me, and realized there was none. Which meant maybe there was no screen on stage.
Which meant … maybe it was a portal?
I tried to wake Sylvester by shaking him. I pinched his leg and arm a bunch.
He was out cold.
The hazmats started grabbing audience members from the middle rows now. They were emptying the whole theater. What the hell was I supposed to do?
I waited until they grabbed another batch, only a few rows down from me. When all hazmats had their backs turned—I broke into a run.
With my left arm, I tightly gripped my mask and scarf against my face, while my right arm vaulted me over seat after seat.
I had never breathed so hard—through so much fabric—in my life.
The hazmats all turned to me. “Hey! Hey!” But their hands were full with their next victims.
I ran all the way down the aisle, to the big exit sign on the left. My heartbeat filled my head. My plan was to dropkick through the exit door.
I imagined myself breaking through like some flying gazelle.
I jumped.
I angled my kick.
It might as well have been a brick wall. I fell ass-first to the ground, followed by my head. Of course the door was locked.
Through a muffled mask I heard a sneering scoff.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Above me stood the one wearing a trenchcoat. I could see his piercing gray eyes through his gas mask.
I rolled aside and tried to run by him. He lifted a foot and tripped me without effort.
My forehead bashed into an empty seat. It dazed me.
The blonde leader bent down and grabbed me by the neck, tearing away my scarf and mask.
“No! No!”
A sweet, ether-like smell filled my nostrils. I did my best to hold my breath, but I could already feel myself getting light-headed.
The other hazmats joined in, grabbing me from all sides. Even if I had the strength to struggle, there was no escape now.
Above me, all I could see was the dark theater ceiling, and some of the light behind me from the cinema screen.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“No. Please. Don’t do thi—”
SPLASH.
I was plunged deep into cold, wet chaos. My head was completely underwater.
Gagging. Bubbles. Spinning.
I fought for dear life, dog-paddling like a maniac.
Churning. Freezing. Panic.
For a second, my head popped above the water. I inhaled all the air my lungs could muster. I stared across a vast, violent ocean.
An enormous thirty foot wave came in my direction.
My whole body lifted higher and higher as the wave approached. I did my best to tread water. It seemed to be working.
Then a series of smaller waves arrived and smacked my chest.
SPLASH.
Spinning. Kicking. Flipping.
My view alternated between the pitch dark ocean beneath me, and the moonlit night sky above.
Again I swam to the surface, popped my head out. Ravenously sucked in air.
There was a small lull in the water.
Around me I now registered the other theater goers. Most of them were lying face-down or sinking … but a few were flapping about like me, fighting for their life.
And above all of us, a floating white shape.
It was painfully bright, I had to lift one hand to look at it.
My jaw dropped.
It was the movie screen, hanging completely still in the air. It showed a dark, empty theater. The exact same theater we all occupied moments ago.
It was tremendously high, above all of our heads. There was no way of reaching it.
Then I saw another thirty foot wave come our way. It grazed the bottom of the screen.
I knew what had to be done.
***
One of the theater goers happened to be on a college swim team. She was the first one able to traverse one of the giant waves and climb into the screen.
Once she was up there, she found a firehose in the theater and reeled it out to us like a rope.
One by one, we swam as hard as we could, praying to God we could reach the rope. Everyone’s energy was sapped. Your body can only sustain itself on adrenaline and fear for so long.
By some miracle, five of us got out.
I was the last.
I climbed the rope coughing and vomiting. I had swallowed so much water that my stomach felt swollen.
When I reached the top and they pulled me into the screen, I sobbed. I couldn’t stop crying.
My life had flashed countless times before my eyes. In bubbling, suffocating visions, I saw both my parents and my brother. I saw my highschool graduation. I saw my favorite Christmas from when I was six years old.
I had almost lost all of that. I had lost almost everything.
On the dirty, carpeted theater floor, I lay with my face down, savoring the fact that I now lay on a hard surface. God bless ground. God bless this filthy, popcorn-strewn ground.
Beside me I heard bantering, hugging, the wringing of wet clothes. Sylvester was the second last to be saved, and he was particularly vocal.
“Wooooooaaaaahh!” He came and drummed me on the back, lifted me up. “Oh my god dude! Holy shit!”
I sat on my knees, wiping the tears and snot off my mouth.
Sylvester clapped his hands, held his face and screamed some more.
“Holy shit dude! That was so fucking scary! Like literally people were dying beside us. Like I SAW people die!”
I nodded, shivering in my drenched clothes. “ I know it was—”
“—That was craaaaazy!”
He laughed and stood up, patting everyone on the back. He kept clapping his hands like this was some sports event.
“That was sick! That was siiiiiiiiick!”
He ruffled someone’s hair then ran up to me with an open palm.
“High five dude! WE MADE IT! High five!
“Don’t leave me hangin’ dude!”

Hello, I have been looking everywhere for somewhere to post this because I wanted more opinions, so this is my first time here. I’ve been having some symptoms going on for almost a year now. I was wondering if people on here could help me & I didn’t get any objections to this idea from my other friends, so here we go.
About last year I was talking to a friend who I’m no longer in contact with about some childhood stories, my first day in preschool, a hospital trip, and something that happened during middle school where I heard some sort of very faint voice in my head that didn’t sound exactly like me (I talked to my therapist about it, she suggested it was probably a depression voice since I was hearing thoughts as if I was overthinking or having anxiety.) All three times I started to feel incredibly zoned out, feverish, & it was hard to think. It felt very intense and I’m unsure why, a few days later I was with some friends on VR Chat, I start complaining about how I feel like I’m dreaming, and my friend asks if I’m dissociating, I ask them to clarify if feeling like you’re dreaming can count as dissociation, and they said yes to an extent, I ask my other friends who experience dissociation a lot and they say yes overall.
