Hi everyone,
I am asking this question in good faith with no expectations.
Posting from a throwaway account since it is more of a vent/genuine question. I have been in healthcare for over 7 years now. But I moved to UK a year and a half ago.
To say I was unaware of the situation with NHS was understatement. I was seriously so baffled with the wait times and how long it takes from a patient to reach us (I'm a Physio) from the GP and if needed to Ortho. I know patient's get frustrated and I totally sympathize with their pain and I can only imagine how difficult life would be for them.
But sometimes some patient are so blatantly rude, I just feel like I don't want to work in healthcare anymore. Like today, a patient wanted injection for his pain. Objectively, he needs more strengthening and injection is going to be a temporary benefit. I had 30 mins with the patient and from the get go he was asking for an injection when I gave a whole explanation about his condition and what would benefit. Patient went on an accusatory rant about millions being paid into NHS and we fool them. Agreed it does seem like that but am I to blame for it? Shouldn't that be taken up to the government?
I don't know I feel so dejected sometimes. It just takes one person to ruin your day when you get patient's who are getting so much stronger and better in their life and are genuinely happy with the service and advice provided.
Sorry for the rant.

Flying home as I write this.
First don’t sweat the weather in May. We had what looked like 5 days of rain but we didn’t get a drop of rain until the last day. Got cloudy and looked like it might rain here and there but for the most part it was very pleasant weather. Don’t sweat it but pack some options.
Cash/credit. Almost didn’t need a euro. Paid with Apple Pay everywhere - taxis, metro, sites, restaurants, etc. one exception was the artists near sacre couer only took cash. Never needed or asked for a PIN.
Sites. Did all the major sites. Each and everyone now has heavy duty security, metal detectors and even body scanners. This makes it a very slow process to get in. Plan for that.
Arc de triumph was particularly painful when we were there. Eiffel Tower is also very painful due to the queueing at the elevators. Took us 2 hours minimum to get to top and back down. Louvre did a mad dash for the Mona Lisa at 9am and that worked out well with pretty small crowds. Then got to relax and enjoy the rest of the museum.
Funny - by the Eiffel tour you can go see the Olympic countdown clock. Ironically it was showing 101 days to the games when it was only supposed to be 67. Got a picture. It even made the news. Dummies. Makes me question how prepared they are for the Olympics. Hopefully they don’t think they have an extra month of prep time :)
Olympics prep - didn’t impact us in the least. Nothing we wanted to do was blocked by it.
Safety - no issues. Felt perfectly safe late at night, on the metro, Ubers, etc. only saw one clipboard lady at the Eiffel Tower and just walked away.
Trip highlight - Le Calife dinner cruise was amazing. I’ve been to Paris several times before but never did this due to seeming like a tourist trap - which I think most are. This one gets it right. It’s high end food and service on a boat. It was awesome - not cheap though. We were very happy with our front of boat seats. Great way to end the trip. Was from 8pm to almost 11pm.
St. Chapelle was an amazing first for me. Pretty incredible and worth the body scan to get in.
Ubemetro - took the metro to/from sacre couer just to let my son have the experience - it’s very easy to buy tickets and use. Otherwise mostly walked or did Ubers which were quick and plentiful. Official taxi from Cdg to Paris was easy to find - the trip into the city however was very painful and took close to 1.5 hours with the morning traffic.
Food - too much to report. We didn’t have a bad meal anywhere and refreshing to have good service regardless of price.
Recommend an after dinner stroll to a gelato shop every night.
CDG - I was really sweating coming home today with some kind of strike going on which mostly impacted the trains but also some airport staff. Showed up 3+ hours early to CDG but breezed thru security and passport check in under 30mins. Give yourself time but the horror stories seem overblown.
Edit:
Language - almost everyone we came across spoke English to a good degree. We tried our best with French but usually switched to English when they heard our attempts :). I do think a merci here and there is appreciated. We did have one taxi driver with very limited English but we made it work.
Holidays - many French holidays in May. We were there for Pentecost and whit Monday - both seems to be a non event for us and nothing we came across was closed due to this. So hard to tell which holidays are impactful or not for tourists, but this wasn’t one of them.

My boyfriend(28) and I(25) had a huge fight almost a month ago. Masakit mga nasabi niya sa akin. Sobrang sakit. He told me that he used me to get over sa ex niya and that hindi ko deserved mabigyan ng efforts sa relationship namin. Yong mga words na nagamit sobrang below the belt din. For instance, he told me na ginawa niya akong pampalipas oras niya. Out of pettiness, after ng away namin, i messaged his family. Hindi pa nila ako nameet but aware sila na may jowa na anak nila. I introduced myself nicely and told them about what happened. I also told them na he’s a good man pa rin sa akin despite sa mga pain na nacause niya. Maayos naman jowa ko pero he’s merciless kapag galit. Nakakapagsabi siya ng mga bagay that intentionally could hurt me.
We were able to talk about our issues and naging maayos naman kami. A part of me says na dapat inamin ko yong ginawa ko kaso hindi ko na ginawa and inisip ko na lang na baka hindi nila pinansin or nakita msg ko since wala naman akong reply ka nakuha at all sa family niya and niremove ko yong msg ko.
Nalaman ng jowa ko and he was mad. Pinagmumura niya ako sa chat. He didn’t ask me kung bakit ko ginawa yon, instead he told me na ayaw niya na. I asked him to calm down and pag usapan namin ng maayos kaso ayaw niya. I remember isang episode sa expecially for you when tyang amy said na kapag nag aaway sila ng asawa niya, sa mother in law niya siya nagsasabi and may explanation siya regarding doon. Tho alam ko naman na may kagagahan ako sa nagawa ko. Hindi rin ako sure kung nabasa ba msg ko or since i removed it naman agad or nakita na lang na naremove msg.
ABYG kaso nagsumbong ako sa parents niya about our fight?

Written by: NaTarsha Harris
What is trauma? In simple terms, according to the American Psychological Association (APA), “Trauma is an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident, rape, or natural disaster”. While this is an acceptable answer, I want an in-depth explanation that describes trauma in detail. So, again, what is trauma? The question may be simple but the answer is complex. Missouri’s Early Care & Education Connections explains that, [“… trauma results from an event, series of events, or set of circumstances that is experienced by an individual as physically or emotionally harmful or threatening and that can have lasting adverse effects on the individual’s functioning and physical, social, emotional well-being”]. Trauma is the result caused by a devastating experience. Many times, this result (trauma) prevents the victim from being able to live a healthy and productive life. Sometimes, unfortunately, the torment of the trauma lasts a lifetime. On the other hand, thankfully, the victim is able to overcome the trauma.
— A Broader Understanding Of Trauma —
Trauma consists of three principle categories:

1. Acute trauma such as experiencing a car accident
   
2. Chronic trauma such as being raised by verbally abusive parents, and
   
3. Complex trauma such as a child who is abused at home, bullied in school, and disregarded by other people who are supposed to help keep them safe (i.e. teachers, counselors, other family members, friends and social workers) (Missouri’s Early Care & Education Connections).
   

Can you personally identify with any one of these three principle categories of trauma? Does the category of trauma that you identify with come from childhood, adulthood or both?
— The Trauma Most Familiar To Me —
I personally identify with complex trauma although the three examples provided in each category above are a few of the traumatic events I’ve directly experienced. The reason why, for me, it’s not acute trauma or chronic trauma is because it wasn’t just the car accident and it wasn’t just the verbal abuse at home. It was also the overall neglect, rejection, bullying, verbal abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse and psychological abuse, among other things. It was me being left alone, throughout the majority of my childhood, with no one to defend or protect me — not at home, school, public places, courtrooms, counselor’s offices or anywhere else. I’ve spent the majority of my adulthood encountering most of the same traumatic experiences I suffered as a child. On my quest to understand why my childhood was the way it was, I remember hearing mention of ‘generational curses’. My understanding of ‘generational curses’ is that it’s a spiritual battle that’s passed from one generation to the next. So, on a more pragmatic note, my question is:
— Is Emotional And Psychological Trauma Intergenerational? —
What does ‘intergenerational’ mean? According to the Oxford Learner’s Dictionaries, ‘intergenerational’ means, “including or involving people of different generations or age groups”. Now, my question (reworded) becomes, ‘Does an event of emotional and psychological trauma include more than one generation?’ As I dig deeper to find the answer(s), my question evolves from a general question to a personal one. Consequently, I’m now asking, “Did I experience (some of) my childhood trauma because of the childhood trauma that my mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother experienced?
My Conclusion:
In doing my research and truly pondering whether or not I’ve been personally affected by intergenerational trauma, I’ve come to the conclusion that I have certainly been affected. According to an article published by PsychCentral, “Intergenerational trauma is essentially what happens when adverse events or experiences are passed down from one generation to the next, often in unspoken and deeply complex ways” (Ryder & White, 2022, par 5). The American Psychological Association (APA) explains intergenerational trauma as being, “…expressed when the descendant of someone who experienced a traumatic event presents challenging emotional and behavioral reactions that are similar to their ancestor or relative”. In analyzing these two interpretations of intergenerational trauma, I’m able to assess my emotional, mental and social reactions to trauma and easily relate it to that of my ancestors. My ancestors that I know personally, as well as those whom I’ve heard other family members speak of, are all described as being: mean, quick-tempered and verbally, emotionally, mentally, and physically abusive to their children. These traumatic events caused their children to be mean, quick-tempered, and abusive as well. It also caused their children to result to using unhealthy coping mechanisms such as overeating, rage outbursts, domestic violence, substance abuse and promiscuity. Each generation of men and women, that I know of, from my great-great-grandmother to my generation, have all experienced the same traumas and have all responded in exactly the same ways. Along with the anger, rage, domestic violence, substance abuse and promiscuity is also severe depression and anxiety, suicidal ideations and attempts, criminal records, failed relationships and friendships, divorces, extensive (and seemingly irreparable) animosity between parent and child, among many other things. The intergenerational trauma has caused us to hurt each other and hurt ourselves.
— Something Has To Change —
Right now, I don’t have children and I’m so thankful to God. What I’ve went through in both my childhood and adulthood is something that I NEVER want my child(ren) to witness or personally experience! Although intergenerational trauma is a real thing that has infected, effected and affected many generations before me, it doesn’t mean that this trauma will remain a malignant, cancerous tumor that spreads to my children. It stops with me. I’m on a journey of healing mentally, emotionally and spiritually so that I can provide my future children with the love, assurance, peace, safety, support and comfort that I desperately needed as a child. This doesn’t mean that they will grow up to be the best people in the whole wide world; it simply means that they will know that they’re not in this huge world all alone and that mama loves them no matter what. In order for me to get to this place inside myself where I can provide my children with all these things, I have to face the generations before me. It’s not about confronting them or blaming them; it’s about understanding them and forgiving them. It’s about releasing them from the judgement and wrath. It’s about seeing the broken child inside of them and loving that child, even if I have to do it from a distance.
How do I do this? I contemplate their life story and identify all the ways in which their pain is my pain. Because I’ve personally experienced what they’ve experienced, I know their pain all too well. And, as I release them, I release myself. I give them permission to heal so that I too can be healed. It is now that I can sympathize with the generations before me. The sadness is so real. Their lives were so hard and, in many ways, unbearable. How can I continue to crucify them? I cannot.
References:
American Psychological Association. (n.d.) Trauma. Retrieved from https://www.apa.org/topics/trauma
Missouri’s Early Care & Education Connections. (n.d.) What Is Trauma? Retrieved from: https://earlyconnections.mo.gov/professionals/trauma-informed-care
Oxford Learner’s Dictionaries. (n.d.) Intergenerational. Retrieved from: https://www.oxfordlearnersdictionaries.com/us/definition/english/intergenerational
Ryder, G. & White, T. (2022). PsychCentral.com. Retrieved from https://psychcentral.com/lib/how-intergenerational-trauma-impacts-families

