Fun things to start on facebook

I’m a 15 year old guy and struggled with hating my looks for a good 2 to 3 years now. Basically from the moment I started becoming self aware about them. I could go on for hours about how my features don’t compliment each other and are shit even on their own but I want to focus on asking if there is any way to not hate them preferably as soon as possible because I currently can’t stand any picture or reflection of myself. As the title implies, there was a period of time when I didn’t hate myself. It was around two months long ranging from January to March of this year. The reason for this sudden boost originated from a girl actually asking ME out which never ever happened before and I highly doubt will ever again. I was trying my hardest to look good for years before that and now I felt like all the work was paying off. Like I actually was at least decently attractive. Well a month later she left which left me kind of sad for a little bit but luckily a have had many great friends who helped me get my mind off of such thoughts and enjoy life. Well in the past week or two I am starting to feel the same as I used to. I don’t like my hair anymore, I don’t like anything about my face nor body and there are a couple reasons for this in my opinion, these little moments that slowly added up to what I am feeling now. First is not talking with a lot of my friends as we used to. This happened pretty organically in the way that we just stopped texting and speaking to each other as much which I tried to change but my futile attempts were always met with extremely dry and uninterested responses. This left me with more time to think in loneliness. Second is a group of girls hysterically laughing as they saw my forehead. Now, I have a HUGE forehead and it’s probably my biggest insecurity. I hate that I can’t pull of any hairstyle that doesn’t cover it and that I have the most thin hair known to man so wind blows it off anyway. I want to try and have so many different cool haircuts that might suit me better but I’m forever stuck with just something that covers it (or at least attempts to). I’m also familiar with people making fun of my forehead, my friends have been doing it my entire life. I am by now used to getting asked to show my forehead about 3 sentences into meeting somebody as if I am some fucking circus animal showing off a funny trick. But I didn’t even know any of these girls and they were so open and unapologetic about it as if it was their right to laugh at me all they want. As if I wasn’t even worth them holding their laughter until I passed by. This makes me self conscious about my hair anytime the wind blows on it too hard (which is literally always, and I’m not exaggerating in the slightest. Other people’s hair can remain stationary as a rock in place while mine gets thrown around like I was in a middle of a hurricane. There isn’t even need for the presence of wind, the pure aerodynamic force my body produces by moving forward is enough to destroy my 30 minutes of work every morning. Next is a few of my friends taking photos of me without consent (this happened with multiple people around the same time without them even knowing the other exists). Even though I told them to stop multiple times. What added insult to injury is them then showing those photos to me and pointing out my insecurities. These photos now unironically haunt me and I even had to cut myself multiple times now, although with very shallow cuts to even be able to write this (Self harm is also not something very new to me). So anyway I’m not looking for glow up advice I’m not stupid enough to search for that in a community of bluepill cucks but I’m asking if there is a way to suppress these feelings until I somehow miraculously glow up to an insane level or get surgery.

My dad is on the cusp of Boomer and Gen X. We're staying in the same place right now because of a funeral this week.
My alarm goes off at 7 AM. I get up and head towards the coffee machine in the kitchen to start my morning. My dad starts pontificating about the Israel/Palestine conflict. (Note: Do you think he said good morning? Hello? Acknowledged me as a human at all prior to this? Points if you guessed NO!) I tell him I don't feel like I know enough about the situation to have an opinion as a means of sidestepping the conversation. (Which isn't strictly true; he knows I'm progressive and anti-war, so he was absolutely trying to have a go at me.) When that didn't work he starts yelling about how "all college students caught protesting should be fined and locked up!" That also didn't work and I kept on making my coffee. Finally he says something like "Palestine shouldn't have voted in terrorists if they didn't want to face the consequences!!" Which is WILD thing to yell at someone who had rolled out of bed ~45 seconds prior regardless of political affiliation.
So then I ask him point-blank, "Why are you yelling at me?" He mumbled that he's just 'passionate' and starts yelling some more. I still have not said a single thing about the conflict he wants to argue about. I tell him, "Hey Dad, I'm done with this conversation. I need to get ready for my day." This man looks me in the eyes as he talks OVER me about how I need to educate myself and not fall for 'liberal propaganda', and that I 'can't close my eyes to the evil Hamas is doing.'
I'm a trauma therapist. MY LIVELIHOOD IS HELPING PEOPLE NAVIGATE SOME OF THE EVILEST STUFF A PERSON CAN DO TO ANOTHER PERSON and yet I need to spend /more/ time ??? watching Fox News, I guess? It finally ended with me gentle parenting my own father. "Dad, what did I just say?" I think it stunned him a little, because he stopped talking and looked confused for a second before I was able to get out of there.
Why do boomers think we're all here to prop up their opinions at any and all hours of the day?