A few days after that, me and my family go somewhere for my dad’s birthday, it went fine but my mom started talking to me about how I always had a high pain tolerance since I was younger, while we’re eating she asked me if something in my childhood felt normal to me (I won't specify what it was, but it was something medical related to helping me eat) I said yes, so this and my friend asking if I was dissociating made me want to talk to my therapist about it both dissociation and my childhood.
I had a therapy appointment shortly after that and I ask my therapist what counts as dissociation (my other friends have explained it to me, I just never thought to myself “hey I feel like that a lot.”) and she explained to me what does count as dissociation and then I realize “hey I’ve felt like this a lot, maybe even every other day.” I ask her if next time we can talk more about my childhood since I was in and out of hospitals a lot and experienced a lot of other things related to that, and she says yes.
Around now is when I start feeling a pressure in my head a lot, or just a slight pushing feeling in my head feeling like somethings pushing my forehead forward, that or something trying to pull me away.
Next appointment we talk more about my childhood and some other things like middle school, and dissociation, and how I probably do have a lower level of trauma mostly revolving around my medical history, (I don’t recall any abuse or yelling besides my father grabbing my arm sometimes and raising his voice a good amount, he’s better now, just issues with tone.) Like I said earlier I will not specify what it is entirely but up till I was around 3-4 I was horribly sick, vomited a bunch, and had needles poked in me a lot for blood draws, needed a good amount of surgery, was constantly severely swollen most of the time, & suffered a lot of severe pneumonia (though I was still in and out of the hospital a bit till up to 5-6 I believe.)
More context is that I’m in a smallish sized friend group (more than 7-8 people at least.) About 3 people of them were systems, at this point, all 3 said systems told me they suspected me being a system and have been saying a lot of the symptoms seem very suspicious, & my descriptions sound similar to their experiences before they themselves found out they were systems, another 2 systems joined our group later on and they thought the same thing, so that’s 5.
Sometimes when I wake up, I do hear something like “Hey (my name).” quite often (when I hear things it also seems most common when I’m with friends.) I start feeling like I’m losing control of my body, sometimes (an example is I remember playing another game and suddenly I felt incredibly zoned out and I had to “hold on” Is how I’d put it.) Very rarely I do hear things during the day even now (though I thought I’ve been hearing my name get called down as I mentioned earlier, hearing things more commonly I feel like when I’m around others, when nobody did call me in reality, or in a call I hear someone in my head speak sometimes I’ve felt like.) another example is when I was in a voice chat on Discord with my other friends and we were all jokingly arguing about how Maria was said and I swear I heard a faint “Mari-uh.”
There’s not much else, besides constantly feeling a bit disconnected from reality, my therapist doesn’t know too much about the topic of dissociation unfortunately so she can’t be too reliable, my family is trying to look for a psychologist for me, here are some other notes.
-I am genderfluid, sometimes it feels like when I shift genders I feel like my head is melting and there’s a bunch of pressure on it - when I change genders sometimes it feels like it’s triggered by looking at other certain characters from other media (for an example, one makes me feel masculine, one makes me feel feminine, and one makes me feel non binary.)
-Talking to other systems most times triggers my head to flare up, most of the time feeling like something is sitting there (my other friends have suggested it is dissociative barriers.)
I have tried talking to “Maria” a bunch of times before, but it seems more responsive to other people (people saying “hello maria” jokingly, other systems speaking, etc, & flares up at things like me being mean lightheartedly towards my friends, talking to certain other friends, & sometimes when I’m around my dad the pain/pushing feeling flares up.)
-I am very likely autistic, if that is important.
-I have been having elevated blood pressure for over two years now (my therapist has suggested it might be why some symptoms are happening, though I have been on a light dose of medication for a bit, soon to move to a higher dose.)
-I have maybe heard voices when I was younger than 8 though I only feel like that has happened, I’m not too sure about the memory itself.
-I am pretty sure I remember a few instances where I was younger and I have randomly blacked out (mainly during dangerous situations) to wake up somewhere completely different, I have also shut down a lot mentally when I was young and zoned out a bunch - though it is probably due to a bunch of sensory overloads but still thought I’d mention it.
Forever I’ve felt like I’ve gotten these short, small rushing feelings in my head, like something is rushing towards the front of my head (sometimes my vision gets a bit blurry) the short moments of that rushing feeling might’ve been spiking up with how often it has been happening lately.
-Another friend who is a system has suggested things could be active at night because other alters could be feeling safer at that time.
-While I did say "Maria" is more responsive to others rather than me, the pain does sometimes go away when I type out "Please make my head stop hurting" or if I ask for my head to stop hurting. It seems more consistent when I type it out rather than saying it aloud, and if it does work, then I feel like I zone back in a little, even if I didn't feel too zoned out to begin with. It feels more consistent if I use name “Maria” or sometimes other names too.
-I have spoken to my therapist about how my memory of my childhood feels jumbled, as if I can only remember random certain events and small pieces, it still feels like a lot of my memory is missing (an example would be I cannot remember 2nd-4th grade for the most part.) Though my therapist did say missing gaps like that was normal but I’m still not sure.
-If my age is important, I am a 19.
-I’ve always felt a small struggle with who I am as a person, or my identity (I am able to say I am myself, but I’ve always felt a slight struggle at the same time, or I guess an off feeling when seeing myself in a mirror.)