So, in May 2023, my friend (Em f23) and I (f28) had a conversation that started off friendly. Just chit-chat and funny anecdotes from the day. She brought up a situation with her coworker she enjoyed. It involved tourettes and one of her coworkers' specific tics.
I made a comment that I genuinely didn't think much of at the time. It was just some trivia I knew of and thought was interesting. Specifically that people with tourettes can 'catch' or involuntarily copy tics from other people with tourettes. It's something I learned from watching content made by people with tourettes. She made a comment like, "Maybe it's not like that, in this specific situation with my coworker."
Here's where I should have realised she was not interested in my trivia. What I definitely didn't realise was that it in fact made her mad, but I kept pushing anyways because I felt I was correct, that the coworker had picked up the tic from a well know streamer because it was literally identical. Em then stopped answering, after a couple hours of silence I asked her if she was actually mad about what I said and she responded with "Its fucking fine." Cue her not talking to me at all for 3 days. On the third day, she said we needed to have a sit-down conversation about boundaries because she "is having big feelings." her words, not mine.
I was so confused about what would have triggered her wanting to talk about boundaries when the conversation we had was a mild disagreement at worst. I would understand if I said something offensive, but I literally just said a fact and my opinion on her coworker, I didn't try to force her to agree, and there's proof of the streamer with that specific tic so it wasn't like I was lying to be able to one up her or something? I don't know, this whole part of the situation is incredibly confusing to me because she never talked about why that conversation triggered her to give me the silent treatment in the first place or how it led her to wanting to talk about boundaries. In the end, the boundaries she talked about much much later had nothing to do with this conversation even though it seemed to be what caused her to want boundaries. Idk, I'm still very confused about what actually caused her to want to have the discussion after the three days of silence and a minor disagreement.
At this point, still May 2023, I was in severe pain, but I did not know it was cancer yet. I was barely making it through each day with how much I was in pain. The tumor is in my leg, growing out of the top portion of my tibia in a way that has made the tibial platue hollow, or essentially a whisper thin shell of bone filled with slime, sorry but that's the best way to describe it. At any moment, my surgeon told me this later, I could have broken that thin bone and had a collapsed knee joint. I say this so you you know when I talk about pain here, I'm talking excruciating levels of pain.
So walking specifically and everything else was extremely painful, and that was taking a lot of energy and brain space. I told her I was in a ton of pain. I was exhausted and barely scraping by just to keep working while waiting for my doctors visits to hopefully figure out what was wrong. I said I would try to find a day to have "the talk," but things just kept getting worse. By the end of July I had seen four different doctors, three of which thought I was just trying to get drugs, the last one was an orthopedic doctor and she took two minutes of looking at an xray and another minute of looking at my leg to say I most likely had a tumor.
The official on paper diagnosis came in September because of the waiting time to meet with the surgeon, but we knew it was a tumor in August. I was put on essentially bed rest from august to the day I had surgery September 27th. I told Em about the tumor the day I got the MRI results which I had in mid August to prepare for the appointment with the surgeon. Her response was extremely upsetting to me.
Em: "That's a lot to deal with. The possibility of having a malignant tumor is scary and can make you really question life. When you're put into a situation like that, it forces you to look back on your life and reevaluate. You find out what you really want out of life and what you waisted too much time dealing with. That's really tough. I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't talk to me about your pain. Being more supportive of each other was something I wanted to talk about. Hopefully, you have a sweet and easy recovery."
That response hurt, it felt like she was saying I had a lot to regret in life and like I didn't have much time left to live to fix my regrets. But I thanked her for the empathy she tried to give and moved on. After that she never checked in on me, never asked how I was or what the plan of treatment was. My surgery was scheduled for the end of Spetember, the day after her birthday. I wished her a happy birthday. Then I let her know after the surgery that everything went well and that I was going to be in the hopsital for a few days. I was loopy on strong pain meds so i also told her that my nurse drew me a cute doodle on my white board, she said ".That's great! Hopefully you heal fast so you can go on a date with her. 😉" which was totally out of the blue. I havent dated anyone in the time Ive know or been friends with Em. Im asexual, and an extreme introvert, dating is not really my thing and she knows this. So that comment was very weird to me. After that she never even texted to check in on me or tried to visit me in the 5 days I stayed in the hospital after the surgery. Keep in mind, we are supposedly best friends.
I almost considered our friendship over by then, but I reached out to her when I was pretty much back on my feet to see what was going on and asked her what the conversation about boundaries was about. I apologized for being too chicken shit to ask about it earlier because I don't do well emotionally with getting criticism even when it's valid and I know I need to hear it. On top of that I was (and still am) dealing with fucking cancer. Not an excuse, it is an explanation though. So I apologized.
Her responses here, copy and pasted from our messages:
Em:
"First off I want so say that it's very respectable that you are willing to admit what you did wrong. Thank you for the apology.
Secondly, I don't know if the the conversation is still worth having. I'd be lying if I said I was devastated that we dropped off and didn't communicate for months. To be brutally honest, my life has drastically improved in our time apart. I'm so much more effective and positive. I'm very proud of how far I've come.
That's not to say I believed that you were the soul cause of all of my misfortune. In fact one of the boundaries I wanted to set was actual planned dates instead of spontaneous ones. Because I realized that I was using you like a form of procrastination. I couldn't do the things I needed to do because I chose to hang out with you instead. With my main distraction gone I've been able to thoroughly work through my shit, mental and physical.
When we last hung out I remembered feeling dark and heavy afterwards because it was nothing special. It was just a normal outing for us. I remember feeling angry that what we should have talked about wasn't addressed. Annoyed that it seemed like nothing had changed and that I had not changed. And scared that opening up communication could lead to me falling back into the pit again.
I don't know if we should have the original talk because so much has changed for both of us. We both equally walked over our own thresholds of hell. What I had to say months ago, I believe was true then, but I don't think it will be true now. I think it's quite possible for us to start anew and correct and develop as we go. But I think it would be just as easy to admit our friendship was a great experience. We were there when we needed each other. But it might be time to go our separate ways.
I will say, if we collectively choose to merge back together. I WON'T let it be the same. I don't want you to tell me every tiny dark secret. But I do want you to tell me that you want to stop at game stop and ask me to take you somewhere. Without fear of gas. I want you to tell me if it pisses you off that I take you to only crystal shops or that I talk about spiritually. Because I want to improve. I have no intention of continuing a relationship that doesn't inspire growth or bring me positivity."
So she stopped talking to me, because she had no self-control. She abandoned me during the worst medical crisis of my fucking life, because she doesn't know how to manage her time or her motivation. She punished me, for her problems. To be very specific the spontaneous hanging out was nearly 100% on her. I would ask to hang out rarely, because I never had the chance to because she would be asking to see me multiple times a week.
I'm not a social person, so other than work I don't have much going on and she was my best friend. I wasn't going to say no if I didn't have any other plans. She never brought up that she was procrastinating anything by hanging out with me. Never a peep. Never a hint. Nothing. I had no idea any of that was going on. If I did know I would have been 150,000% there to support her by asking how her goals were going, how her chores were going. Hell I would have helped her do chores as our hang out if she had asked. I did help her with some stuff. Painting her head board, rearranging and cleaning her room, working on crafts when she needed motivation to finish a piece for a friend, being a study buddy when she needed to focus on her mental health books, things like that.
Also in what world is learning to be accountable for your own actions and vacuuming regularly the same as going through cancer? I don't like comparing pain or life struggles usually, but this was a crossed line for me. For her to say her dealing with procrastination was an "equal threshold of hell" as my bone eating tumor and excruciating pain and the fear of it spreading to other parts of my body, it infuriates me still to think about that.
So I am now hurt and angry as hell, that she stopped talking to me over seemingly nothing that I did. I had no idea what was going on with the tourettes coworker conversation that ended in "its fucking fine" from her and then her next message was about her needing to set boundaries. And then she says her life is better without me in it.
Friendship effectively over. Or it should have been.
Here's where I'm a bit of an asshole.
I took her back. I said we could try again. That we both needed to improve but that we could do it better this time. At the time I genuinely believed it. For a couple weeks.
Then the more I thought about laying in that hospital bed, alone, wishing I had someone to distract me from the pain and fear, the more I started to realise her reasons for cutting contact was bullshit. Her wanting to have this big talk about boundaries and the boundaries she wanted were literally nothing I could do they were all her issues with her own decisions and there's was nothing I could change about myself to fix the problem she was putting 50/50 on my shoulders. Her saying her life was better without me when that whole time I was crying over missing her and trying to figure out what I did wrong where I fucked up, what I could do or say to fix it. It all just added up too much and so I sent her one last message.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking and going through my emotions and I think I'm going to step back from whatever this friendship has turned into. I'll be honest I feel betrayed that you didn't even try to support me going through cancer. I understand things were rocky when I got my diagnosis, however if our friendship was important to you on any level I can't understand why you didn't even text me to see how I was doing for months at a time when you knew I was going through one of, if not the most, difficult medical diagnosis humans can get. I felt completely abandoned, especially since the reason we even stopped talking and hanging out was because of your own procrastination issues which I had nothing to do with. If you had even just told me that you needed to get things done before we could hang out I would have supported you unconditionally. Instead you gave a vague "we need to talk about boundaries and being more supportive of each other." And then never supported me in the darkest time of my life so far. It's taken me a while to get to the root of why I feel the way I do, but I don't think I can just let this go like I wanted to. I loved being your friend and it always felt like you valued my friendship too, until you were cutting me off because of your poor time management. I know that will sound harsh, I'm sorry, but it's true. I have my own issues that hurt you, I know that and I really am sorry. I am sorry I could never reciprocate financially, I'm sorry you were the one always picking me up and driving. I'm sorry that I never gave you the birthday or Christmas gifts you wanted. Thank you for all the amazing times. Goodbye."
To clarify the gift thing, I have been very poor for a long time. I am neurodivergent and I struggle to hold down a job. But I hand made her gifts, or cooked for her. The last thing I made for her was a crochet mandala blanket, please look up Radiance Mandala Blanket to see how much effort I went to, she picked the colors and I made her a lap blanket version for christmas 2022. It took her less than a month to complain that she wished she could have picked the colors. SHE DID. I told her to pick a pallet of colors specifically for her blanket and did my best to match the colors she picked with yarn I already owned. It wasn't perfect but I got it as close as I could. I don't like to make a big deal out of things I do for people because giving to the ones I love is literally the easiest thing in the world for me. But to have her act like I didnt try to make it as perfect for her as I could hurt so much.
Anyways, back to me telling her I was done. Her reply back pissed me off, maybe because I was already angry. It felt so patronizing and dismissive. But that might just be because of all the emotions I was already feeling at the time I read it.
Em: "Your feelings are valid. I'm sorry I made you feel abandoned in the hardest time. I wish you the best of luck on your way through life. Fall in love, have your farm, raise your kids, craft wonderful creations, enjoy the many YouTube videos to come, and don't forget to live your best self. I'll take this harsh lesson and apply it to friendships in the future. Live long and prosper, my friend, and have many pleasant wanderings."
Harsh lesson my ass. If it was harsh for anyone it was harsh for me to learn my best friend gave absolutely no shits about me and couldnt be bothered to try and support me through this medical crisis. We haven't spoken since. I have her blocked on everything. So, aita for cutting off Em? Even though I'm angry, I'm conflicted because I still love her, she was my best friend for 6 years.

Hey Reddit! This may become a lengthy post, so I will add a TL;DR at the bottom. I changed everyone's names in this post to keep their privacy.
I (23f) have been friends with Larry for roughly 3½ years. We met at a hospital and became temporary roommates in 2021, after I went through a long-term treatment and had nowhere to go. We decided to stay roommates and rent a bigger apartment together, which we moved into in Nov. 2022.
Larry and I have a shared friend circle and have been getting along great for almost 3 years. We never really had any fights before (which I now realize was mostly due to us both being scared of conflict and me leaving minor red flags uncommented). But many things changed when I started dating my (now-)fiancé.
Here are the reasons I think Larry may have turned into a toxic friend (I'm going to try to stick with the major things + examples):

• 1.) POTENTIAL GUILT TRIPPING; (I am writing "potential", since I obviously can't be 100% sure whether Larry's intention really is to make me feel guilty, but it feels a lot like it.) There are quite a few situations where I felt guilt-tripped, but it would be too long to list them all so I will tell you about a recent situation:

My fiancé and I were at my grandma's on mother's day and ate there. Larry asked us about dinner plans when we returned, to which we both replied that we were currently full and we'd just throw a pizza in the oven in case we'd get hungry later. Larry said he would also eat later then, so we could all have dinner together. We told him he didn't need to wait for us and to just eat if he was hungry but he insisted on waiting. That same evening there was a huge argument between Larry and us over a plastic wrapper that had fallen out of the trash can (Larry lashed out on us out of nowhere, accused us of leaving the trash there on purpose and complained that he had to crouch down to pick it up when he was in pain, instead of just asking for help). My fiancé and I avoided Larry for the majority of the evening, because we were still upset and the conflict was not resolved. We went to the kitchen to drink something and Larry came in, sat down and after a couple minutes of silence asked something along the lines of: "Didn't we want to have dinner together? I waited the whole time, but you didn't come!" I told him that the fighting spoiled my appetite and I didn't want to eat anything to which my fiancé agreed. Larry then said something like: "Great, then I won't get to eat tonight. Actually I am super hungry, but I can't eat alone, so if you don't eat I won't get to eat anything either."