So around November, I (33F) was sitting in the living room with my mom, my sister-in-law and her mother, and we were talking about housecleaning. My mom mentioned she has thrown away a lot of my dad’s stuff without telling him. I know this is something that happens because my father hoards magazines, which cause a lot of stress and dust and clutter in the house. My mom also has a lot of things but she at least tries to go through them — my father does not unless under duress, and if he suspects you moved/threw away something of his he can get mean and accusatory. But he has so much he doesn’t keep track of it and often won’t know something is gone. So on some level I get it. I assumed this was an isolated thing but my SIL and her mom nodded and started talking about their own secret purges. I was pretty surprised by this and didn’t chime in, since my boyfriend and I didn’t live together yet. Fast forward to yesterday and I’m having dinner with my friend who is expecting a baby. She lives in a two bedroom condo with her husband, and she told me how recently they had started going through the second room, which has been turned into his office/seeming man cave. They’re doing this because they’re gonna need a nursery for the baby. She tells me that it was quite hard to get her partner to give things up and they only got through about a trash bag’s worth of things before they had to stop because it was too difficult to keep going. She then says she’s also gotten rid of a lot of his things without telling him, because he just won’t do it and he won’t miss them. At this point, I’m starting to wonder if a psychology study needs to happen here. The men I’ve asked about this all day they would be really upset if their partner did that. The women say they can understand it. Personally, I feel like it’s a bit of a breach of trust to just get rid of somebody’s things without at least talking to them first, but it also seems to me like there’s a respect/different views on how a house should be kept thing going on? Plus a dash of “ I asked you to do thiis thing/meet a need of mine and you turned me down about it so now I’m just going to do it in secret.” I don’t know guys — do you do this? What are the conversations around stuff management like in your homes?

For years now I have struggled with relationships with people. I was bullied in school and have severe social anxiety. Lately, I’ve tried several times to step out of my comfort zone and reach out to people, but each time I’m left feeling rejected when they don’t reciprocate. For instance, I felt like God was telling me to start a women’s Bible study. I asked all my friends on both Facebook and Instagram if anyone was interested in doing a Bible study with me and 3 people responded. Out of hundreds of “friends”. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel so ignored and rejected. Like no one truly cares about me. I deleted my Facebook and I’m just to the point where I don’t even want to try with people anymore because I constantly get hurt feelings. None of my “friends” care, no one from my church cares, just no one cares about me.

So if you've ever found yourself surrounded by the corpses of democracy's enemies, sitting against a rock during that brief lull between engagements, you've probably thought two things.
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1. "Did I have moment with M4 when they almost killed me with a cluster bomb and then I rescued them by shooting an explosive round at the stalker right behind them? Should we get married? How much do I get paid? Wait, are they even still alive?"
2. "Is that a Bile Titan in the distance?" (No, it wasn't... it was 37).

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I think, greenhorn divers, when you get to be at my level you've probably killed everything that can be killed, and even things you didn't think could be killed and yet... there's its corpse, right there and ready to be mounted on your destroyer if you can find a space big enough that other destroyers can see and marvel at your massive freedom points.
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Your finely honed liberty-defending skills have advanced to a point where it's not enough to just kill that bile titan. You've come up with new, exciting ways to kill that which threatens our way of life.
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From charger pinball, to hulk piloting, to "I bet I can kill that fabricator strider with an environmental hazard while filing my taxes blindfolded with a guitarhero controller played with my feet and if I take one hit, I quit the helldiver program, retire to mars, and start a yogurt business with my new spouse and my three auburn-haired children."
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But today, I realized something. Now, bear with me, this is gonna sound very traitorous and those who have fought and died along with me (sometimes caused by me) know that I am the ideal helldiver, always believing in truth, justice, and managed democracy. The bugs, bots, and whatever else will never break my love of Super Earth and our magnificent society.
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But... I had... an incident today... where I think, for the first time in the 15 minutes since I've been unfrozen...
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"I've killed enough."
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So, here's what happened. And we're about to get real meta here so bear with me. Now, I, like many of you (except for you. Yeah, you, specifically, you know who you are, you automaton spy) have people who share parts of what make up my DNA. Today, I had a very simple job. I was gonna pick up a package at an undisclosed location, and bring it to their dwelling.
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Seems simple enough, get the package, much like super samples. Dodge death at every corner, like every single bug planet ever. And then drop off the package like we're trying to erase Super Earth's classified data on bug planets. All the while, I'm thinking of all the ways I can show my appreciation of Super Earth and its way of life. Maybe I'll pay twice as much in my annual helldivers tax, just to show how much I appreciate our managed democracy. Nothing unusual yet.
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BUT THEN! As I open the door, hand off the package, I take a break by sitting down in their mess hall. Disgraceful, I know. As a Helldiver, I should be constantly on alert for the enemies of democracy. I've already reported myself to my democracy officer and he'll be deducting requisitions from my account as soon as he gets back from his vacation.
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Which is kinda what happened. So, I look around, see some new stuff but I then do a DOUBLE-TAKE because, I shit you not, one of their plants looked almost exactly like a Stalker's head, unfurling its neck frills before ripping my face off.
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Before my relative came in and asked: "What are you doing?" I had that plant in a chokehold, grabbing the butter knife to saw through the neck. I realized how weird this looked, so I used my helldiver education to come up with the perfect lie.
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"What are you doing?"
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"Uh..."
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I threw a stun grenade and jumped out the window while saluting a flag that their neighbor had propped up on the side of their home. It didn't resemble a super earth flag though, seemed like an unauthorized knockoff. I'll be reporting them after this log.
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And with my back to the ground, staring up at those blue skies almost the same color as our beloved super earth flag, I realized that I needed a vacation because I was about to decapitate an innocent freedom-loving plant (allegedly). So, I think I will be taking that shore leave that my crew has been begging for.
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They're like: "PLEASE, WE NEED A BREAK, WE'VE BEEN DOING BACK TO BACK MISSIONS FOR MONTHS!" Or at least, I assume that's what they were saying. Kinda impossible to hear them through the bulkhead separating the ship from the airlock, so I had to rely on lip reading through the viewscreen.
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But ya know, maybe those treasonous saboteurs had a point. Maybe, a short break is in order... if only to rest my weary hands long enough to recover, so that they can strangle the enemies of super earth more efficiently.
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Praise liberty and its glory, victory to Super Earth.