-Sometimes it feels like I’m able to change my emotions as if it’s on command, I’d be breaking down terribly and sometimes I can snap myself into feeling mostly okay, though I am unsure If this is just me repressing those emotions or not.
-The head pain or pushing/pulling feeling in my head sometimes starts when I wake up and is pretty bad for a while.
-Sometimes the pain or pushing/pulling feeling goes away when I'm around others or outside.
I am aware nobody on here can diagnose me as none of you are likely a professional, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to get secondary opinions. I believe that’s all, I just want more opinions. Whoever has read this and made it this far, thank you and please put your own input if you have any thoughts. I am aware I should get a professional for this kind of thing but as I said earlier, my family is currently looking for a psychologist for me, and my therapist doesn’t know too much about these things unfortunately, so I just want more opinions on it to see if I can get more help.

The HRRFY.
It’s the horror movie festival where something genuinely fucked happens every year. And I mean every year.
Like, there are some screenings that unleash hordes of bats while the movie is playing. You're free to leave whenever you want, but the movie will still play for 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Other screenings hire actors to turn at you and scream at some point in the movie. You have no idea when, or how many times.
It's a festival where the word "illegal" can't even begin to describe what happens. You'd only attend if you were a young, stupid edgelord like me who was trying to prove he was hardcore to his friends.
Trust me. DO NOT GO.
You have nothing to prove to anyone. Don't be stupid.
Wait for the lamer film versions to come out streaming. That's what everyone else does. They're neutered edits but they're fine.
All they lack is the real gleaming thing everyone wants to see at HRRFY, but who cares. At least you don’t get traumatized. At least you’re not risking your life.
Anyway, if you really want to know what attending HRRFY is like. I’ll be quick and summarize the one screening I went to. It was the 20th anniversary, and I was lucky enough to get in.
***
I had signed up for the HRRFY mailing list, and joined the subreddit. Through a series of cryptic online emails I solved a sequence of riddles and was entered in the lottery for a HRRFY entry.
Lady Luck took a shine to me, because one day in my mailbox, I received a physical ticket. I had done it.
I was going.
The actual ‘ticket’ was a black USB key that announced the location of the festival the night before (which I won’t disclose here) and it did force me to pay for a very expensive flight in order for me to make it on time.
You see, to prevent getting shut down, the location of HRRFY changes every year. Some years the local police have managed to stop it, but for the most part, authorities have given up. What’s the point of arresting or charging anyone, if all the organizers and attendees actually want to be there?
Upon arrival, I had to pick between three participating theaters.
Based on title alone, I decided to go see “Many Drownings” (directed by Oleksander Gołański.) It was in the theater that was furthest away from the downtown core, which meant it was likely the one where the craziest shit was bound to happen.
That’s what I came here for right?
I lined up a solid two hours before the screening like everyone else. The entire line was jittering, just vibrating with excited twenty-somethings. Rumors flew left and right.
“I heard they’re going to force everyone to take acid.”
“I heard an actor’s gonna run in and shotgun the ceiling.”
“I heard they’re going to disappear like four more people this year. At this screening!”
Each year people disappeared. And each year the same people were ‘found.’ And yes this is the worst part, and why should never, ever, ever go to this event.
Again I will repeat myself. DO NOT GO.
No one has ever truly gone 'missing' at HRRFY in any legal or physical sense, because every missing person always shows up a day later, convinced that they are fine—refusing to elaborate further.
There are some small support groups for people who have family members who had gone to HRRFY, and came back irrevocably changed after being ‘found.’
These few unlucky people lose all semblance of personality. They don’t want interviews, or help, or therapy, or contact of any kind. And they never, ever want to talk about what they saw.
Some HRRFY fans think that these ‘found’ people were body-snatched. Cloned in a lab or replaced by a cyborg, or something stupid like that.
But I think there’s a far simpler explanation. The ‘found’ are still the same people. They're just terrified. They got shaken by something that shattered the foundation of their mind, body and soul. They got too scared.
They got HRRFY’d.
***
I should mention I had a cough the day I went. And I was worried my sickly appearance might give me trouble at the airport.
So I invested in an intense double N95 mask which I wore for the whole flight, and continued to wear even at the screening of “Many Drownings.”
It made my face hot and uncomfortable, but it still didn’t stop me from yelling “excuse me, excuse me!” as I ran to snag a seat in the back of the theater.
I always preferred sitting in the far back. You get a good view of the whole screen, and a good view of the whole audience.
Beside me sat a big dude named Sylvester, who apparently flew all the way from Australia to attend HRRFY.
“Worth the full Seventeen hours mate! It’s gonna be epic!” he dropped a massive camping backpack beside me, which I assume contained all of his luggage.
The lights dimmed, and the production company logos started to play.
The whispering, giggling and suspense all stacked upon each other to create an electric feeling in the air. I was giddy. It's like the entire audience was embarking on a massive roller coaster.
The anticipation was the best part for sure. It might have been the only good part.
Then the movie started.
It was a wide shot of a gray, stormy sea. The waves were massive, and the thunderclouds were looming. There was no land visible in any direction.
All we could hear was the sound of waves foaming, swirling, and crashing over and over. Lightning crackled. Rain poured. The camera held perfectly still over this storm as if it was mounted on a perfectly hovering drone. A drone so resilient that it didn’t waver at all.
I thought it had to be CGI.
The shot held like this for the next few moments. Everyone sat glued to their seats. Everyone was thinking the same thing.
What’s going to happen? How are they going to scare us?
People chuckled. People cheered. People wanted to tease whatever was going to happen—to happen already.
But nothing did.
Five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes went by without any change. People started snoring.