• 2.) HYPOCRISY; I already mentioned that Larry and I have a shared circle of friends and whenever Larry and I get into an argument, he is quick to call our friends and vent to them. However, Larry told me that he doesn't want me to talk about those conflicts with my family members or people he doesn't know. He says he is "scared they may turn me against him and ruin the friendship". He never asked me whether I am okay with him ranting to our shared friends though and I usually avoid dragging our friends into it, because I don't want to make them feel awkward or put them in a position where they may have to pick sides.
  
• 3.) INTENTIONAL MISUNDERSTANDING/OVERSTATEMENTS AND ACCUSATIONS; Larry has a tendency to present his assumptions and interpretations as facts. An example: Larry was at work and I was up in my room. I didn't hear when he came home (I was playing a video game, I think) and he didn't come upstairs to greet me. He later told his daughter Bonnie (15f), that I had locked myself in my room, since I wasn't feeling well. At least that is what Bonnie told me, but it is very believable to me, because he also said things like that about me to or in front of me in the past.
  

What I mean by intentional misunderstandings is this: I always choose my words very carefully to prevent misunderstandings and accidentally hurting or offending people. Larry, often times, tells me that I said certain things to him, which I know I didn't and/or would never say. For example:
I went to the hospital for psychogenic issues and had to stay there overnight. During that time he often had huge fights with Bonnie and the constant screaming and general turbulence at home stressed me a lot. I told him that if I noticed myself getting too stressed out due to the situation at home, I would consider staying at my mom's or fiancé's place for a couple days to avoid ending up in the hospital again. His reply was (I don't remember the exact wording, but the key message is the same): "So you are just gonna abandon us when Bonnie raises her voice? Great, I thought we'd go through everything together and you'd always help me, but if you want to leave as soon as Bonnie gets upset, sure!" I told him that wasn't what I said or meant and explained again that I need to prioritize my health and that next time I wouldn't ignore my psychogenic symptoms until it escalates, but retreat to a place where I could get a breather. After hearing my explanation he, once again, accused me of planning to abandon him and his daughter at the first "opportunity that presents itself". I told him once more that that wasn't what I said or meant, but he stuck to his version and brought it up multiple times in the days following that conversation.

• 4.) DISRESPECTING BOUNDARIES; I remember an incident where I walked into the kitchen after waking up and Larry instantly started complaining about his ex-wife and the way CPS handled their case etc. I told him: "I just woke up, can I please have breakfast in peace, before talking about such hefty topics? I am still too tired to listen or give advice properly." Larry said that was okay, but as soon as I had prepared my bowl of cereal he continued ranting and asking me for my opinions on the matter. I was too tired to argue, so I just did my best to follow what he was saying and gave half-hearted, short answers. Another example: During the last big fight we had, he wanted to hug me. I told him I didn't want to, but he insisted and kept walking towards me. My fiancé, who was right next to me, snapped and shouted at Larry for not respecting my boundary and that I clearly said no. Larry later claimed that he had respected my boundary and had neither tried to verbally pressure me into hugging him, nor taken another step in my direction.
  
• 5.) LYING (AND GASLIGHTING?); Larry lies very very frequently and gets really aggressive and defensive whenever someone points that out. An example:
  

We have two dogs that usually sleep in my room. One night I got really panicked, cause I kept hearing noises in the hallway outside my door, so I locked myself in my room for the night. The next day I was sitting in the kitchen with Larry and at some point I looked at the clock and said: "Oh shit, I need to walk the dogs!" Larry was confused and said I didn't have to do that, because he had walked them early in the morning as he "always does". I told him that was impossible, cause the dogs were locked inside my room with me. At first Larry insisted he had been outside with them, but after telling him again that it was just not possible he did a full 180 and lashed out at me for "constantly locking the dogs in my room with me, which made it impossible for him to walk them". I don't lock myself in overnight regularly, it was a one time thing. In another conversation Larry actually admitted to not walking the dogs every morning, but only after he had claimed to be walking them every morning earlier in that same conversation. According to Bonnie and my fiancé he doesn't go outside with the dogs every morning, as he claims. They have witnessed him leaving for work without walking the dogs multiple times, yet he always said he had done it when somebody asked him about it.
This infuriates me so much, because I told him at least twice that I was grateful he walked the dogs in the morning but that there was no shame if he didn't have the time or energy to do so on some days. I asked him to just inform me in that case, because the doggos need to pee. His reply was that walking the dogs in the morning was something he enjoyed doing and it was therapeutic for him - he never once texted me or left me a piece of paper saying that the dogs have yet to be walked. Why the borderline animal abuse??? Why not just be honest?
Larry also constantly tells me how much I've changed, that I am not the person he initially befriended etc., since I have been dating my fiancé. He also told me in an argument that all my friends were distancing themselves from me because I had changed so much. I once asked him to define this grave change he was describing, which he couldn't. I ended up asking my other friends about it and they told me I had been a little different in the beginning of the relationship, but it all went back to normal after a couple weeks and that, to them, I was still the same likeable person.

• 6.) DELIBERATE PROVOCATION; Larry often does things, that he knows make me angry. He knows that, because I told him about it insanely often and I continue to do it every time it happens. One of those things is constantly asking me whether "everything is okay between us". And by constantly I mean CONSTANTLY. I tell him everything's fine and he says: "I don't believe you." over and over until I snap and raise my voice. He then asks me why I'm so angry all of a sudden. He uses situations like these as a reaction to being criticized by saying: "You are also bitchy sometimes, like last time when I asked you whether everything's alright." I told him that this behaviour infuriates me, but he told me he just is like that and that I have to accept it, that I never had a problem with it before (which is not true) and that I also have flaws.

I don't know if these are just normal behaviours in conflict, if Larry is really toxic or if what he does is borderline abusive. I am terrified of losing our shared friends if I move out and that the 3 months we have to stay in this apartment after canceling the rental agreement will become hell for me. What if he turns Bonnie against me with his manipulation tactics and I have to spend 3 months in an apartment where it's 2 against one? I am also terrified of Larry not giving up my dog, since his name is also in the purchase contract.
TL;DR: The friend I share an apartment with is behaving in various ways that I think could be toxic and I don't know how to get out of here without losing everything.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest as I heard the words that shattered my world. You betrayed me. You looked at me with a smirk and said, "Yeah, I did. What are you gonna do about it?" I couldn't believe it. How could you do this to me? How could you turn your back on me after everything we've been through? A single tear fell from my eye, and you noticed. "Oh... oh, don't cry..." You said, but not with kindness. With mockery. You reached for my face, but I flinched away. You grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. I saw an old photo of us on the table, smiling and happy. We looked so innocent and pure. I cried harder, remembering the good times we had. You snatched the photo from my hands and tore it up. You threw the pieces in my face and said, "It's over! Our friendship has ended!" I sobbed, feeling the pieces of my heart breaking along with the photo. I did nothing but trust you…. I cried, trying to find some explanation for your actions. You laughed and said, "And I did nothing but break that trust. And I don't regret a damn thing." You looked at me with contempt and said, "... you are not the Ralsei I know and love! You're just an impostor pretending to be him." You wiped your mouth and said, "Hey, hey, no need to cry over something that's over. I'm the Dark Prince now. And if you think I still have a heart..." You slapped me across the face, hard. I felt a sting and a bruise forming. "I hate you." You spat. "Do you think that hurts me? The only thing that hurts are your tears. You disgust me." You turned around and walked away. "Ugh, whatever. If you can't handle a betrayal, why did you trust me in the first place?" You said over your shoulder. I looked down, feeling numb and empty. You sighed and said, "...look, you were just so loyal. You were trusting me unconditionally, like I couldn't possibly hurt you. That's the only thing that makes me feel bad." You sounded almost sincere, but I knew it was a lie. "Ugh." You said, annoyed. I let out a whimper, and more tears fell. You shouted, "Dammit, I told you to stop crying!" You sighed again and said, "Look. Just... forget about me. I don't wanna see you again. I don't want anything to do with you." You started walking away, leaving me alone and broken. I just stood there, unable to move or speak. You sighed one last time and turned around. You looked at me with pity and said, "You're so sensitive, and I just hate seeing you like this. Just... please stop crying." You said softly, as if you cared. But I knew you didn't. You turned away and walked out of my life. I whispered, "I just miss the old you, that's all." But you didn't hear me. You didn't care. You were gone. And I was left with nothing but pain and tears.
I'll always treasure the memories we made, even though you're gone now. I may never fully recover from losing you, but I'll never forget you. Goodbye, Ralsei.