I've re-played the entire game after failing to beat the devil the first time. All i knew was that I had to say yes to the skeleton and nobody else to beat him. After getting the pacifist award and the game just abruptly ending on me, I did my research and learnt all about the ruby for the homunculus, the crusade and the strawberry plant for Kloc, and the final 5 step route to take after getting the torch so I could finally make it to Kloc's room and give that damned strawberry, and then teleported instantly back to the castle. All of that i did by around 1400 something. However, i started to get worried by around 1600 when i realized Kloc had never shown up once in my court to ask me any questions. I thought that it was odd, but hey ho, ive completed all the steps so I've no doubt that when the Devil finally comes in 1998, Kloc will finally show his head to save the day, right? Well, its 1968, and out of sheer curiosity I've just gone back into the dungeon , gone all the way back to Kloc's room, only for him to say "Still no strawberries then?" and kick me out. And with only 30 years left before the devil shows up, I'm completely screwed.
I've just spent all day replaying this game, just to resolve that complusive urge to know Ive finally beaten this thing, and now the game isn't even playing by its own freakin rules.
What am I missing here?
Did Kloc go back to the dungeon after I'd died, and I'd not realized for 500 years I'd actually needed to do the whole thing over again? Do I actually need to complete that entire series of tasks, all within one whole life? Cus thats insane. With the amount of randomization in the game, surely that must be practically impossible.
Or is the version of Reigns on Netflix simply a bit bugged / glitchy, and Kloc never appearing in my court even after I gave him the strawberries a fault of the programming/coding? Please give some words of guidance cus now honestly I'm kinda mad. I know a random strategy game I happened upon 5 days ago shouldn't have that much of an emotional stranglehold on me but it really does lol

My partner (we’re both women) will have been together for two years in August. She started a new career a year ago and has been completely stressed out with getting licensed. She also started therapy a little over a year ago and was diagnosed with BPD. She also struggles with body image (ED), ADHD, and depression. When we met she had just separated from her (now ex) wife. Who had had an affair on her and was (and still) in a relationship with the other woman. She told me that the sx, work, and finances became an issue in both of her failed marriages. My partner attempted to know she’s a workaholic and puts too much emphasis on work. Right now, she’s not making much money which is why she’s been more stressed out and overworking… because of this things have been really rocky bc most of the time she’s upset, annoyed and feels defeated and sometimes I get the blunt end of the frustration. And the other hard part is when she spirals with work, she spirals with her ED and gets hypercritical about her body. Which means we haven’t been having sx as much as I try to boost her confidence and tell her how beautiful she is, she doesn’t believe me. This has caused us to seek couples therapy. In beginning of our relationship we had amazing sx.. she’s the first women I’ve been in a relationship with. I never had a connection with anyone like that before. Sx to both of us (I thought) was really important and we loved that both of us had a high sx drive so I was confused as to why she would say she wife had an affair because she wasn’t “putting out.” But now I’m starting to see the pattern she’s taking about with not knowing how to balance and self regulate. She told me sx hasn’t felt good to her lately and all she thinks about is how stressed and disgusting she feels in her body and focused too much on the performance. Which I can tell bc the last few months have felt really off and forced and we stop bc it feels weird. I feel guilty about bringing up being unhappy with our s*x life bc she immediately gets triggered and shuts down and assumes I’m going to leave her like her last relationships. I don’t want to leave but I don’t feel as connected to her and feel rejected even tho I know it’s not her fault and she’s going through a lot… so maybe I’m in the wrong??? Am I being selfish?? My drive is so much higher and crave feeling wanted and the passion that we used to feel… it just isn’t the same and I’m waiting for something to change. I’ve brought this up a few times in therapy but she shuts down and then we often can’t move forward because she doesn’t know how to regulate. I want to be understanding and patient but I’m also unsatisfied and feel rejected. Any advice would help… thanks.

Let me start by saying my boyfriend (m22) and I (f22) live together , and have lived together for the past two years. Other than this, our relationship is perfect. He’s an amazing man, truly.
My boyfriend suffers from a chronic pain disorder and a chronic breathing disorder. When I met him, he wasn’t diagnosed with either of them. Along with his diagnosis came depression. During this time I really tried to help him. For a while I practically waited on him hand and foot. But for a while, it had been taking a toll on me and my mental health. I I was barely taking care of myself, and every aspect of my life was struggling consequently. So I seriously cut back on doing things. I made him start getting his own ice packs and heating pads. I made him start going to the store by himself to buy his medicine. I made him start getting food for himself occasionally. I still tried to help. I continued to be the one to schedule his appointments, gave him massages and helped in little things. It just stopped being every day. But the biggest issue is when I don’t do these things he lies in bed and whines in pain all night and it keeps me awake. And I feel awful just saying that because I really can’t even imagine how he feels. But I don’t know what to do. I’m stressed and overwhelmed and I don’t know how to help anymore. He feels like he needs me to do more, but taking care of him at this level requires so much emotional and physical energy that I just don’t have anymore. Am I wrong for ceasing to take care of him?