I looked beside me and saw that Sylvester—the most excited audience member of them all—had fallen totally asleep. The jet lag must’ve gotten to him.
Then I peered beyond the rest of the audience members and saw other people snoozing too. Heads were keeled over, some people were curled in their seats, some had even spilled out into the aisle and were dozing on the floor.
I looked above the bright screen, at the huge vents in the corner of the theater. I saw a faint white gas emerging from the vents.
Holy shit. What have we been breathing? I tightened the straps on my N95 mask, and made my breathing shallower.
The gas must have been pumping since the opening credits—because how else would an audience of two hundred people all fall asleep?
As I moved my hand through the air in front of me, I could sense the thickness. It was definitely hazier than usual. I took the scarf off my neck and wrapped it around my mouth as well.
Then I spotted movement in front of the screen.
It was a tall blonde man, wearing a black trenchcoat and military-grade gas mask. Beside him arrived six hazmat suits who started pointing at various audience members.
I slunk in my chair, pretending to sleep like everyone else.
Two hazmats walked over to the front row and picked out a sleeping guy in flannel. They lifted flannel up, under the armpits and by his ankles, carrying him between them both like a hammock.
The hazmats walked back up to the stage, where the blonde leader inspected the flannel man and tapped his head. Something was approved?
The hazmats began to swing flannel back and forth, as if they were getting ready to toss him. Despite their masks, I could hear a very muffled, very distant countdown.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One…”
The flannel audience member was tossed into the screen.
I literally watched him fly into the image of stormy waves … andfallinto them. The flannel man sank into the gray water like a rock, leaving a few bubbles and foam. A wave came crashing down. All trace of him was gone.
What the fuck.
All six hazmats began grabbing more audience members with much more urgency. It became a minute-long process where they would pick the sleeping person up, bring them beside the screen, and then swing-toss them into it.
How was this possible?
I turned slightly to see if there was a projector above me, and realized there was none. Which meant maybe there was no screen on stage.
Which meant … maybe it was a portal?
I tried to wake Sylvester by shaking him. I pinched his leg and arm a bunch.
He was out cold.
The hazmats started grabbing audience members from the middle rows now. They were emptying the whole theater. What the hell was I supposed to do?
I waited until they grabbed another batch, only a few rows down from me. When all hazmats had their backs turned—I broke into a run.
With my left arm, I tightly gripped my mask and scarf against my face, while my right arm vaulted me over seat after seat.
I had never breathed so hard—through so much fabric—in my life.
The hazmats all turned to me. “Hey! Hey!” But their hands were full with their next victims.
I ran all the way down the aisle, to the big exit sign on the left. My heartbeat filled my head. My plan was to dropkick through the exit door.
I imagined myself breaking through like some flying gazelle.
I jumped.
I angled my kick.
It might as well have been a brick wall. I fell ass-first to the ground, followed by my head. Of course the door was locked.
Through a muffled mask I heard a sneering scoff.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Above me stood the one wearing a trenchcoat. I could see his piercing gray eyes through his gas mask.
I rolled aside and tried to run by him. He lifted a foot and tripped me without effort.
My forehead bashed into an empty seat. It dazed me.
The blonde leader bent down and grabbed me by the neck, tearing away my scarf and mask.
“No! No!”
A sweet, ether-like smell filled my nostrils. I did my best to hold my breath, but I could already feel myself getting light-headed.
The other hazmats joined in, grabbing me from all sides. Even if I had the strength to struggle, there was no escape now.
Above me, all I could see was the dark theater ceiling, and some of the light behind me from the cinema screen.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“No. Please. Don’t do thi—”
SPLASH.
I was plunged deep into cold, wet chaos. My head was completely underwater.
Gagging. Bubbles. Spinning.
I fought for dear life, dog-paddling like a maniac.
Churning. Freezing. Panic.
For a second, my head popped above the water. I inhaled all the air my lungs could muster. I stared across a vast, violent ocean.
An enormous thirty foot wave came in my direction.
My whole body lifted higher and higher as the wave approached. I did my best to tread water. It seemed to be working.
Then a series of smaller waves arrived and smacked my chest.
SPLASH.
Spinning. Kicking. Flipping.
My view alternated between the pitch dark ocean beneath me, and the moonlit night sky above.
Again I swam to the surface, popped my head out. Ravenously sucked in air.
There was a small lull in the water.
Around me I now registered the other theater goers. Most of them were lying face-down or sinking … but a few were flapping about like me, fighting for their life.
And above all of us, a floating white shape.
It was painfully bright, I had to lift one hand to look at it.
My jaw dropped.
It was the movie screen, hanging completely still in the air. It showed a dark, empty theater. The exact same theater we all occupied moments ago.
It was tremendously high, above all of our heads. There was no way of reaching it.
Then I saw another thirty foot wave come our way. It grazed the bottom of the screen.
I knew what had to be done.
***
One of the theater goers happened to be on a college swim team. She was the first one able to traverse one of the giant waves and climb into the screen.
Once she was up there, she found a firehose in the theater and reeled it out to us like a rope.
One by one, we swam as hard as we could, praying to God we could reach the rope. Everyone’s energy was sapped. Your body can only sustain itself on adrenaline and fear for so long.
By some miracle, five of us got out.
I was the last.
I climbed the rope coughing and vomiting. I had swallowed so much water that my stomach felt swollen.
When I reached the top and they pulled me into the screen, I sobbed. I couldn’t stop crying.
My life had flashed countless times before my eyes. In bubbling, suffocating visions, I saw both my parents and my brother. I saw my highschool graduation. I saw my favorite Christmas from when I was six years old.
I had almost lost all of that. I had lost almost everything.