Chapter 1
Mors
An endless void, silence interlaid with its pitch-darkness, greeted an injured man. No light can be seen, sensations be damned, and consciousness spread thin as though taut in this incomprehensive expanse that laid before him.
Callum fell into the abyss, his mind the only thing left to accompany him. He hasn’t even counted the minutes as his mind is plagued by something else. He never considered himself a man of interest, only scraping by with his odd jobs and part-time salaries, hence why he couldn’t understand his current situation.
Betrayal is something that he is familiar with, whether it be a betrayal of his expectations when a co-worker broke his promise or a betrayal of his emotions when his first love interest cheated on him back in uni. However, this betrayal orchestrated by his best friend whom he’d known for 5 years, and girlfriend for 8 years felt more gut-wrenching than the pain he felt from the stab.
Denial was the first thing that stormed his mind. He couldn’t believe that the two closest people in his life would stab him in the back, literally. There was no build-up, he didn’t suspect a thing, and everything was normal until he found steel in his flesh.
He rejected the notion that his girlfriend, Catherine, would betray him like this, an accomplice to a murder that he can’t grasp the motive of. He has built up some savings, but it isn’t something that would be worth murdering someone for, especially after buying that ring.
He dismissed the thought of Jake being jealous of their relationship as he couldn’t see the guy doing something as stupid as this. He can’t form any rhyme or reason as to why they would do it, and the only possible explanation is that this was all a dream and he was actually still sleeping inside the tent.
But as he waited for himself to wake from this nightmare, only darkness greeted him. He had tried moving his body in this sea of blackness, but the movement only felt like going through molasses with tired arms, which is why he attributed this as being only a dream that he would wake up from, which appeared to be wrong as he waited and waited.
Anxiety crept in as he tried to call out, but no sound escaped his lips. He strained his voice to be heard, yet he can't even hear himself. No light adorned this place, no wind to be heard, and he couldn’t feel anything even though he tried feeling himself.
The pain in his back was forgotten as he tried and tried to move, to scream, to flail senselessly, amounting to nothing as he was greeted by nothing.
Feeling anything in this void is something impossible, and the only thing that he can do is return to his mindscape.
He went back to his oldest memories, back to a time when everything felt oppressive and suffocating. Callum was born into a broken family. His mother and father had gone through a divorce when he was only 6 years old. He could still remember the screaming and yelling of his parents whenever night fell in their sorry state of an apartment.
His father, Eric, having not finished his education after Callum’s birth, has been living as a blue-collar worker in downtown New Jersey. Even during his day-offs, he can’t seem to find rest as he goes to do odd jobs and part-time work to stay afloat. On the other hand, his mother would leave him, a toddler, alone in the apartment.
He remembered her putting CDs in a DVD player so that it could keep his attention on a cartoon that his father introduced him to. If he had anything to describe his mother, she would be irresponsible and narcissistic. She would sometimes bring guys over to their apartment, threatening Callum with divorce if he ever told Eric about it, hence why it took several years until his dad caught on and filed for a divorce.
Eric was determined to take Callum with him, he argues that he could take care of his child better than Callum’s mother. But his mother and her twisted pride can’t let go of Callum, which leads to a legal dispute between the two.
The court hearings went on for several months, with each passing day being a lot more hellish for Callum. He was subjected to further insults by his mother as she knew that leaving bruises on her child would lower her chances of winning over the court to her side. Sometimes, she would go as far as manipulate him, gaslighting him into believing that she was a good mother who would take care of him better than his father. But after seeing that the court favors Eric’s side more, his mother took drastic measures to satisfy her wounded pride.
It was the second to the last day of the court hearing, and it was during this time that his father was working overtime. Callum had just gone home from his elementary school, feeling tired as he hauled his bag over his shoulders up the multiple flights of stairs he had to climb to get to their apartment.
As he neared his home, he steeled himself and opened the door, only to be met with overturned tables and broken ceramics. He walked quietly through the scene, afraid that someone might hear him entering his home. Looking back on it now, Calum can’t help himself but laugh at his stupidity. He could have gone and alerted their neighbors, or gone back downstairs to wait for his father, but being a child, Callum doesn’t know what to do.
As he entered his room, he saw black words spray painted on the walls, the meaning eluding him as he didn’t know what it meant since he was 7 at the time, but remembering it now sent shivers down his spine.
The words “This is what you get!” on a torn wallpaper are ingrained in his mind. Seeing the manic letters sprayed over the walls gave Callum anxiety, taking a few steps back towards the open front door of their apartment. Escape was now on his mind as he grew scared of what was to come, something that was far too late as he heard his mother behind him.
It was there that everything turned into a blur. He remembered snippets of yelling and crying both from himself and his mother. He remembered his mother forcing something down his throat. He remembered his father coming home early that day and restraining his mother, a crazy look in her eyes. He remembered the feeling of nausea and the floor colored with his lunch. And he remembered the sirens, red and blue lights dancing in his vision as he was carried to a stretcher. The last thing he remembered was his father crying, holding his hands tightly when he opened his tired eyes.
For the next few days, he learned from the news that his mother attempted a double suicide. The story goes, after losing the custody battle, the mother planned to take revenge by ending the lives of both her child and herself. They said that he got lucky as the neighbors had contacted Eric when his mother turned their home upside down, relating it to a possible home invasion. If not for him, Callum would have died from nicotine poisoning after his mother forced tobacco down his gullet, a morbid story that he uses as a joke during his time at work.
He remembered being inside that hospital for days on end, his body recovering from the poison his mother left him with, and his father was there almost every day even though he had to work to pay the hospital bills. After what felt like forever was he allowed to be discharged, going back to the same refurbished apartment that they lived in, but after seeing how Callum had recurring nightmares and trauma attached to the place, they decided to move to Pennsylvania. A hard decision that needed to be made as his father would put it.
Everything after the whole incident was better for Callum. His father got a job as a mover, still doing some part-time work here and there, and Callum did his best in school so as not to burden his father with more work. Even though they lived in a rundown shack handed to them by one of the locals, they didn’t mind as they knew that getting to live at all was better than what they had before.
Callum smiled in the abyss as he reminisced about his time with his father. He was a great man, a good role model for anyone who came across him. He is kind-hearted and considerate, a hard worker that makes him popular among his peers. It was them that helped move him and his father out of New Jersey and found them a place to sleep in, teaching Callum that socializing and connecting with like-minded people goes a long way when someone needs it.
For the next few years, Callum lived happily. Though there were some ups and downs, he and his father got through it, which is why the memory of his time in university was depressing.
Eric, after having saved some money, gave Callum the go-ahead to enroll in a university in California. But after attaining an athletic scholarship in football, Callum gave his father a surprise to ease his worries and stress. Callum felt bad every time he saw his father work, hence why he tried his hardest to take some of that workload to give him a break. With the tuition being lowered with the scholarship, Callum could give the rest of the money back to his dad. A gesture that was fully gratified as his father had a hard time letting him go when the time came to move over to the university. But it was during this time that tragedy struck.
It was his fourth year in studying anthropology when he heard the news from one of his father’s friends, Robby. After hearing it, he grew distressed and worried, taking a lot of convincing from Robby to keep Callum from moving back to Pennsylvania.
His father has gone missing. The news had spread amongst his co-workers and friends, and a search team was already being dispatched to find him. Even though Callum tried to keep his focus on studying, he couldn’t help but feel agitated as days went by without news of his father being seen. His mental state plummeted, and he grew withdrawn from reality as days turned to weeks, his father still gone.
He could still remember the times when he locked himself in the school’s library, searching the web to find any news or reports of his father's whereabouts, but as he searched for days on end, only one thing kept popping up from the newsletters. His father, Eric Hurst Foster, went missing in his own home. There were no struggles in the house, the CCTV didn’t see him on any of the roads or stores in the town they lived in, he just seemed to have vanished into thin air.
The news ate away at Callum, and his friends that he’d made during the time gave their support to keep him from spiraling out of control. However, even with their support, Callum’s worries over his dad never went away, hence why he threw himself into work. Going to part-time jobs and studying is the only way to keep his mind from blowing. He did this until he finished university and found a job to stay afloat.
This went on for years until he’s come to accept that his father may never be found. With nothing to ground him in their old home, he decided to explore the world, thinking that one day, he might find a lead to the whereabouts of his dad.
Months turned to years as he worked tirelessly in multiple jobs. From being a mechanic, electrician, cook, waiter, and many more to count, Callum went on a work frenzy. He made a plan to scour the states as a freelancer, living in his BMW pick-up truck that was given to him by one of his friends. He stayed in each state for a few months, meeting new people and making some friends along the way. They sent their well wishes to Callum as they knew that he was still trying to find his missing father.
Years went by as he made his way back to California. He had gone and explored every state, and yet no news of his father came to light. The case had gone cold, and it was up to Callum to find any clues to this mystery. His mind has told him to give up the search, and multiple friends have given him consolation as they knew that his father would never be found, but Callum persevered.
It was during this time that he found himself as a mover, the same job that his father had before he disappeared. He had just come back to California after getting the job, and he was about to go check in for his first day when a sudden downpour of rain covered the skies of the city. It was only coincidental that he was near that coffee shop, and it was coincidental that only two customers were present there. He and his future girlfriend turned accomplice to his murder.
The rest of his memories went by as he continued to float in the abyss. From the time of their first years in a relationship to meeting Jake for the first time in that apartment to when he taught PE and History in a school in Minnesota. Everything went by as Callum went from one memory to another until he felt something.
A chill ran down his spine as an indescribable dread manifested in his mind. He knew not why he felt this way, and he felt himself tearing at the seams as a slit of light showed itself in the void. He was then pulled into the light, senses coming back after he spent his time in the abyss for what felt like days. And with a flash, he is back in the same hunched-over position he was in when he was stabbed in the back.
Callum can’t help but laugh as he finally could see again. Trees surrounded his vision, with wild grass carpeting the ground. But before he could truly see the world, he felt a sharp pain in his back. With his body remembering that he was injured, he felt himself sweat profusely as he bled, painting the flowers under him red. And yet he didn’t panic.
After all that time reminiscing, he finally gave in and let death come to him. He fell on his back, sending another wave of pain coursing through his body, cursing under his breath as he regretted not laying himself down slowly. And as he looked to the sky, he felt himself getting colder and colder.
Callum felt at peace as he stared at the clouds above him. The sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves helped him come to terms that he was truly dying. He’d thought about death a lot. During his time when he was a kid, and when he was depressed after his father went missing. But the peace he felt for only a few moments as emotions came crashing down.
He felt himself tear up as he came to terms with his current situation. He would never have a chance to marry the girl in his life. He would never have a chance to have his own children and see them grow. He would never have a chance to be a father. And he would never have a chance to grow old with the people he loved around him.
As he thought of these things, the floodgates opened. Streams of tears fell down his cheeks as he sobbed in his dying state. He could only put his hands over his eyes to stop it from flowing, an action that felt challenging as his body became fatigued from all the blood loss. The crying only hastened his death as he felt his breath escape him, his lungs labored and filled with blood as the stab had punctured it.
Minutes went by as Callum felt himself grow tired and tired. And as he closed his eyes, Callum’s heart slowed and slowed as his body has a lack of blood to pump. His breathing grew shallower with each second until his body gave way and stopped altogether.
Callum died at the age of 34, stabbed in the back by his best friend with his girlfriend being an accomplice for his murder. He died from blood loss as his body colored the ground red.
Callum waited and waited to feel his consciousness fade as he welcomed death to greet him. And as the second grew…
'…Wait.'
His consciousness never faded away.

I had a punch biopsy a few months ago that was “consistent” with Morphea since my ANA is negative. I had my first appointment with my rheumatologist today, and he said that morphea doesn’t cause ANY symptoms, besides skin plaques. I have a few skin plaques so, yeah.
I have been searching for answers for a plethora of horrible symptoms I’ve been facing for years. Trips to every doctor imaginable. Thousands of tests. High esr, negative ANA, all normal blood work at the moment but every once in a while random things will be low or elevated.. I have DEBILITATING fatigue, joint and muscle pain that can be debilitating, trouble breathing, low blood pressure, and loss of grip strength. I am not overweight or unhealthy so I can’t blame my habits on these things. My doctor says those symptoms are not being caused by morphea because morphea is essentially symptomless. He also says absolutely everyone with systemic scleroderma has raynauds and since I don’t, he won’t do any further testing. I’m not sure how this whole process works, but I’m feeling pretty defeated. I don’t know the next step, but life is getting pretty hard to live when every day is a stuggle but I don’t have any answers as to what’s causing it. I really don’t know if I should give up on trying to find out what is causing these issues. I don’t know what doctor to visit. I don’t know how to rationalize my misery when I can’t seem to find a medical explanation.

May officemate (si Ms. A) ako dati na nakaka trauma yung pinag daanan. Bago palang ako sa company non tapos nakikita ko sya almost every day mugto yung mata, or minsan, okay sya tapos biglang pupunta ng CR, ayun pala umiiyak na.
Nung one time, sumama ako sa kanilang lumabas nag kwento sya.
Meron syang live in partner for 13 years. Yung partner nya na yun, kakilala ng lahat ng ka work namin kasi kapag lumalabas sila sumasama si guy. Minsan nga daw si guy pa nag iinitiate ng mga gala tapos nanlilibre din. So in short, naging tropa na sya nung mga workmate namin. Almost every day din kapag nandyan si guy (seaman kasi sya) hatid sundo nya si Ms A. Sobrang sweet din daw ni guy, as in parang perfect partner na. Hindi lang sila makapag pakasal kasi on going pa yung annulment ni Ms. A sa ex nya.
Then there was this time daw na parang sobrang paranoid ni Ms. A, iba yung kutob nya. Sinabi nya yun kay guy na there’s something bothering her pero hindi nya alam kung ano. Sinabihan lang sya ni guy na baka stress lang sya, so nag date sila pero di padin mapakali sya mapakali.
Since close nga si Ms. A sa lahat, yung isang ka work namin na babaero nag bigay ng tip sa kanya. Sabi nya, kung na bobother talaga sya hanapin nya yung extra phone ni guy (which we didn’t know na requirement ata sa mga lalaki) Una sabi pa ni Ms. A na walang ganon si guy, pero sabi ng ka work namin imposible daw. Icheck daw yung mga shoe boxes or kaya trunk ng sasakyan baka nandon. Pag uwi ni Ms. A sa kanila, una nyang chineck yung trunk nung sasakyan. Bumungad sa kanya yung gift box na may undergarments ng babae and ring box with engagement ring inside. naiiyak sya sa surprise na nakita nya. When she checked the ring, narealized nya na maliit yung size. Pag sukat nya, confirmed nga na hindi para sa kanya yung singsing. Nung hinalughog nya rin yung sasakyan ni guy, don nya nakita yung extra phone na sinasabi nung ka work namin.
Sa sobrang galit nya he confronted guy, tapos di daw tumangi. umiyak lang daw ng umiyak sa kanya at paulit ulit na nag sosorry. sabi din ni guy na bigyan sya ng two weeks, aayusin nya lahat ng kagaguhang ginawa nya.
After that confrontation umalis si guy sa bahay nila. Si Ms. A, hindi nya alam kung anong gagawin kasi di malinaw sa kanya lahat eh. walang explanation na binigay si guy kung ano ba yung kasalanang ginawa nya or kung para kanino yung mga nakita nya. She waited for two weeks for guy. After two weeks wala pading paramdam sakanya, don nya sya nag tanong sa kamag anak ni guy saka sa ibang friends. nalaman nya na si guy, naka buntis ng iba at ikakasal na. Hindi lang malinaw sa kanya kung yung baby na dinadala nung girl is firts baby nila ni guy or second baby na. Kasi nung inistalk nya yung FB nung girl, nakita nyang may 6 y.o na anak daw yung girl and hawig daw yun ni guy. tapos kasama din si guy sa mga ilang pictures nung baby pa yung bata.
Ang pinaka masakit, alam nung parents ni guy yung relationship nya doon sa kabit na girl pero okay lang sa kanila. Ang sabi nga, yung mother ni guy yung nag insist kay guy na pakasalan yung kabit bago manganak.
After hearing her story feeling ko ako yung naloko ng sobra. Damang dama ko yung pain na nafefeel nya. Kaya pala lagi syang tulala sa office or minsan bigla bigla nalang naiiyak kasi nakaka trauma pala talaga yung pinag daanan nya. May times pa na after two months ata yun na walang parandam si guy, biglang may nag padala ng bouquet of flowers kay Ms. A, walang nakalagay kung kanino galling pero same na same daw yung arrangements nung flowers sa mga narerecieve nya noon from guy. may note din na nakalagay na “I miss you so much” ata yun.