I am an upcoming 1st year college student, I am having trouble deciding between 3 schools: University of Connecticut, University of Arizona, and Spelman College. All three have very different cultures, experiences, and environments. All have a good program for my major, so I’m less concerned about that. But, I am more worried about choosing the wrong culture. I would say I am a very fun, but laid back person. I enjoy watching new movies and tv shows and reading. I also love to go out, get ready while playing music and chatting with friends, traveling, shopping, trying new places and exploring new cities, and am an avid sports fan (specifically football, soccer, and basketball). I know I want to attend somewhere with a spirited community, that is proud to rep their school! I am not very outdoorsy, but I will go on a walk or a hike and I love to ride my bike. Furthermore, I am a very transverse person, I like to have friends of all circles, regardless of race or gender. I am drawn to aspects off all schools because of these traits.
Thanks for reading! Any comments, suggestions, or even things to consider for this process and decision would be greatly appreciated!

first time poster— not a newbie to chronic illness. i have ulcerative pancolitis and have since i was 12, and with that comes complications and medications and persistent symptoms while still in medical remission. i’ve gotten comfortable and better at dealing with my illness— honestly, it’s a part of me now. just a part of the way i live, wouldn’t change it solely due to the normalcy.
my best friend has been my really close friend since freshman year of high school (we’re seniors now) and i wouldn’t change that ever! they like the same things as me, we bounce off of each other really well, and i just overall feel comfortable with them.
recently, they’ve been admitted into therapy and have gone through the diagnostic wringer. i’m no stranger to this— i’ve been in therapy constantly for about 6 years now. i’m also no stranger to diagnoses— i have GAD, MDD, and ADHD. we suspect some kind of trauma disorder— either just Adjustment Disorder or potentially C-PTSD, i don’t feel diagnosis is something i necessarily need to concern myself with now as it isn’t bugging me.
anyway, they’ve been diagnosed with OCD and Illness Anxiety, or Hypochondria. this was difficult for me— as i’ve always been their person to lean on for advice and support, but now it seemed to be more intertwined with my own feelings about illness. i’ve persisted though, and even though it seems trivial to me (as new pains pop up all the time for me, new diagnoses are like a mobile to me— they dangle around my head and life and will for the rest of it,) i understand how much this means for them.
when it was the chance that they were getting sick but they weren’t, that’s fine. when it’s been using a cane because they stepped on their ankle funny and don’t want to “damage it more,” i can understand that. but when it’s diabetes because they’re light headed, or cancer because that benign bump on their chest is aching some— that’s harder for me.
i. almost. died. from. my. disease. that’s how i got diagnosed— i’d bled out so much that they believed i wouldn’t have made it another day or two without immediate medical attention. this was extremely traumatic for me, not to mention the pain. or the not knowing what was happening to me. or the adjusting to being on medication for the rest of my life. etc, etc.
when they run to me for support with these huge ideas, i do what i do best and give them more plausible explanations for their symptoms. light headedness is a symptom of anxiety— same with that high blood pressure they’re hung up on. the aching of the small bump on their chest is harder, but they’re already waiting on a doctor to check that out. but they fight me on these things.
the constant insistence that something is wrong with them while they’re physically healthy just… hurts. it bugs me because i suffered like hell before anyone considered that i might be sicker than just the stomach flu. and they claim a minor symptom like that is just cause for an assessment for some chronic condition?
as well, the pain of them constantly running to me afraid. afraid of the way i’ve been FORCED to live my life. afraid that they might end up like me. afraid to be sick, meanwhile, i’m actually sick. my remission sure as hell doesn’t mean symptom free. i’ve got joint pain that no doctor has helped me with, i’ll live the rest of my life immunocompromised, and i have permanent dietary restrictions. and the iron deficiency anemia, and the barrage of tests and appointments, and the fact that people don’t fucking understand that i’m still DISABLED despite being relatively healthy (for now.)
i don’t know what to do— it’s starting to eat at me, and i don’t want to tell them that i can’t stand listening to it anymore. i have no idea. i’d like some ideas, please.