On the dirty, carpeted theater floor, I lay with my face down, savoring the fact that I now lay on a hard surface. God bless ground. God bless this filthy, popcorn-strewn ground.
Beside me I heard bantering, hugging, the wringing of wet clothes. Sylvester was the second last to be saved, and he was particularly vocal.
“Wooooooaaaaahh!” He came and drummed me on the back, lifted me up. “Oh my god dude! Holy shit!”
I sat on my knees, wiping the tears and snot off my mouth.
Sylvester clapped his hands, held his face and screamed some more.
“Holy shit dude! That was so fucking scary! Like literally people were dying beside us. Like I SAW people die!”
I nodded, shivering in my drenched clothes. “ I know it was—”
“—That was craaaaazy!”
He laughed and stood up, patting everyone on the back. He kept clapping his hands like this was some sports event.
“That was sick! That was siiiiiiiiick!”
He ruffled someone’s hair then ran up to me with an open palm.
“High five dude! WE MADE IT! High five!
“Don’t leave me hangin’ dude!”

The HRRFY.
It’s the horror movie festival where something genuinely fucked happens every year. And I mean every year.
Like, there are some screenings that unleash hordes of bats while the movie is playing. You're free to leave whenever you want, but the movie will still play for 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Other screenings hire actors to turn at you and scream at some point in the movie. You have no idea when, or how many times.
It's a festival where the word "illegal" can't even begin to describe what happens. You'd only attend if you were a young, stupid edgelord like me who was trying to prove he was hardcore to his friends.
Trust me. DO NOT GO.
You have nothing to prove to anyone. Don't be stupid.
Wait for the lamer film versions to come out streaming. That's what everyone else does. They're neutered edits but they're fine.
All they lack is the real gleaming thing everyone wants to see at HRRFY, but who cares. At least you don’t get traumatized. At least you’re not risking your life.
Anyway, if you really want to know what attending HRRFY is like. I’ll be quick and summarize the one screening I went to. It was the 20th anniversary, and I was lucky enough to get in.
***
I had signed up for the HRRFY mailing list, and joined the subreddit. Through a series of cryptic online emails I solved a sequence of riddles and was entered in the lottery for a HRRFY entry.
Lady Luck took a shine to me, because one day in my mailbox, I received a physical ticket. I had done it.
I was going.
The actual ‘ticket’ was a black USB key that announced the location of the festival the night before (which I won’t disclose here) and it did force me to pay for a very expensive flight in order for me to make it on time.
You see, to prevent getting shut down, the location of HRRFY changes every year. Some years the local police have managed to stop it, but for the most part, authorities have given up. What’s the point of arresting or charging anyone, if all the organizers and attendees actually want to be there?
Upon arrival, I had to pick between three participating theaters.
Based on title alone, I decided to go see “Many Drownings” (directed by Oleksander Gołański.) It was in the theater that was furthest away from the downtown core, which meant it was likely the one where the craziest shit was bound to happen.
That’s what I came here for right?
I lined up a solid two hours before the screening like everyone else. The entire line was jittering, just vibrating with excited twenty-somethings. Rumors flew left and right.
“I heard they’re going to force everyone to take acid.”
“I heard an actor’s gonna run in and shotgun the ceiling.”
“I heard they’re going to disappear like four more people this year. At this screening!”
Each year people disappeared. And each year the same people were ‘found.’ And yes this is the worst part, and why should never, ever, ever go to this event.
Again I will repeat myself. DO NOT GO.
No one has ever truly gone 'missing' at HRRFY in any legal or physical sense, because every missing person always shows up a day later, convinced that they are fine—refusing to elaborate further.
There are some small support groups for people who have family members who had gone to HRRFY, and came back irrevocably changed after being ‘found.’
These few unlucky people lose all semblance of personality. They don’t want interviews, or help, or therapy, or contact of any kind. And they never, ever want to talk about what they saw.
Some HRRFY fans think that these ‘found’ people were body-snatched. Cloned in a lab or replaced by a cyborg, or something stupid like that.
But I think there’s a far simpler explanation. The ‘found’ are still the same people. They're just terrified. They got shaken by something that shattered the foundation of their mind, body and soul. They got too scared.
They got HRRFY’d.
***
I should mention I had a cough the day I went. And I was worried my sickly appearance might give me trouble at the airport.
So I invested in an intense double N95 mask which I wore for the whole flight, and continued to wear even at the screening of “Many Drownings.”
It made my face hot and uncomfortable, but it still didn’t stop me from yelling “excuse me, excuse me!” as I ran to snag a seat in the back of the theater.
I always preferred sitting in the far back. You get a good view of the whole screen, and a good view of the whole audience.
Beside me sat a big dude named Sylvester, who apparently flew all the way from Australia to attend HRRFY.
“Worth the full Seventeen hours mate! It’s gonna be epic!” he dropped a massive camping backpack beside me, which I assume contained all of his luggage.
The lights dimmed, and the production company logos started to play.
The whispering, giggling and suspense all stacked upon each other to create an electric feeling in the air. I was giddy. It's like the entire audience was embarking on a massive roller coaster.
The anticipation was the best part for sure. It might have been the only good part.
Then the movie started.
It was a wide shot of a gray, stormy sea. The waves were massive, and the thunderclouds were looming. There was no land visible in any direction.
All we could hear was the sound of waves foaming, swirling, and crashing over and over. Lightning crackled. Rain poured. The camera held perfectly still over this storm as if it was mounted on a perfectly hovering drone. A drone so resilient that it didn’t waver at all.
I thought it had to be CGI.
The shot held like this for the next few moments. Everyone sat glued to their seats. Everyone was thinking the same thing.