I bought a NEW 2022 NIRO EV ex in April 2022 with 4k markup. Yes yes I know I know but the car was free thru California cap and trade programs.
Shortly after I experienced phantom breaking and right blind spot not working randomly. I had it inspected and they couldn't figure out what was wrong. Later after multiple visits they said I CAUSED the front radar bracket to bend. It's like 1/4" thick piece of metal. However...
There was NO damage to the front bumper cover. Behind the bumper cover is high density black styrofoam which is also not damaged. After that is the plastic radar... Also not damaged. The radar is attached with bolts the bolts are also NOT damaged.the bracket is attached to the bumper and guess what no damage. Kia is denying Warranty saying "outside forces" damaged the radar bracket but wouldn't tell me how a bracket can bend but not the surrounding components
I had the state BAR rep and ASE certificated tech saying Kia is lying.And that it is a manufacturer defect it would be impossible for me to have caused it. Kia still denys saying it's bent so it's out of warranty without explanation of how I could bend it and nothing else is damaged without laying blame it's a manufacturer defect.
My KIA rep is saying if I can't afford it to file on my insurance. I told her that would be insurance fraud as I did not cause the damage and the bar rep clearly claims it is a factory defect.
So they still denying it saying I caused it but won't tell me how a 1/4 steel plate can bend when other components are not damaged..
So now I'm suing Kia for 3x damages because they denied my warrenty/ lemon without cause and again 3x because because for frauding someone who is disabled. Ie fraud offer 5 year 50k bumper to bumper warranty then denying without a valid reason or explanation how I caused the damage is fraud.
I paid approx 52k * 3 * 3= 486k at 14k for pain and suffering and well =500,000
I'm sure Kia is going to LOVE explaining in front of a judge why they did not honor warranty
Best part for $300 I can subpoena the ASE BAR rep to testify in court and have him say it is impossible for the part to bend unless other parts were damaged and they weren't.
Best part the BAR is the department of consumer affairs. Suck it Kia, all you had to do was replace a 3k component instead I'm shooting for blood now.
I'm putting this out NOW before we decide to settle and I'm required to sign a NDA.

Causes of Sudden Tooth Sensitivity:

1. Brushing Too Hard:
   • Explanation: Aggressive brushing or using a hard-bristled toothbrush can wear down enamel and expose dentin, leading to sensitivity. It can also cause gum recession.
2. Gum Recession:
   • Explanation: Some individuals are genetically predisposed to thin gum tissue, while others experience gum recession due to periodontal disease, exposing the roots and increasing sensitivity.
3. Gum Disease:
   • Explanation: Inflamed and sore gum tissue from periodontal disease can lead to sensitivity by exposing the root surfaces, which are directly linked to the tooth's nerve.
4. Cracked Teeth:
   • Explanation: Chipped or broken teeth can become infected with bacteria from plaque, causing inflammation and sensitivity.
5. Teeth Grinding (Bruxism):
   • Explanation: Grinding or clenching teeth can wear down enamel, exposing the underlying dentin and increasing sensitivity.
6. Teeth Whitening Products:
   • Explanation: Whitening products can cause sensitivity. It’s important to consult a dentist for suitable options if you have sensitive teeth.
7. Age:
   • Explanation: Tooth sensitivity tends to peak between the ages of 25 and 30.
8. Plaque Buildup:
   • Explanation: Plaque accumulation on root surfaces can cause sensitivity.
9. Mouthwash Use:
   • Explanation: Over-the-counter mouthwashes containing acids can worsen sensitivity if dentin is exposed. Consult a dentist for neutral fluoride solutions.
10. Acidic Foods:
    • Explanation: Regular consumption of acidic foods like citrus fruits, tomatoes, pickles, and tea can erode enamel, leading to sensitivity.
11. Recent Dental Procedures:
    • Explanation: Procedures like fillings, cleanings, and restorations can cause temporary sensitivity, usually resolving within four to six weeks.

Does a Sensitive Tooth Mean Infection?

• Explanation: Not necessarily. Tooth sensitivity can be due to erosion or gum recession. However, it can also indicate a cracked or infected tooth. Infection-related pain can range from dull and achy to sharp and throbbing. Persistent severe sensitivity warrants a dentist consultation.

Care and Treatment:

Can Sensitive Tooth Pain Go Away?

• Explanation: Yes, particularly if caused by recent dental procedures. Persistent sensitivity might indicate worn enamel or exposed roots, requiring dental treatment.

How to Stop Sensitive Teeth Pain:

1. Use Desensitizing Toothpaste:
   • Explanation: Regular use of toothpaste designed for sensitive teeth can reduce discomfort. Applying a thin layer to exposed roots before bed can help. Ensure it contains fluoride.
2. Maintain Good Oral Hygiene:
   • Explanation: Proper brushing and flossing techniques are crucial to clean all parts of your teeth and mouth thoroughly.
3. Use a Soft-Bristled Toothbrush:
   • Explanation: This reduces abrasion and gum irritation.
4. Watch What You Eat:
   • Explanation: Limit consumption of highly acidic foods to prevent enamel erosion and dentin exposure.
5. Use Fluoridated Dental Products:
   • Explanation: Daily use of a fluoridated mouth rinse can reduce sensitivity. Consult your dentist for suitable products.
6. Avoid Teeth Grinding:
   • Explanation: Use a mouth guard at night if you grind or clench your teeth.
7. See Your Dentist Regularly:
   • Explanation: Routine exams, cleanings, and fluoride treatments are essential.

Dental Procedures for Reducing Sensitivity:

• Dental Bonding: Covers exposed root surfaces.
• Fluoride Varnishes: Applied to exposed root surfaces.
• Dentin Sealers: Applied to exposed root surfaces.

Summary:

Understanding the causes and treatments of tooth sensitivity helps in managing and reducing discomfort effectively. Regular dental visits and good oral hygiene are key to preventing and addressing this common issue.