I have been following along on these posts and agree with many of the things written, however, I hope I can shed some light and offer a new perspective.
The Fab4 promote products that pay them. PERIOD.
They are business owners who make commissions from promoting products. They are no different than the salesperson at the electronic store or the department store you frequent, many people earn an income from commission. Even if the commission isn't paid directly to the salesperson, the stores often have a hefty markup of 50-60% to cover expenses and earn a profit (I worked in retail so I know this first hand.)
When you enter the car dealership or clothing boutique, the salesperson does not disclose they get a commission when you purchase one of their products. This is IMPLIED. The grocery store does not disclose the markup on their product. It is implied that they bought the product at one price and in turn sell it to you at a profit. This is the same for any online business (advertising guidelines aside). Just because there is no physical location, it does not diminish the fact that they are indeed a business.
For people who say they were misled or "dupped,"or feel frauded should have done their own research and used rational thought/common sense as no one puts that amount of effort into promoting products without compensation. This is how capitalism works. This is how the world works.
If you are going to get upset at these ladies for working, supporting their families and maybe even making an exorbitant amount of money, you need to get upset at EVERY salesperson and business owner in the world who earns a good/better than average income.
All that being said, where I do get upset is the mixed messaging and promoting one product one week and then a competing product the next week.
What I hope that these ladies learn from all of this is that integrity is everything. Do not promote something and say you love it, and it's the best thing ever, just to get sales.
Don't promote shit products that you haven't tested and tried. I too have purchased items they promoted, that did not live up to expectations and took it upon myself to return but would have appreciated a more honest review from them. There is a term called "buyers beware where the onus is on the buyer to make an informed decision before making a purchase. I have also purchased some phenomenal items and thank them for saving me so much time of having to search myself.
I've heard complaints on this forum that their followers are bots, or they have low engagement. I am a business owner who happened to get a few "free/not paid or sponsored" shoutouts from a few of them and my business sales increased dramatically. They have a major "influence" over many people. Unfortunately in my situation, the next month they chose to promote a competitor which negatively impacted my business, my mental health and my well-being, significantly. Their lack of awareness of the impact that their words have is completely unprofessional.
My point is engagement, likes and comments mean absolutely nothing. There are more lurkers out there who enjoy viewing IG but not engaging, but are willing to purchase the products being advertised.
To be honest, the title of influencer or content creator are incorrect, what these people are is "salespeople" who use IG and social media to sell products for a profit. Nothing more. They are not special nor are the celebrities. They are not meant to be relatable.
Complaining about the size of their homes, their expensive purses, or extravagant holidays is petty and screams jealousy. If following them makes you feel less, makes you feel inferior then unfollow them. It is not their responsibility to make you feel good. They are not role models, they are SALESPEOPLE. If you want to follow and poke fun, do so but do so knowing that words you choose to use hurt and have lasting effects.
Should the fab4 flaunt their wealth? Absolutely not but don't need to tear down successful women as it's hard out there to earn a living and they have found a way to do it successfully. Men don't do this to each other, why do women?
Can they improve? Yes!
Are they perfect? Absolutely not.
Hoping they learn from this forum and:
- show integrity
- be honest and transparent
- be humble and kind
- celebrate their wealth and success in private
- don't exploit their children for likes
- create a community, you have a platform to raise others up, not tear them down
- share local, not just those who pay you a commission, or give you free stuff
- don't beg for free stuff or codes
- don't blast or disparage others if they comment that they don't like your shoes or particular outfit
In the words of Michelle Obama.....When they go low, you go high.
This is a lesson for the fab4 and the many people in this forum. Life is too short for this level of negativity.
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Disclaimer: this post is about the Fab4 only. I am sure there are many other content creators/salespeople out there that give the whole industry a bad name and need to be called out for unethical behaviour but the Fab4 are mice nuts in comparison.

Idk what this is supposed to be? A rant? Idk. I’ve never had good luck with guys in general. Like the dating world hasn’t been too great for me. I’ve never even been hit on in public. I’m trying to work on my self esteem and self confidence but this shit really gets me down. Makes me feel ugly like no one wants me. Ever since elementary school I’ve been called ugly and I’ve had a major glow up. But gained some weight. So around 15-16 things started looking up in the dating world. But I’m not like other girls where guys just come up and ask for my number, or I get approached in public, I don’t even have guys who message me on fb or IG flirting or anything. I’m 29 now. I’ve never gotten any attention from men outside in public. It makes me feel like something is wrong with me. I’ve had 2 relationships both ended badly. But I still don’t feel wanted by men and I know my life shouldn’t revolve around men’s approval, I’ve tried to decenter men but it makes me feel lonely. Everyone around me has a partner. In the only single one it feels like.
So I messaged this guy this morning from a dating app that we matched with a couple years ago. We never met up and he moved to wherever he moved. Well I kept him on my socials because he never bothered me and so I figured it wouldn’t be a bad thing. I guess I was feeling horny and or flirty t this morning and I decided to message him like hey are you ever coming down to our town ever again? He said he’s thinking about it. And then he said “ I don’t mean to be rude but is the dating scene really bad down there? We never have met and you’re the only person from dating apps that’s still on my social profiles/snapchat. I’m here and all ears but I thought you’d be scooped up by now. “
And it really made me feel so embarrassed and desperate. It is really bad down here, literally. I just wanna cry.
And so many guys keep asking me “why are you still single? I would’ve thought you would have someone by now!” DUDE idk. 😐
I just feel stupid now. I mean obviously I’m gonna block this guy but this is really getting me down.
I’m trying to tell myself it’s really not me. But sometimes I do feel like it’s me.