What’s going to happen? How are they going to scare us?
People chuckled. People cheered. People wanted to tease whatever was going to happen—to happen already.
But nothing did.
Five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes went by without any change. People started snoring.
I looked beside me and saw that Sylvester—the most excited audience member of them all—had fallen totally asleep. The jet lag must’ve gotten to him.
Then I peered beyond the rest of the audience members and saw other people snoozing too. Heads were keeled over, some people were curled in their seats, some had even spilled out into the aisle and were dozing on the floor.
I looked above the bright screen, at the huge vents in the corner of the theater. I saw a faint white gas emerging from the vents.
Holy shit. What have we been breathing? I tightened the straps on my N95 mask, and made my breathing shallower.
The gas must have been pumping since the opening credits—because how else would an audience of two hundred people all fall asleep?
As I moved my hand through the air in front of me, I could sense the thickness. It was definitely hazier than usual. I took the scarf off my neck and wrapped it around my mouth as well.
Then I spotted movement in front of the screen.
It was a tall blonde man, wearing a black trenchcoat and military-grade gas mask. Beside him arrived six hazmat suits who started pointing at various audience members.
I slunk in my chair, pretending to sleep like everyone else.
Two hazmats walked over to the front row and picked out a sleeping guy in flannel. They lifted flannel up, under the armpits and by his ankles, carrying him between them both like a hammock.
The hazmats walked back up to the stage, where the blonde leader inspected the flannel man and tapped his head. Something was approved?
The hazmats began to swing flannel back and forth, as if they were getting ready to toss him. Despite their masks, I could hear a very muffled, very distant countdown.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One…”
The flannel audience member was tossed into the screen.
I literally watched him fly into the image of stormy waves … andfallinto them. The flannel man sank into the gray water like a rock, leaving a few bubbles and foam. A wave came crashing down. All trace of him was gone.
What the fuck.
All six hazmats began grabbing more audience members with much more urgency. It became a minute-long process where they would pick the sleeping person up, bring them beside the screen, and then swing-toss them into it.
How was this possible?
I turned slightly to see if there was a projector above me, and realized there was none. Which meant maybe there was no screen on stage.
Which meant … maybe it was a portal?
I tried to wake Sylvester by shaking him. I pinched his leg and arm a bunch.
He was out cold.
The hazmats started grabbing audience members from the middle rows now. They were emptying the whole theater. What the hell was I supposed to do?
I waited until they grabbed another batch, only a few rows down from me. When all hazmats had their backs turned—I broke into a run.
With my left arm, I tightly gripped my mask and scarf against my face, while my right arm vaulted me over seat after seat.
I had never breathed so hard—through so much fabric—in my life.
The hazmats all turned to me. “Hey! Hey!” But their hands were full with their next victims.
I ran all the way down the aisle, to the big exit sign on the left. My heartbeat filled my head. My plan was to dropkick through the exit door.
I imagined myself breaking through like some flying gazelle.
I jumped.
I angled my kick.
It might as well have been a brick wall. I fell ass-first to the ground, followed by my head. Of course the door was locked.
Through a muffled mask I heard a sneering scoff.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Above me stood the one wearing a trenchcoat. I could see his piercing gray eyes through his gas mask.
I rolled aside and tried to run by him. He lifted a foot and tripped me without effort.
My forehead bashed into an empty seat. It dazed me.
The blonde leader bent down and grabbed me by the neck, tearing away my scarf and mask.
“No! No!”
A sweet, ether-like smell filled my nostrils. I did my best to hold my breath, but I could already feel myself getting light-headed.
The other hazmats joined in, grabbing me from all sides. Even if I had the strength to struggle, there was no escape now.
Above me, all I could see was the dark theater ceiling, and some of the light behind me from the cinema screen.
“Three…”
“Two…”
“No. Please. Don’t do thi—”
SPLASH.
I was plunged deep into cold, wet chaos. My head was completely underwater.
Gagging. Bubbles. Spinning.
I fought for dear life, dog-paddling like a maniac.
Churning. Freezing. Panic.
For a second, my head popped above the water. I inhaled all the air my lungs could muster. I stared across a vast, violent ocean.
An enormous thirty foot wave came in my direction.
My whole body lifted higher and higher as the wave approached. I did my best to tread water. It seemed to be working.
Then a series of smaller waves arrived and smacked my chest.
SPLASH.
Spinning. Kicking. Flipping.
My view alternated between the pitch dark ocean beneath me, and the moonlit night sky above.
Again I swam to the surface, popped my head out. Ravenously sucked in air.
There was a small lull in the water.
Around me I now registered the other theater goers. Most of them were lying face-down or sinking … but a few were flapping about like me, fighting for their life.
And above all of us, a floating white shape.
It was painfully bright, I had to lift one hand to look at it.
My jaw dropped.
It was the movie screen, hanging completely still in the air. It showed a dark, empty theater. The exact same theater we all occupied moments ago.
It was tremendously high, above all of our heads. There was no way of reaching it.
Then I saw another thirty foot wave come our way. It grazed the bottom of the screen.
I knew what had to be done.
***
One of the theater goers happened to be on a college swim team. She was the first one able to traverse one of the giant waves and climb into the screen.
Once she was up there, she found a firehose in the theater and reeled it out to us like a rope.
One by one, we swam as hard as we could, praying to God we could reach the rope. Everyone’s energy was sapped. Your body can only sustain itself on adrenaline and fear for so long.
By some miracle, five of us got out.
I was the last.
I climbed the rope coughing and vomiting. I had swallowed so much water that my stomach felt swollen.