I want to thank Meatcanyon and Wendigoon for starting Creepcast. I've played around with writing horror, and here is my first short story. I will post it for free in a few other places to see what people think. Please enjoy!
A Hike to Remember
By R.L. Oclen
Chapter 1
A woman sits with hastily pulled-up fire-red hair in the waiting room of the state patrol station. The procedurally sterile off-white walls and decade-old magazines do little for comfort. With her head hanging low, her shoulders pushing forward, and her boots rapidly tapping on the floor, something has to give.
"Please just let her be okay." The woman growls as a pair of officers come in from the field. The officers' demeanors quickly change when they see the familiar face.
"Tabitha, did Officer Nichols call you?" one of the state patrol officers asked sympathetically.
"Yes, he asked me to come in and pick up a few things," Tabitha said, shooting back a muted look.
" I'll let them know you're here." The officer said, nodding to Tabitha as they passed the security door. Tabitha leaned back against the hard plastic chair, staring blankly into the fluorescent light. She had done this dance in the macabre repeatedly over the past month. The last image of her younger sister, Lisa, still burned in her mind. Tabitha had always been protective over her younger sister after their parents died. A pang of guilt shoots through her chest as she thinks about her and Lisa's argument.
"Tabitha Hymm, Officer Nichols is ready for you."
"Okay," she stood up, shaking off her guilt, and followed the officer back. The familiar surroundings of the state patrol station blurred as Tabitha stared forward. She followed the officer as they came to a rustic wooden office door, which was embossed with "Officer Nichols."
The escorting officer turns the old brass door knob. "Sir, I have Tabitha Hymm here." A grizzled West Virginia Highway State Patrol veteran sits behind the desk and nods. The escorting officer steps aside, pushing the door open as Tabitha pushes past him and slumps in the awaiting chair like so many times before. An uncomfortable relationship had formed between the two, born out of necessity and duty.
"Cup of coffee?"
"No thanks. Let's just cut to the chase. You don't have anything new?"
The worn laugh lines and Officer Nichols's face flattens. His eyebrows contour sympathetically as he shakes his head.
"Tabitha, I don't have anything else new for you. I wanted to give you the clothes returned from the lab." Her face darkened at the same response she had heard many times.
"As we discussed two weeks ago, there is nothing new and no signs of struggle or foul play," Officer Nichols said while placing a box marked evidence on the table and sliding it forward. Tabitha began to weep at the realization of Lisa's clothes in front of her. In a coordinated queue, Officer Nichols brought out a box of tissues. Reluctantly, Tabitha took a few moments to unblur her vision.
"How does someone stop their car in the middle of the Remington West Virginia State Park, lock it, and then walk into the woods?" Officer Nichols clasped his hands together and sighed at her worn question.
"Tabitha, I wish I had an answer for why your sister stopped her car in the woods and simply walked off. We're still going through her cell phone, but no signs exist that anyone forced her. On that Tuesday morning, she pulled over to the side of the road, secured her car, and walked away." Officer Nichols said empathetically.
Tabitha became stoic at the same explanation she had heard many times before. " So what next?"
"You should go back to Ohio, and I'll contact you as soon as I have more information." She winced at Officer Nichols's words. Reality began to pull at her that bills and work wouldn't wait much longer.
"If I leave, she's gone for good."
" You staying won't bring her back." Officer Nichols said sympathetically.
" So is that it? She's just gone?"
" Tabitha, I'll be honest with you. In cases like this… when people do things like this. Recovery is harder in the spring due to the weather and the animals. You know her mental condition better than I do. I can't explain why she did what she did. But until I find a solution, a suicide note, some intention, or body. She's not here. Tabitha, I'm-"
" Don't you fucking say sorry!" Tabitha stood up, screaming at Officer Nichols, throwing the plastic chair backward against the wall. " I should just look for myself."
"No!" Officer Nichols said momentarily, gripping the desk as his face hardened, then relaxed. Tabitha was caught off guard by Officer Nichols, who was normally composed. "Tabitha, I know this is unbearable. I've sat on this side of the desk and had these conversations. Trust me; I need you to be safe if I need your help later."
Tabitha nods, knowing Officer Nichols is right. She reaches down, picks up the evidence box of her sister's belongings, and leaves.
" Tabitha, if you're heading home, don't stop your car; just keep driving." Tabitha stops to look at Officer Nichols, feeling an eeriness to his words.
" Goodbye, Officer Nichols," Tabitha said as she closed the rustic wooden door behind her. She counted the tiles as she exited the West Virginia State Patrol Station. Placing her sister's belongings carefully in the back seat of her Jeep, Tabitha then sat momentarily behind the steering wheel, staring at the emblem. The familiar numbness washed over Tabitha as she pushed the start button. She pulled onto the highway, driving to the motel that had been home for the last month or so. Muted pop music accented the drive back as her mind raced with questions. Once inside the two-and-a-half-star motel room, Tabitha sat her sister's belongings on the corner table, crumbled onto the bed, and cried.
***
Tabitha wiped the steam from the slightly spotted mirror above the bathroom sink. The hot water from the shower felt good and loosened some of the stress from her body. Looking back at her, Tabitha's face was framed by damp curls around her shoulders. Her face marked the stress of the past month. Frowning, she examined the bags under her eyes; sleep had to come tonight. Walking into the living area, She changed into her favorite gym shorts and oversized sleep shirt. The alarm on her phone flashed "7:00 am," so she could drive home five hours after breakfast.
Tabitha hated feeling comfortable in this once strange room, but falling asleep was getting easier now. Her eyes closed slowly as the ceiling fan droned evenly. At first, nothing came in her dreams, but she let her guard down and slipped further into sleep.
As she dreamed of floating overhead like a bird of prey, Tabitha soared over the vast Remington National Park. The high noon sun bore down on the crisp woods, perfectly contrasting sky and forest. The heat of the sun felt good on her feathers. Distant cries rang out through the dream-like forest, catching her attention. Tabitha tilted her wings toward the screams, feeling a sense of familiar curiosity.
She now recognized the sobs and cries for help as she flew closer, her sharp eyes locked on her sister leaning against a large oak tree. She glided overhead without care, examining the situation below. Lisa clung to the tree, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning upwards. Lisa's face reflected desperation, looking for help in any direction. Tabitha lazily circles Lisa several times before perching on a sturdy branch higher in one of the oak trees. She watched Lisa intently with hunger. She bellowed deeply, hearing the unnatural sound she made, catching Lisa's eyes. Lisa's expression changed; she became calm, almost uncaring, as she stared back at Tabitha's form. Hunger grew exponentially in Tabitha as she spread her large wings. Her large eyes gaze down at Lisa before diving straight for her sister.
Tabitha jolts awake to the alarm on her phone flashing "7:23 AM." She breathes in sharply, shaking off the last horrible thoughts from the reoccurring nightmare. The strange details become more vivid each time. The lingering memories of folk stories her mother told sat in the back of her mind. In those stories, the dead would reach out in dreams as a matter of warning. Leaning back on the headboard, she searched for the advice her psychologist gave her. During their last session, Dr. Ryland explained dreams are a form of self-actualization of guilt. He told Tabitha that it was natural to feel responsible when losing a loved one in this manner.
Tabitha grumbled, lightly running her hands through her red hair; she pushed everything to the back of her mind. "Get it together!" She grumbled to herself. She pushed herself off the bed and got ready to leave. It was going to be a long trip home, and the only thing she could do now was leave things in the authorities' hands. Packing up was pretty easy since she only cycled through the outfits she brought. The local laundromat must have made a small fortune off her. Tabitha took one last look at the box of Lisa's belongings before throwing them in her duffle bag. She was thankful she didn't have to spend another night in this room.
***
Tabitha sat behind the wheel, waiting for the 90's model minivan to finish their order so she could grab a breakfast burrito on the way out. Considering the situation, the Deer Stop Family Restaurant did have a good breakfast. Finally, pulling up to the 70-style drive-in board, Tabitha rolled off the order she had been accustomed to. " I'll take a large iced tea with the double breakfast burrito meal and hash browns, please."
" Would you like some happy hot sauce with that?"
" That's fine, and a few ketchup packets as well."
" Your total is $8.79. Please pull around."
She pulled around to her window, flashed her debit card, got the receipt, and waited for her food. Luckily, the young woman serving her wasn't very talkative in the morning. The last thing she wanted was a conversation about the weather or meaningless small talk.
" Here's your large iced tea and breakfast meal. Ketchup and happy hot sauce are inside."
" Thanks," Tabitha said while mustering her best fake smile. The woman only smiled and nodded as the service window automatically closed. She pulled into the parking lot and dug into breakfast. Turning the radio to the weather, Tabitha sat back and enjoyed her meal. The local DJ read through the headlines, making nonpartisan comments about politics and grumbling about improving the economy. Tabitha powered through the updates of the "out-of-state woman" who'd gone missing. It was nice that the local radio station gave Lisa's name, description, and a missing person's number for sightings or leads. Tabitha even interviewed with the local news and radio stations, hoping it would bring Lisa home. But she soon found all it brought was a sorrowful look from the locals as she interacted with them in her day-to-day life.
Finishing the last of her hash browns, Lisa wadded up everything in the paper bag and threw it in the back seat. The 9 AM weather report said it was nothing but clear skies and sun the rest of the week. Tabitha flipped the radio over to the greatest hit station, pulled out of the parking lot, and began her trip home. She memorized the roads, every bend and turn in the early weeks as she frantically looked for Lisa. There's something hypnotic about the trees: the way they flow together. The trees' green tops and the oak trees' wide trunks were a relaxing view. Tabitha enjoyed the lazy s-curves of the road, bending and winding around the hills and the trees. The occasional farmhouse or field dotted the sides of the road as she made her way to the main highway.
The blur of a semi-truck snapped Tabitha's attention as she pulled up to the mouth of the highway. She had four and a half hours ahead of her, which would be a long ride. Tabitha pulled onto the highway and picked up speed, noting sparse traffic. She relaxed into her seat, letting her gaze gloss over the blur of green foliage. Without warning, Tabitha caught a large shadow from the corner of her left eye. When she registered the black feathery form, Tabitha tensed up and slammed on the brakes as it swooped across the vehicle's hood. Quickly, she pulled the car safely off the road. She couldn't determine exactly what it was, but it was bigger than any bird she'd seen. It was a bird, right? Tabitha turned off her Jeep and grabbed the keys and cell phone. Standing before the Jeep, she looked over the grill to see if she made contact with the entity.
Bewildered, she scanned the tree line, spotting something in the distance. Sitting in the clearing of the large oak forest was an enormous black owl. It stared intently at Tabitha with bright, shiny yellow eyes. She pushed the lock button on her keys, causing the jeep to beep securely. She turned, looking across the open field, an enormous black owl perched in the upper branches of an old oak tree. Each step she took away from the road piqued her curiosity. Soon, Tabitha stood in the middle of the open field, staring intently into the eyes of the enormous owl.
The horn of a passing semi-truck blared, pulling Tabitha's attention away from the mysterious large creature. She looked back and saw that she had walked farther away from the Jeep than she had thought. She glanced back to the forest line only to see the enormous owl was deeper into the woods than before. She narrowed her vision to find the two large, bright yellow eyes staring back. Had it moved? The day's stress, care, and worry suddenly poured out of Tabitha. It was replaced by only curiosity and overbearing tranquility. She warmly smiled for the first time in months as her feet pulled her further into the woods.
Chapter 2
The tug of gravity pulls Tabitha to her senses as her body reacts, falling forward. Her arms thrust forward, bracing for impact. Water rushes around her face as she struggles to get her bearings. Quickly, Tabitha pushed herself up in the ankle-high stream she fell in. The haze slowly clears from her mind as she stares at the muddy water. The dull ache throbs up her legs. Tabitha can smell the sweat from her clothes. Her face contorted in panic as she quickly stood up in the water, looking for her cell. Thankfully, the device was still in her pocket, dry and unscathed.
"One o'clock. How can that be?" Tabitha says, slowly looking up from the screen to see the vast, dense West Virginia forest encompassing her view. She shakes her head back and forth with disbelief. A smile gently spreads across her face, with the last bit of tranquility leaving her body. How did I get out here? Her breathing becomes faster as her pulse begins to quicken. I'm in the forest. I'm all alone—just like Lisa!
"NO, NO, NO, NO! THIS FUCKING CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME!" Tabitha screams into the void of trees. Her eyes well up with tears as she crumbles to her knees, gripping her phone tightly to her chest. Her sobs ring out through the thick oak trees. Her breath slows a little as she regains her composure. She begins to search her mind for anything. What is the last thing I can remember? The image of the black shadow crossing her vision while driving flashes into her mind.
"Okay, I got out of the Jeep, the…then what?" Tabitha says, trying to refresh her memories. She thinks her memory is not just gone; it's a black void in her mind. Complete blackness fills her mind right after remembering locking the Jeep and then turning to see the…
"Fuck I saw something. What was it!" Tabitha says, frustrated with her mind. She knew there must be a logical reason she was out here. Officer Nichols warned her not to go looking for her sister. She wasn't stupid; she just said that as a last-ditch effort to get him to do anything. Now I'm here.
"Run!" Tabitha heard Lisa's voice in her ear. Before she could turn around, she heard a loud bellowing coming from overhead. Fear shot down her back, reminding her of the nightmares she had over the past month. She shot forward full bore as something crashed to the ground behind her. Glancing back as she ran, a black mass of feathers convulsed between the broken branches of the trees. Its slick black feathers rippled across its surface as its bones crackled and flesh tore. Its body contorted and twisted from the shape of an owl to something bigger.
"Run, Tabby! Don't let it catch you!" Tabitha pushed forward, hearing Lisa's scream beside her face. Her breath burned in her chest, and she moved past the old oak trees bent over the creek bed. Her feet slammed rapidly, splashing along the side of the creek. Another loud bellow comes from behind as the trees bend and break to the force behind her. A small opening in the rocky creek bed catches her sight from the left. She dives into the crevasses, not caring where the fathoms lead. Tabitha tumbles in the pitch black, taking scrapes and sharp jabs from the rocks as she tumbles further into the void.