My partner (we’re both women) will have been together for two years in August. She started a new career a year ago and has been completely stressed out with getting licensed. She also started therapy a little over a year ago and was diagnosed with BPD. She also struggles with body image (ED), ADHD, and depression. When we met she had just separated from her (now ex) wife. Who had had an affair on her and was (and still) in a relationship with the other woman. She told me that the sx, work, and finances became an issue in both of her failed marriages. My partner attempted to know she’s a workaholic and puts too much emphasis on work. Right now, she’s not making much money which is why she’s been more stressed out and overworking… because of this things have been really rocky bc most of the time she’s upset, annoyed and feels defeated and sometimes I get the blunt end of the frustration. And the other hard part is when she spirals with work, she spirals with her ED and gets hypercritical about her body. Which means we haven’t been having sx as much as I try to boost her confidence and tell her how beautiful she is, she doesn’t believe me. This has caused us to seek couples therapy. In beginning of our relationship we had amazing sx.. she’s the first women I’ve been in a relationship with. I never had a connection with anyone like that before. Sx to both of us (I thought) was really important and we loved that both of us had a high sx drive so I was confused as to why she would say she wife had an affair because she wasn’t “putting out.” But now I’m starting to see the pattern she’s taking about with not knowing how to balance and self regulate. She told me sx hasn’t felt good to her lately and all she thinks about is how stressed and disgusting she feels in her body and focused too much on the performance. Which I can tell bc the last few months have felt really off and forced and we stop bc it feels weird. I feel guilty about bringing up being unhappy with our s*x life bc she immediately gets triggered and shuts down and assumes I’m going to leave her like her last relationships. I don’t want to leave but I don’t feel as connected to her and feel rejected even tho I know it’s not her fault and she’s going through a lot… so maybe I’m in the wrong??? Am I being selfish?? My drive is so much higher and crave feeling wanted and the passion that we used to feel… it just isn’t the same and I’m waiting for something to change. I’ve brought this up a few times in therapy but she shuts down and then we often can’t move forward because she doesn’t know how to regulate. I want to be understanding and patient but I’m also unsatisfied and feel rejected. Any advice would help… thanks.

I recently started back at thr beginning of April and have finally gotten through the current MSQ. I am starting to do actually MMO things like playing with people and have had a hard time due to unusually high latency. I play exclusively on PC.
In dungeons I am averaging 1300 to 1800, causing me to get hit by things I appear to be way out of and letting my healers get hit. Playing a tank as well makes me self conscious of negatively impacting other players experiences. In towns it jumps to over 2k regularly.
I'm currently on Brunhyldr and am in western Michigan... it was the reccomend server when I started. I made a couple of other characters on other servers and it seems to be pretty consistent. Every other game and service only shows me at 15 to 25.
Should I keep looking for another server to find one that is good or is there something in my settings I should be trying?

I am an upcoming 1st year college student, I am having trouble deciding between 3 schools: University of Connecticut, University of Arizona, and Spelman College. All three have very different cultures, experiences, and environments. All have a good program for my major, so I’m less concerned about that. But, I am more worried about choosing the wrong culture. I would say I am a very fun, but laid back person. I enjoy watching new movies and tv shows and reading. I also love to go out, get ready while playing music and chatting with friends, traveling, shopping, trying new places and exploring new cities, and am an avid sports fan (specifically football, soccer, and basketball). I know I want to attend somewhere with a spirited community, that is proud to rep their school! I am not very outdoorsy, but I will go on a walk or a hike and I love to ride my bike. Furthermore, I am a very transverse person, I like to have friends of all circles, regardless of race or gender. I am drawn to aspects off all schools because of these traits.
Thanks for reading! Any comments, suggestions, or even things to consider for this process and decision would be greatly appreciated!

I (14f) self harm, it's not a secret, I'm open about it to a lot of people. I can take jokes about it, I can make jokes about it. But this friend (16f), makes non stop jokes. When I first became friends with her, it was summer time and I was wearing shorts. Self harm came up as a topic somehow in a convo, and we were talking about our experiences with it, and she told me "Yeah, I know. your thighs were honestly one of the first things I noticed about you." That was off putting. I had to put up a lot of courage to wear shorts to school, and her saying it like that made me uneasy. Now its winter, and its getting a tad bit warmer, and I started wearing short sleeves. I don't have a lot of scars on my arm. Yes, they're self harm but there's really not a lot. I had a bandaid on my arm, and she was like "What's that?" I told her that it was an eraser burn, because that's the truth. She started pointing out each one and asked what each one was. it was fine, I guess. Then she says, as a joke, "I love you and your scars, even if you're a walking Duolingo QR code." That honestly made me really uncomfortable. She started making a lot of similar jokes. She compared it to this one scar she had, saying "twins". No, not twins. That's from your dog.

I am an upcoming 1st year college student, I am having trouble deciding between 3 schools: University of Connecticut, University of Arizona, and Spelman College. All three have very different cultures, experiences, and environments. All have a good program for my major, so I’m less concerned about that. But, I am more worried about choosing the wrong culture. I would say I am a very fun, but laid back person. I enjoy watching new movies and tv shows and reading. I also love to go out, get ready while playing music and chatting with friends, traveling, shopping, trying new places and exploring new cities, and am an avid sports fan (specifically football, soccer, and basketball). I know I want to attend somewhere with a spirited community, that is proud to rep their school! I am not very outdoorsy, but I will go on a walk or a hike and I love to ride my bike. Furthermore, I am a very transverse person, I like to have friends of all circles, regardless of race or gender. I am drawn to aspects off all schools because of these traits.
Thanks for reading! Any comments, suggestions, or even things to consider for this process and decision would be greatly appreciated!