When I reached the top and they pulled me into the screen, I sobbed. I couldn’t stop crying.
My life had flashed countless times before my eyes. In bubbling, suffocating visions, I saw both my parents and my brother. I saw my highschool graduation. I saw my favorite Christmas from when I was six years old.
I had almost lost all of that. I had lost almost everything.
On the dirty, carpeted theater floor, I lay with my face down, savoring the fact that I now lay on a hard surface. God bless ground. God bless this filthy, popcorn-strewn ground.
Beside me I heard bantering, hugging, the wringing of wet clothes. Sylvester was the second last to be saved, and he was particularly vocal.
“Wooooooaaaaahh!” He came and drummed me on the back, lifted me up. “Oh my god dude! Holy shit!”
I sat on my knees, wiping the tears and snot off my mouth.
Sylvester clapped his hands, held his face and screamed some more.
“Holy shit dude! That was so fucking scary! Like literally people were dying beside us. Like I SAW people die!”
I nodded, shivering in my drenched clothes. “ I know it was—”
“—That was craaaaazy!”
He laughed and stood up, patting everyone on the back. He kept clapping his hands like this was some sports event.
“That was sick! That was siiiiiiiiick!”
He ruffled someone’s hair then ran up to me with an open palm.
“High five dude! WE MADE IT! High five!
“Don’t leave me hangin’ dude!”

I got to see the original show as a kid and in 2021 when recovering from a surgery, they put the show on Netflix and it was my first time, with an adult brain, I got to watch it through its entirety. I had a profound reaction, as I imagine many have had at various times of life, and since have been reengaged with the universe! (Only ever watched Korra after this first rewatch and a few times since, never caught her show when it aired!)
I haven’t read a book cover to cover in, more years than I’d like to maybe admit, but just- wow. Honestly a great read, I was basically watching the content unfold in my head.
I had to drop this somewhere as I am DYING TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH SOMEONE~ so for anyone reading, SPOILERS FROM THIS POINT FOREWORD⚠️
First of all and I suppose the obvious The level of violence witnessed was a step above from the shows and which, ofc the ‘kids show’ couldn’t have anything graphic, but I wasn’t prepared for the clever paths to death. Loved it though! From the ice spike through the chest, to the torturous ways of the Yellow Necks and Jianzhu, to the brutal death of Xu Ping An.
THE DEATHS OF KELSANG AND LEK WERE THE BIGGEST MF HITS. Ugh gosh reading Lek’s drop to the ground was heartbreaking. It all happens so fast, his burial is immediate. Right on the ‘you’ll fit out’ from Rangi.
SPEAKING OF- realizing it was her top knot after rereading the sentence that it was attached to the note was also DEVASTATING
YUN AT THE END LIKE A DEVIOUS BASTARD
What’s great is I preemptively bought the second novel so I’m jumping right in to the next 😆
Excited for this one and also getting to know Yangchen after!
Also I love the relationship with Rangi and Kyoshi, genuinely think they balance each other well (besides being each others weakness lol)

So I've had a few games today In particular where I hard stomp lane but other lanes aren't doing well so when I do try and side lane pressure I just get 3 maned off repeat. Do you guys typically just babysit after mid game when ahead or do you focus on pushing more when you have vision on the enemy team. I know that game state dictates you to be able to do both but how often are you able to side lane. I've been getting tilted because in my head I should be able to push but I know that's not the correct way to play if I have zero vision on the enemy. I run ignite in most matchups unless I'm against a tank or ranged top.

Hi all, hope you're doing well out there.
I've done some very amateur woodworking in the past, but all my projects were primarily completed with hand tools. However I've been wanting to get back into the hobby, and start learning a bit more. For instance, I'd really love to make my own wooden storage chests/boxes or perhaps a really simple bedframe once I've gotten some more experience under my belt.
However in researching a lot of the projects I want to do, almost ALL of them mention using a table saw at one point or another. And that's presenting a problem.
There's two big things preventing me from getting a table saw: 1) My apartment is tiny as hell, and there's just simply nowhere for me to keep said saw, let alone the space to use it. And 2) I don't feel comfortable using a table saw that doesn't have a Sawstop, and unfortunately I just can't afford that sort of expense right now. I know, it's 100% worth it, and some day I'll save up to get one, but it's just not in the cards at the moment.
So do I have any other options for more simple projects like the ones mentioned above? I'm still trying to learn as much as I can, as my previous woodworking experience was mostly limited to bowyer work (traditional English longbows and American flatbows, for the most part) which I could do with just a few hand tools, so it feels like I'm in a bit over my head with all this.

Started talking to this guy online about a month ago. Flirted with me a ton, said he loved me even, texted me every day for 2 weeks or so. We voiced a bit. Then he slowly started to reply less and less. When I asked him about it at first, he had the flu and was pretty sick home in bed for a whole week.. ...then he said before he met me he checked his phone every 3 days so he didnt like the pressure.. shortly after that he said "Look, I am really in my head right now. I need some time to get my head on straight. I'm not ghosting you. We have a genuine connection that I cant find anywhere else."
I should note he is a man of few words so he doesn't normally say a lot. Furthermore, he has some significant* trauma so it's not entirely far fetched that maybe he does just need time ...? Or am I being very naive...?
This one hurts for some reason. I feel physical pain in chest almost non stop. So if someone could help me get rid of that, please advise..

Tl;dr: My gf and I are staying in our college town during the summer where it’s known to be a dead zone for college students since everyone goes home, and I’m insecure about her constantly needing new friends and I don’t really feel the need to make new friends.