She finally tumbles to a stop on the sandy, wet floor of the cave. Her body aches from the sudden burst of exhaustion. The cool water running around her body from the creek is soothing despite her bumps and bruises. Pushing herself up, she scoots out of the water. Feeling her way forward, she finds a dry spot to collect herself. Quickly pushing her hand into her pocket, she finds her phone undamaged.
The sound of footsteps pushing against the creek fills the void around Tabitha as the light steps move closer to each other up the underground creekbed. She slowly removes her cell from her pocket and then shines the camera light toward the sound. A pair of scratched and bruised pale bare legs hold up a frail form in front of her in the creek. She wears the darkness as a shroud with nothing else to clothe her. Tabitha froze, not wanting to shine the light further in the pale form before her.
"Tabby, turn your light off. You need to save your battery." Tabitha turned off the light and then rushed forward, embracing Lisa—the how or why didn't matter, only the now. The pale form hugged her tightly. Tabitha felt her cold, bare skin. The darkness couldn't hide the feeling of the marks across her back and torso.
"Lisa, I'm-"
"Hush! I don't have much time. This wasn't your fault! I'm with Mom and Dad now. You have to survive, Tabby! Listen. Wait until the sun shines through the cracks, making a trail out. Follow it down the creek until you come to the opening. You'll see a large hill you hike up for a cell signal. And remember…If you can't see it… It can't hurt you. I love you-"
Tabitha stumbled forward before catching herself. The void in front of her arms was only filled by cool air. She looked up and noticed a faint glimmer of light pushing through the ceiling. She sat down, relaxing against the limestone wall of the cave, waiting for the trail of light to form.
***
After a few hours, the light shining through the cracks of the cave ceiling was bright enough to lead Tabitha to the other side. She stepped onto the creek bed, thankful for the sun hanging lower in the sky. Scanning the sky, Tabitha saw only a few clouds. The foothills of Appalachia backdropped the forest as she scanned for the hill. Her eyes found the trail leading up the steady slope of an impressive hill. The top of the hill was bare. Part of the hill must have sheared off in a landslide, leaving the top void of trees and a jagged cliff face. Tabitha started her hike up the back of the hill. She was careful to stay under the heavy canopy of the old trees, hopefully avoiding the creature's eyes.
She did her best to quiet her mind while hiking up the trail. Come on, almost to the top, then I can call 911, she replayed repeatedly in her mind. Her adrenaline made up for the lack of food since morning. She drank some water from a clean spot in the creek. She was placing her bet on rescue rather than worrying about the water.
Leaning against one of the trees, Tabitha took out her cell and measured the signal.
"Damn it, nothing!" She swore under her breath. She listened nervously and cautiously peered her head out from the tree line. Standing at the tree line, the cell phone still had a low signal. She pushed her anxiety down with a swallow and slowly stepped forward onto the bare rock. Tabitha was now out in the open. She walked with the cell phone pointed upwards, measuring the signal. Within three feet of the cliff face, her signal bar punched up to full. Tabitha began to punch in the numbers just as a pair of large yellow eyes appeared. She felt her legs become weak, and her vision blurred as the creature snared her in its gaze.
Tabitha ducked, missing the giant owl's claws as it swooped for her. She squinted her eyes shut, momentarily breaking the hold of the infernal beast as it crashed to the ground, tumbling down the path of old trees. On her hands and knees, she tucked the dialed phone back into her pocket. She heard the creature's loud bellowing, followed by the snapping of bone and flesh ripping. It was changing its shape to finish her off.
Tabitha tried to get up, but the flash of its eyes did something to her. Her legs were numb, her stomach was in knots, and she could barely put a few thoughts together.
"If you can't see it, it can't hurt you." Tabitha heard clearly in her left ear. She quickly pushed herself into a sitting position and fumbled for the key chain in her right pocket. Pulling the long chain of keys, luck charms, and keepsakes, her father's Swiss army knife dangled at the end. She slowly opened the half-inch blade. Her body wholeheartedly rejected her plan and tried to fight her. Every internal warning system sounded as her body fought against her as she brought the blade against the corner of her left eye.
She didn't know if she could do it until the creature bellowed in her direction. With one quick motion, the half-inch blade sliced across her left eye. The world dimmed and then went black on her left side. Behind her, the beast's thundering gallop was getting closer. Tabitha plunged herself into total darkness with the last bit of her strength. Her hand gripped tightly around the bloody knife as she folded forward onto the ground. She could feel herself weeping blood. She squinted, doing her best to stem the tide of blood loss.
A large feathered paw drove into Tabitha's right side, flipping her onto her back. She lay still as the hulking creature stood over her. It remained motionless, and Tabitha was confused about why it didn't move or bite her. Then she started to giggle, just a little at first. Then, laughing madly into the creature's face as it growled back at her. She could not see it; she couldn't see anything. Her mind couldn't be eaten!
The creature roared into Tabitha's face while plunging one of its sharp claws into her shoulder. Tabitha screamed in pain, slashing the knife downward. The blade hit something soft, and she ripped the blade down, rending whatever she had hit on the abomination. A bright yellow, foul-smelling liquid gushed in a torrent over Tabitha's face. She turned to cough, having swallowed a portion of it. The creature reared back, squealing in pain. Its hind leg came down hard on Tabitha's leg, snapping her tibia. She jerked her leg up, causing the creature to tumble forward and fall over the edge of the cliff side.
Tabitha heard the creature crash below at the base of the hill. A large dead tree speared the creature through its chest. Tabitha could hear the labored whines of the creature as its cries became weak and slowed. A wave of sickness hit her as she rolled over and vomited. The foul smell drenched her. She did her best to focus, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the phone. By memory, she typed in the unlock pin. She held her breath and placed her thumb where the call button should be.
She could hear the call being made then, "911. What is your emergency?"
"Please help me! A bear has attacked me, and I can't see. I think I am on a hill."
"Ok, ma'am, stay with me! Do you know where you are located?"
"No, I'm lost. Please send help."
"It's okay. Stay with me on the phone, and I'll use the cell signal to try to find you."
"I'm on top of one of the hills. I think I am lying on a bare roc-" Tabitha slipped unconscious with the cell still tightly in her hand. Her body began to tremble and convulse.
"Ma'am! Ma'am! Stay with me. I have help on the way."
Chapter 3
A young man in military fatigues frantically compiles images and reconnaissance data from his drone feed. Confirming his hunch, he commands the winged surveillance drone to make a hard left and send a live video feed. His eyes widened as he saw a large owl-shaped shadow crash onto the top of a hill. He watches in awe as the sleek black owl twists and shifts into something much larger, like a grizzly. As the drone turns, he sees a woman at the cliff's edge trying to steady yourself on her hands and knees.
He bolts up from the command module, jotting down the drone's coordinates on one of the printouts. The drab government-issued office motif for the watch station blurs in the corner of his eye as he rushes down the hallway to the watch commander's office.
"Sir, recon has eyes on AMOS! And it's feeding!" the man said, swinging the heavy wooden door open. He took the hastily compiled file and pushed it forward to the commanding officer.
An older, tanned man quickly stands, reaching for the files. His brow furls, seeing his charge is awake. "Keep eyes on it! Go Adams!" The young man nods, turning on his heel and bolting for the drone command module. As his office door slams shut from the subordinate officer, he grabs his headset and frantically dials the closest military outpost to the coordinates.
"Hello, Sergeant Klein; this is Agent Smith of Black Watch outpost 7948! Shadow is active, code Alpha, Mike, Oscar, Sierra. The coordinates and data package have been sent. A civilian is on the ground; deploy strike-and-rescue ASAP.
"We'll be up in five, Agent Smith! The line cuts as Agent Smith closes out the call on his headset and rushes to the door. The normally quiet watch station buzzes alive, with personnel flooding the central command station. The background echoes resource allocation calls, frantic typing, and the hum of cold computers warming up.
"Adams, get our eyes back on Amos!"
"Coming back around in 30 seconds." Thirty sets of eyes stare at the three giant screens, anxiously waiting for the drone feed to clear the bank of trees. The camera clears the tre top to see the giant feathered grizzly rear back slinging its massive head away from its prey. Its large yellow right eye spews bright yellow liquid all over the red-haired woman and the cliff face. The giant feathered grizzly missteps, crushing the woman's leg and causing the creature to tumble over the cliff face.
"Fuck!" Agent Smith yells in horror as he watches AMOS fall four stories, impaling a sharp, 3-meter-tall log lodged in the boulders. The command center freezes wide-eyed at the flailing dying creature on screen. Agent Smith pulls his cell out quickly and dials.
"Klein, Scrub the current request! AMOS is down! Switch to rescue and harvest now!
"What, someone took out AMOS?"
"YES! It's at the bottom of the cliff, bleeding out essence! The woman is covered in it as well. Clean as much of it off her as possible before you take her to the ER.
"Understood!"
Agent Smith, in a rage, slings his phone straight forward, connecting with Private Adams's skull. Adams flinches at the sudden impact of the hard plastic and covers his head. Agent Smith grabs the table in front of him and flips it over, sending the computer equipment crashing to the government-issued tiled floor.
"A two-year cycle gone! All that essence is gone! Now I have to wait another 24 months for AMOS to resurrect!" Agent Smith screams, causing the rest of the staff to recoil away in fear.
"Jones!" Agent Smith says sternly, turning to a petite woman on his left. She stares at him, pleading.
"Yes Sir?'
"Get Officer Nichols on my office line. That fuck up has some explaining. He should have told us AMOS was awake."
"Right away!" Jones quickly sits back down and begins dialing Nichols, thankful she doesn't have to deal with Agent Smith further. The command center quickly shifts gears as Agent Smith returns to his office.
***
Two Weeks later…
"Tabitha… Tabitha… This is Doctor Wilhelm. Wake up." The kind older gentleman said as they gently nudged Tabitha in her hospital bed.
"Where am I?" Tabitha asked, waking from what felt like years of sleep. She sat up, the world still pitch black, but an odd sense of the world around her seemed to hum just behind her eyes.
"You're in the hospital, dear; you scared us. Do you remember anything?" He said as he sat down on the side of her bed.
Tabitha thought for a moment the last parts after she slashed her eyes were a blur. She remembers people yelling and the sound of two or three helicopters over her. " No, it's really all just a blur."
"Well, it's probably for the best. You had some very serious injuries. The first night, we honestly didn't think you would make it. Then…" The doctor trailed off with a concerned expression, not knowing how to explain things further.
Tabitha felt his pulse quicken somehow. She didn't understand it but fully felt or sensed the doctor beside her. She sensed the two other nurses standing at the end of the bed. Her body didn't hurt. She felt great. She felt hungry.
"Doctor, you said had. What happened to my injuries?" She said calmly, trying not to startle the old doctor further.
"Well, Tabitha, it's the closest thing to a miracle I've ever seen. You had violent seizures from the minute you hit the entrance of the ER. We couldn't even set your leg. The medications we gave you had a minimal effect, and you thrashed so much that we had to restrain you. Then, the early morning check-in found you in a deep sleep. All but your eyes were completely healed. So we switched gears to support care and treated your eyes the best we could." He said, watching her reaction.
Tabitha leaned back in her bed, taking in the wild account. "Do you know how I healed so quickly?"
"What happened to you is beyond all scientific reason. A miracle is the only way the staff and I can explain it. I know you have been through a lot, but I want to check your eyes."
"Thank you for all your help, Doctor Wilhelm." She said, sitting up in bed.
"You are most welcome, dear. Now I am going to unwrap your eye-dressing. Hold still, please." he said as he reached up and pulled on the bandage tape. Tabitha felt a quick tug and felt the bandages loosen from around her head. The doctor slowly unwrapped the bandages. The doctor's brow wrinkled as he examined the two large black scabs covering Tabitha's eyes.
"Tell me if this hurts at all, ok?"
"Yes, doctor." She relaxes as the doctor's gloved fingers pass over the scab. He pushes and gently tugs at the side of one, and it starts to lift. He pulls on the scab more, and Tabitha begins to sense the light as it hits her eyelid.
"Oh, I can sense the light, Doctor Wilhelm!" She said, smiling.
"Wonderful! Nurse Allen, please hand me some saline solution. I think a little water will loosen these right up. Hold still; this may feel cold," he said as he reached for the solution. She felt the cool liquid flush over the left eye, then the right. The scabs fell away with a gentle tug from the doctor. She could see the light shine through her eyelids. She grinned widely, happy to have some form of sight left.
"Please open your eyes for me," he said as he sat back on the bed. Tabitha slowly opened her eyes. The flood of light was almost too much, causing her to squint. After a few moments, she adjusted to the fluorescent lights. Three figures began to take shape in front of her. First, the distinguished older features of Doctor Wilhelm came into view quickly, followed by the brunette and blonde younger nurses standing at the end of the bed. Suddenly, her vision snapped into place, crisp and clear.
"I can see perfectly! This is amazing! Thank you, Doctor Wilhem!" she said, turning to look directly into his eyes, but he stared back at her unmovingly.
"Doctor Wilhelm?" she said as her expression became more worried. Doctor Wilhelm just sat staring, intensely focused on her eyes. His expression was overbearingly calm. She glanced at the nurses, rigidly staring back at her with trapped, calm expressions. Doctor Wilhelm began to twitch slightly. It traveled from the base of his spine out to his limbs, finally convulsing.
"Doctor Wilhelm, are you okay?" Tabitha yelled as the doctor began to have a seizure and fell on top of her bed.
"Help Him!" She screamed at the two nurses only to see both of them crumble to the tiled floor. One of them bashed her head off the bed frame. Tabitha recoils back from Doctor Wilhelm in terror as he starts foaming at the mouth. She climbs over the bed rail and hits the tiled concrete floor with a thud. Her adrenaline surges as she bolts for the door, looking for help.
At the entrance of her hospital room, she sees another nurse leaving the adjacent room. "Please, my doctor and staff need help!" As the male nurse turns to see Tabitha, he suddenly goes stiff before collapsing into a violent seizure, spilling his cart over with him.
"What's happening!" Tabitha screams, thinking something is in the air, or everyone has come down with something. A pair of security guards round the corner, hearing the screams and commotion.
"Ma'am, are yo-" The guard freezes mid-stride as he makes eye contact with Tabitha. Both men start to convulse and topple over, thrashing violently on the hard tile.
"No, no, no, no!" Tabitha yells as she darts into the women's bathroom, a few doors up the hall. She runs in, terrified of the situation. She approaches one of the sinks, bracing herself against the cool porcelain. Her stomach turns, and she dry heaves in the sink. She steadies herself while turning on the cold water. Leaning in, she takes a drink. As she looks up, a glint of two yellow eyes catches her. Tabitha stumbles backward on reflex. Then, she sees her reflection in the mirror. Two completely bright yellow eyes stare back at Tabitha. She screams at herself in the mirror, not feeling hungry anymore.
The end.
I will