I'm a 32yr old man with a wife, my son who just turned 3 on the 27th,and our litle girl is due July 27th. Crazy times haha. I was diagnosed at 19. First time you hear it young it's just a word to you and then they shorten it AS so can't be that bad right ? Plus caught it early I start my biological next month. I'm not in the constant and every second I of the day I am now plus the doc said the medicine will slow it down. Like I said I am now 32 with 2 back surgeries 2 rod 4 screws. Over 7-8 knee operations and my knee is the size of a melon or two. There's a certain percentage of people who's body will not take to the biological. I have been on them all and nothing helps. I've drained .y knee several times getting over 300ccs out to literslly wake up the next day and all of it came it back. I finally have referall to the mayo clinic so I am going there fingers crossed. My wife has been with through a of it we have been together for 16rs. My family knows my situation and I've heard it all from stay hopeful to the prayers they say for me. I appreciate it all of it I truly do.
Someday though they act like they forgot how serious my pain is a s will want to do things that will sure have me eve worse th e next. I try to explain myself but then it becomes an 'excuse' .
It's getting to the point now to where I tell them why or why not I couldn't do something and actually try to open up about the pain thag seriosuly does not go away. I get hit with everyone has pain some times and you gave to suck it up and get over it that's the 'woe is me",
I try to explain that my pain does not subside at all it might not be to where I can't walk everyday but everyday I can tell you before my son was born I used to pray not to wake up the next morning...it's getting worse now cus my back and knee are hurting together both extremely bad . My mother accused me of looking completely high and loaded. I told her no that's my another day of dealing with something that no one around me even has the slightest idea what it's like to be me for a minute. Fuck it I wouldn't even want the whole minutes they be out in 15 seconds.
Don't be so pessimistic. ....I'm not... I'm realist ...if every biological literally not even one brought down even the inflammation how am I supposed to be hopeful knowing I'm stuk and I am only going het worse lol how can I look forward to that?"
I wish someone knew just how bad the overall is with fatigue and anxiety and depression. I'm 32yrs ol and I can't do certain thing with my child because of this damn word