My gf and I are going to college in a town where during the summer months the town is completely dead as most people go home. She almost went home too until she got a new job that would help her in her major and look good on a resume. She’s really sad about not going home our friends all went home and she’s been very insecure about not having enough friends. It got to the point where right before summer me, her, and 2 of our last remaining friends right before they left were hanging out and almost the entire time she complained and was sad about not having enough friends. It got to the point where all of us were half jokingly asking if she liked being with us and it just was a little uncomfortable to be complaining about a lack of friends while around friends.
I stayed in town because I like my own space and enjoy being independent something I’d lose if I went home. But a bigger reason is that when she decided to stay I didn’t want her to feel all alone. I didn’t pressure her one way or the other when it came to staying in town in fact I encouraged her to go home and forget about the job at times since she seemed very sad about not seeing family and old friends. So I wasn’t worried about being alone I have family close by and I haven’t had the best luck socializing and haven’t really found my people and I’m fine with that I enjoy my own company. We both knew that over the summer at least in the beginning we’d be our only source of socializing and would rely on each other for that.
She was a lot more concerned about that than I was it hurts a little to hear that you’re not enough socially for your partner but obviously people need more than one friend lol. I want more friends too but I don’t get a long with a lot of the men in my area and I don’t feel the need to socialize due to bad experiences and introversion/social anxiety. In my mind I’m 70% fine with just hanging out with my gf or being on my own. She’s definitely not and that’s ok and she’s been trying to make friends at work and that’s great I’m happy for her but I worry it’s gotten to an obsessive extent it’s the only thing that occupies her mind besides work it makes me feel insecure I felt like this before summer but now 10x worse the feeling that she only hangs out with me because I want to hang out with her and having me is better than no one.
Just today we had plans to make dinner after our work but without telling me she instead went to a coworkers house and had a double feature movie night. I was sad because I specifically had a 2 hour chunk taken out of my schedule today for dinner and she just forgot about it. Like I’m conflicted it’s definitely good that she’s making friends but it gets to the point where she changes or abandons or forgets plans we have to be with people she doesn’t know and I’m ok with that sometimes but it’s so much and the worst part is she usually doesn’t even give me a heads up and if she does it’s right before our plans.
(Conclusion) All in all sorry for the long post but I’m just feeling insecure I know it’s probably selfishness but at the same time during the school year I didn’t care if she went out with friends she just didn’t seem so obsessive about it and I’m worried I’m just not going to hangout with her much at all during the summer and when we do it’s just because she doesn’t have anyone to hangout with that she would drop our plans to be with potential friends in a second. I’m glad my other friends said something that night so I didn’t feel like I was crazy or controlling to think that. I want her to have friends but I’m just feeling insecure how do I approach this insecurity and get over it?

Tl;dr: My gf and I are staying in our college town during the summer where it’s known to be a dead zone for college students since everyone goes home, and I’m insecure about her constantly needing new friends and I don’t really feel the need to make new friends.
My gf and I are going to college in a town where during the summer months the town is completely dead as most people go home. She almost went home too until she got a new job that would help her in her major and look good on a resume. She’s really sad about not going home our friends all went home and she’s been very insecure about not having enough friends. It got to the point where right before summer me, her, and 2 of our last remaining friends right before they left were hanging out and almost the entire time she complained and was sad about not having enough friends. It got to the point where all of us were half jokingly asking if she liked being with us and it just was a little uncomfortable to be complaining about a lack of friends while around friends.
I stayed in town because I like my own space and enjoy being independent something I’d lose if I went home. But a bigger reason is that when she decided to stay I didn’t want her to feel all alone. I didn’t pressure her one way or the other when it came to staying in town in fact I encouraged her to go home and forget about the job at times since she seemed very sad about not seeing family and old friends. So I wasn’t worried about being alone I have family close by and I haven’t had the best luck socializing and haven’t really found my people and I’m fine with that I enjoy my own company. We both knew that over the summer at least in the beginning we’d be our only source of socializing and would rely on each other for that.
She was a lot more concerned about that than I was it hurts a little to hear that you’re not enough socially for your partner but obviously people need more than one friend lol. I want more friends too but I don’t get a long with a lot of the men in my area and I don’t feel the need to socialize due to bad experiences and introversion/social anxiety. In my mind I’m 70% fine with just hanging out with my gf or being on my own. She’s definitely not and that’s ok and she’s been trying to make friends at work and that’s great I’m happy for her but I worry it’s gotten to an obsessive extent it’s the only thing that occupies her mind besides work it makes me feel insecure I felt like this before summer but now 10x worse the feeling that she only hangs out with me because I want to hang out with her and having me is better than no one.
Just today we had plans to make dinner after our work but without telling me she instead went to a coworkers house and had a double feature movie night. I was sad because I specifically had a 2 hour chunk taken out of my schedule today for dinner and she just forgot about it. Like I’m conflicted it’s definitely good that she’s making friends but it gets to the point where she changes or abandons or forgets plans we have to be with people she doesn’t know and I’m ok with that sometimes but it’s so much and the worst part is she usually doesn’t even give me a heads up and if she does it’s right before our plans.
(Conclusion) All in all sorry for the long post but I’m just feeling insecure I know it’s probably selfishness but at the same time during the school year I didn’t care if she went out with friends she just didn’t seem so obsessive about it and I’m worried I’m just not going to hangout with her much at all during the summer and when we do it’s just because she doesn’t have anyone to hangout with that she would drop our plans to be with potential friends in a second. I’m glad my other friends said something that night so I didn’t feel like I was crazy or controlling to think that. I want her to have friends but I’m just feeling insecure how do I approach this insecurity and get over it?