I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.

I believe that I’m still in pain after taking laxatives is because there is still gas stuck in me. How could I get this gas out/ are there any other explanations? Thanks

I am hypersaliving at this very moment, as I write this; which is counterintuitive because I actually have trouble secreting saliva. But it feels so runny, so thin, that I can't stop thinking about it and secrete more while at the same time my entire mouth feels dry. This happened to me about ten years ago, also due to anxiety. It lasted a few days and then it stopped.
For two days now I have been having panic attacks because I am afraid of applying a toothpaste to my teeth, which has a lot of fluoride and is acidic, and makes me salivate when I use it. And I thought, what if I never stop salivating again? What if this toothpaste causes damage to my salivary glands? This paste can only be used for 45 days. The dentist told me to apply it locally as a topical on cavities, without spitting. More than 45 days have passed, and she has told me to continue using it; that nothing bad is going to happen to me. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm scared.
I have been suffering from panic attacks for years. The thing is... Something happened almost 10 years ago. I was harassed by a college classmate who wanted to have a romantic relationship with me and I had to drop out of college. It's been very difficult to me to carry on with my life, and it has worsened with the confinement of the pandemic. I have many more anxiety symptoms than before.
I can't afford therapy. I don't have the money, and I can't get it; It's just not an option for me.
And the thing is... I lost the friendship of a man I loved after I leaving school. I loved my friend deeply; not just as a friend. But I had to stay away from him and all my college classmates so that my stalker wouldn't know anything about me.
Last year I wrote to him and confessed my feelings. I still loved him and had never told him about it. He rejected me because he is in a relationship. He didn't tell me that he had a girlfriend. I found out because he made a profile public on a social network a few days after I wrote to him. It almost seems like he had done it on purpose, so that I would find out that he had a partner because he didn't dare tell me. He doesn't have photos of her, but a girl's comment on his profile caught my attention; and upon seeing hers, and seeing them together (they seemed more like friends than a couple) I found out that he had been dating her for six years, shortly after I left university and stopped talking to him.
In his response to the message I wrote to him, he told me that he felt that I had used him in the past. Its what he thought, because I didn't wanted to keep in touch when I left college.
I have to say that we are from different countries, and that he found out from friends in common that I had drop school. We weren't talking at that moment because he had gotten angry with me for some stupid teenage thing. He wrote to me when he found out that I had left school. He wanted to keep in contact, but I told him that I preferred not to; I couldn't give him any more explanations.
In conclusion, in the message he wrote to me last year he asked me to stay out of his life. He also told me that he regretted not having had the opportunity to have closure with a hug and some tears that he was now shedding.
It was enough. I couldn't help myself and wrote to him again to tell him what I had kept secret all this time. I told him that I had been harassed; I told him that the man could have killed me, and I confessed that he (my friend) had hurt me by hiding his relationship with his girlfriend from me. And I pointed out different things that he said in his response that were unfair, just to hurt me. Then, I blocked him from everywhere.
A few months later I couldn't resist the temptation of seeing his and his girlfriend's social networks. Hers were now in private mode. I imagine he convinced her to put them private because he thought I was the kind of person who would try to contact someone's SO to talk to try to split them up. I'm not that kind of person! I also saw how he was showing to the world that he led a great life, and that he was happy. I felt crushed. And I wrote to him again to beg him to stop torturing me. And he did it.
It's been a year since this, and I have all kinds of anxiety symptoms; palpitations, tachycardia, hyperventilation, nausea, variations in blood pressure, and now hypersalivation.
I miss him a lot. And I hate him so much for hurting me and wanting to hurt me after I told him I was harassed by a classmate. I just want this pain to end. I would like to get out of my body and stop feeling all this anxiety, these symptoms that only stop when my attention is focused on something new, or when I manage to vent and cry.

Didn't circ either of two kids nor 6&8. Based on friends, articles, and a advice from a pediatric urologist who said there was no medical reason to do it. Just cultural. Was on fence so just didn't do it. Felt it was right.
My first kid had other complications at birth so I didn't want to add yet another thing and was on the fence. Fast forward he is 4 and needs an emergency circ due to BXO. Two pediatric urologist confirmed. He couldn't pee without screaming or writhing in pain. It was so traumatic. Even years later now he still talks about it. For a few years he cried and wanted his penis to grow back. I did and do feel awful. It was so traumatic.
Now my other son, we also didn't circ, same original reasons. And we didn't want to do his just because his brother has an issue. That said he sometimes gets red and swollen and we have to go to urgent care, sometimes antibiotics for infection. Sometimes the cause was because soap got into it. Other times we have no idea.
I am cut. So I don't know exactly how to help. The doctors always said not to do anything different except gently pull and wash with water around the tip with a mild soap. We use no soap at all. He is almost 7 and doesn't retract at all. I am concerned for him because four times in the last two years we've had to bring him in. I always ask him " how is little guy doing? " To check in on him and his penis health. I remind him often at shower or bath time (2-3x per week) to gently wash his penis. I tell him to keep it dry after peeing by wiping or shaking well.
He has been to his pediatrician who knows the full story of his older brother and he says everything is fine. I on the other hand want to be sure I am doing everything I possible can to help him. In the US we've lost the cultural knowledge how to handle it I believe. I tried to do the right thing for them both. I feel like a failure for my first kid and have spent time in therapy trying to get over it but I'm really good at beating myself up.
I am worried my shame will spill over to my kids but I do my absolute best to hide it. That was a lot of context and perhaps over explanation but it was a bit cathartic to get this all out there. I don't really post much. One strange thing about uncircumcised health is you can't really Google "care for childs uncircumcised penis" with any good results or maybe getting flagged. I feel lost and could really use some clarity and support and know how to best help my second kid. And now they are different too and I do not look forward to them fighting or leaking info about each other when they get older.
Short ask is, how do I help my kid stay healthy? Thank you in advance.

Inspired by a writing prompt. I figured I'd take a crack at a fantasy litRPG. If you like it, and if you like more frequent, shorter chapters, thenet me know. I mostly use this as a second account to try out ideas.
I woke up with a pounding headache, as if I had been beaten over the head with a mallet. The first thing I noticed was the smell of mildew and dust assaulting my senses, and the dim light cast down by a single, rusted chandelier swinging gently side to side. There was no noise, no signs of life, but plenty of inhabitation: stained cots and bunks, dirty dishes strewn about, and an old longsword leaning on some lockers placed next to the only exit in the room. I stood up and groaned as I stretched and popped my back, a disgruntled growl escaping my thin lips. I didn't usually growl like that... Did I growl like that? I had no idea. It was all fuzzy, and I couldn't really make out who I was, where I was from, or even a name. At points I could almost imagine something, a name starting with an M, but it dissipated as fast as I had imagined it, as if it was being kept from me.
I thumped my scaly tail against the floor in agitation as I looked around some more. There was nothing that really made this place stand out from some poorly-kept cellar or prison cell. The more I noticed, however, the more I was starting to believe that I was in the latter: there were no glass dishes, merely wooden bowls and pewter utensils, and the cots seemed to have been used by many. No food, no furniture beyond that, just a bucket in the corner that I really didn't want to inspect and some lockers that could have contained anything. The door was a heavy iron rectangle with a barred semicircular window from which no light appeared to escape from, and beyond that was unknown. I was alone here, utterly alone.
I walked up to the door and attempted to open it, but there was no handle or wheel to interact with, nor was there anything else that could feasibly open it. I slammed my broad shoulder against it, only to hiss in pain as my shoulder ached. The door did not budge. I tried again, with a shout, and while the door did not budge the room seemed to shake just a little, as if I had some kind of immense strength. Something from the lockers fell down and hit the floor, shattering and causing me to jump. I spun around, claws extended (claws?) and growled at whatever made that noise, only to see what remained of a mirror that I knew hadn't been on the lockers before scattered across the ground.
I grumbled and sighed, walking over to clean it up so as to not step in it later like a fool when I suddenly saw my reflection… if it was even mine to begin with. I wasn't what I was supposed to be, although I didn't know exactly what I was supposed to be, but I knew that it wasn't this. My skin was made of thick, silver scales and my eyes were a bright deep marine blue through with pitch black slits in the center. My pointed maw was filled with razor-sharp teeth, and my head was adorned with long and curly horns. I also realized I was wearing nothing but a pair of linen undergarments, which was a bit annoying.
Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. This wasn't the person I was supposed to be, I knew that, but I also couldn't remember who I was before and that scared me even more. All that was left of my identity was my apprehension, my reflection, and the constraints of this room.
I gulped and turned back to the door, eyes darting to and fro. Then, as I placed my hand on the wall next to the door absentmindedly to balance myself as I could feel my head spin. Then I felt it; a piece of paper stuck to the wall with a simple dagger. Now I really knew that the paper or the knife hadn't been there before, and all these little details were starting to freak me out. I yanked the knife out of the wall and held the paper in my head. Before I could even read the note, the small hole in the wall quickly closed up as if the whole room was alive, which it absolutely could have been for all I knew. I turned back to the note and read it, eager to see what it said.
Don't open the door.
That's all it said: No name, no location, and no explanation or details. Just this vague warning. I sighed and set it down before staring at the door again, perplexed. Nothing about it changed.
Then I looked at the note again, hoping to see some kind of change, maybe some kind of guidance. To my surprise, it did.
Open the locker.
Now I knew that I wasn't imagining things: this place was changing, and maybe it was responding to my psyche. It wasn't the craziest idea. Where am I? I thought, hoping to try and direct my thoughts towards the note. I looked back down and noticed a minor change.
The Labyrinth. Open the locker.
The Labyrinth? What the hell did that mean? What labyrinth? That didn't answer any questions I had. Where is the labyrinth?
It is here. Open the locker.
Okay, so the note was a smartass, that was good to know. I let out a resigned sigh and stepped over to the grimy lockers next to the door, the pair of them stuck together with rust and other grime. This whole room made me feel dirtier than it had any right to, especially with the cool, damp stone floor somehow feeling sticky against my raptorial feet. With enough force and a frustrated grunt, I yanked the first locker open, revealing something I hadn't expected: clothing. Carefully and intentionally folded clothing. I quickly began pulling it all out, and organizing the haul. There was a wool undershirt, a patched gambeson, stitched leather trousers, socks and hose, and worn rawhide boots. That's what excited me the most: the cold and the dampness of the room was starting to seep into my bones and I wanted something to cover up with immediately. I set down the note on top of the locker and quickly dressed, then searched the other locker.
In the other was more useful supplies, but of a different nature: a large traveling pack, a faded breastplate, a plain bronze necklace, a hide-covered heater shield, a short bow along with a leather quiver of barbed arrows, and a flanged mace. There was also the longsword next to the lockers, which I would be keeping: it'd rust away here if I didn't take it. Inside the sack was some carefully packed rations, mainly of salt pork, hardtack, a quart of cheap ale, a tin of lard, a big slice of hard cheese, and some dried apple. It wasn't anything to write home about, but it was good and that was much better than the alternative. There was also a bedroll attached to the bottom, and a little mess kit hanging from the side, stored in a leather tub.
I dressed fully and strapped on the armor before consulting the note again. Why am I here?
To be tested.
I didn't like that. I didn't like that at all. I didn't feel like being tested. Why am I being tested?
It has been written.
That didn't explain anything. I simply balled my free fist, my new claws digging into my scaly palm. What now.
Open the door.
“But I… can't,” I spoke as I turned around to the sealed door, only to find that it had changed, revealing a metal pressure wheel I needed to spin to unlock it. The barred window was still pitch black, but it was a start. I quickly jogged over and gripped the wheel, easily opening it and revealing a hall that was pitch black. After a few seconds, wall sconces lit up in rows down the hall ominously, as if beckoning me further. I lifted up the note to consult it again, but it felt weightier in my hands, as if it too had changed. When I looked at it, it had transformed into a thick, leather bound notebook, and attached to the front was an ink quill for writing. I opened the book and looked at our entire conversation, including my thoughts, inscribed within the first few pages in elegant cursive, all the handwriting identical. I lifted the quill and gulped before writing one last question.
What will happen to me?
My handwriting was identical to the rest. In seconds, the notebook responded, my hand moving without my control or consent and scribbling down a response in my exact same handwriting.
You will be tested. Do not fail.

Hi all - a while ago I posted about a painful lump and my frustration with imaging appointment wait times. I'm back, still frustrated. Back in February, I noticed a painful lump and swelling in my left armpit, close to my breast. It feels about the size of a quarter, but oblong. Very painful to the touch, slightly movable, and the size does not change with my cycle. My PCP felt the lump and ordered an ultrasound and mammogram. I didn't end up receiving the mammogram because the imaging center said I was too young, but I did receive the ultrasound of my left breast and axilla. The Ultrasound report came back BIRADS 1, which I was relieved but surprised by. The US images show what looks like a lesion of some kind in the armpit, along with measurements. The lump is still visible and palpable, and it has gotten more painful as time has gone on. I visited my PCP again to discuss the US results an the fact that I was still in a lot of pain. My PCP doesn't think it's an infection or ingrown hair because it's been constant for 4 months now (and it feels "deeper" than an ingrown would be), but she also didn't offer an explanation on what it could be. She didn't look at the actual US images, just the paper report. She ordered a breast MRI, but I couldn't get an appointment for a while.
I'm still dealing with so much anxiety over this, and I'm worried that the radiologist missed something. Has anyone else had something similar, where there is a palpable lump, but nothing shows up on imaging? I'm really discouraged and I'm imagining the worst case scenario.