The situation has not improved.
I am dressed as an astronaut and expect this day to go terribly.
The decorations looked pitiful when I set them up the night prior. The harsh morning light does them no favors. No magical transformation has taken place. The abandoned factory still looks like an abandoned factory.
To enter the grounds of Children’s Sci-Fi Saturday one has to walk through a decontamination tunnel. I had hoped that the mysterious passage would make the factory seem more futuristic, but all it manages to do is bring back memories of the early pandemic. The overpowering stench of disinfectant doesn’t do the atmosphere any favors either.
In the first chamber of the event sits a grouping of chairs and a mostly clean canvas screen that documentaries about space are being projected on. I’ve taken great care in organizing the YouTube playlist to be as educational as possible, but the children are utterly disinterested.
They’re not filled with wonder and joy. They’re confused. Some throw tantrums, some openly weep. The parents that arrived early are trying to put up a positive front, but I know it won’t last. When a heavy-set mother starts to loudly inquire about who she has to speak to for a refund and an explanation, I duck into another of the decontamination tunnels and move deeper into the poorly constructed spaceship.
The second chamber of the event holds the ‘futuristic kitchen.’ The table is pitiful. In between a bunch of sci-fi props I’ve salvaged from a defunct movie studio sit two bowls with the most futuristic food I could afford: Jelly beans and saltine crackers.
Though the food and décor of the chamber are miserable, the kitchen is staffed by my one stroke of good luck — Katherine. She might be underage and I might be breaking various labor laws by having her interact with the children, but what she lacks in qualification she makes up with sheer excitement. She even brought her own costume. Although obviously homemade, she looks like she crawled straight out of the Jetsons and has the energy of a cartoon character to prove it.
When she sees me, she waves and smiles and tells me everything is going great. After the initial burst of pep, however, Katherine asks when I’m going to bring more food. The kids are much hungrier than anticipated and she’s getting a bit peckish herself.
It’s not even an hour in and half the jellybeans are gone. I tell her everything is going to be arranged, even though I know it won’t be. She nods and hops over to serve two ten-year-olds some crackers. They look miserable. I can’t hear her past the helmet, but she says something to the kids and suddenly they’re all smiles.
The woman who was requesting the refund emerges from the disinfection tunnel. She yells out into the ether about robbery and fraud and demands to be shown who’s in charge. I know I’ll have to face her eventually, but I can’t bear to do so yet. I duck into the passageway leading to the final chamber of the event.
The loading bay is lit by discount screens I ordered online. On each of the screens, stands a cartoon alien. Their voices are clearly artificial and they speak over each other, but with a bit of imagination they seem sentient.
Animated avatars powered by artificial intelligence. It’s all Greek to me, but a stranger online put them together for a reasonable price. The avatars are stilted, even a bit frightening, but the children seem genuinely excited to be talking to them.
The man I hired to look after this chamber of the event is considerably less enthused. He emerges from the shadows, his face painted green and holding little joy. The man looks rough, dangerous even, but he’s the only one who responded to my online ad. The moment he sees me he starts asking whether I filled out the paperwork he asked for. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but he doesn’t look amicable to questions. I tell him it’s almost filled out, hoping that he’ll eventually forget.
‘Another thing,’ he says, picking at his paint covered beard in frustration. ‘One of the aliens is busted.’ He doesn’t point at the screen. Instead, he flicks whatever detritus he gathered from his jaw in the general direction of the malfunction.
The alien on the screen is, indeed, busted. The creature’s eyes are wide-open in an expression of a grand mal seizure and his speech consists solely of strained vowels. A child stares up at the creature with terrified wonder. He listens, trying to decipher the extraterrestrial’s message but when he notices we’re watching him he turns to us.
‘Why is he talking like that?’ the boy asks.
‘Alien language,’ I say, feeling the nervous heat rise in my space suit. ‘Try talking to a different alien.’
The child doesn’t question this. He simply shrugs and moves on to a screen with a healthy-looking alien.
I tell the man with the green face that he should dissuade the kids from talking to the broken screen and he, in turn, starts asking about the paperwork again. Apparently, the state needs evidence that he was hired for the job. I vaguely recall a stack of blank documents sitting in the factory’s office and tell him, again, that they’re almost filled out. When he, rather aggressively, demands that I give him the papers immediately, I excuse myself. I am, after all, meant to be keeping watch over the space documentaries.
When I emerge out of the disinfection tunnel into the first chamber of the event, I am met with two unpleasant surprises. The playlist of space documentaries I have set up has been remixed by the YouTube algorithm to include flat-earth videos. Before I manage to rectify the program, I am confronted by a second, shriller, surprise.
She nearly tears my space suit when she grabs me. The woman who was so loudly proclaiming her appetite for a refund has singled me out. Dangling her weeping five-year-old daughter like a prop, she demands to speak to someone who could give her back her hard-earned money. The visor of my space helmet obscures my face, but the fear in my voice comes through loud and clear. I tell the woman that if she wants to get a refund, she should contact the organizer of the event. When she demands a phone number I panic and gave her the right one.
She calls immediately. Even past the confines of an astronaut costume, she can hear my phone ring. The moment she identifies me as the organizer of Children’s Sci-Fi Saturday her already loud voice reaches a volume that makes all the children weep with renewed fervor. Her points and jabs catch the attention of the other parents. They aren’t happy either.
The mob shifts from displeasure to absolute rage in a matter of seconds. At first, I make an attempt to negotiate yet the louder the crowd gets, the more they start to push and shove. I have a helmet on, but the fear of a broken jaw is palpable. As the crowd gets rowdier and more aggressive, I push my way past a bunch of Styrofoam decorations and hide in the factory’s office space.
I had hoped that my retreat would dissuade the crowd but it doesn’t. Not even shuttering the windows calms them. They keep knocking on the door. They’re all demanding to speak to me. With each knock, their demands grow louder and angrier.
When I set up the decorations the night prior, the thought occurred to me that at some point of Children’s Sci-Fi Saturday the police might be called. I just never thought that I would be the one to call them.
Just as I fear someone might break the window, the officers arrive. They part the mob of parents and deliver their own knock and request. I let them in and immediately shut the door.
I recognize them the moment they enter. It isn’t until I take off my helmet that they recognize me. The same two patrolmen who showed up the night me and Karel had met the Unknown. They laugh at the sight of me. When I explain my predicament, they laugh some more.
Halfway through my story, someone starts banging on the door demanding to know what is happening. The younger cop finds this to be a very funny but the other one — the same one who so sternly warned me about being taken to a psychiatric institution on that fateful night — takes great offense to the interruption.
He bursts out the door and roars at the crowd to calm down and not interrupt police procedure. Refunds are civil matters. If they want one, they should call a lawyer. Then, with a satisfied smile, the officer returns to the office. He bids me to continue my story.
The police find Karel bailing on the event and the ensuring chaos to be very funny, but when I tell them that I am scared of the mob outside, they turn thoughtful. The crowd is thinning, but they both admit I am not exactly safe. Finally, the cop who couldn’t stop laughing during my story asks me if anyone’s seen me without the space suit. If people didn’t know I organized the event they might not try to punch me in the face.
When I tell the officer that none of the parents outside actually know what I look like he slaps his knee in victory. He declares the problem solved. I should just take off the space suit and keep an eye on the event as a civilian.
My clothes are drenched with sweat from the space suit and the stress, but aside from the wet splotches around my neck and armpits, I look like a regular middle-aged man. Being a lone, sweaty adult at a children’s day event makes me uncomfortable but I prefer it to the alternative.
The stern policeman stands outside the door and keeps watch. When the coast is clear, he raps his knuckles on the door. I emerge from behind the Styrofoam decorations not as the organizer of Children’s Sci-Fi Saturday but as another unhappy adult. I thank the patrolmen for their help, but in response they just shake their heads and smile.
‘Oh, we’re staying here. Just to keep an eye on things,’ the one who likes to laugh says.
‘There’s a good chance someone will assault you,’ the stern one says.
I heed their warnings and proceed with caution. I do my best to keep a low profile.
In the first chamber of the event, a handful of children are watching the projection with interest. It’s not a space documentary, or even a flat earth video, it’s a scream filled treatise on Bill Gate’s secret microchip factory on the moon. The children look disappointed when I switch the video over to a soft-spoken documentary about space travel, but eventually the screen catches their attention with rocket ships.
Seeing me at the laptop, a parent comes up to me. He asks me if I know who’s in charge of the event. I shrug and say I got the gig from an online listing. The father throws up his hands in frustration, but he does not strike me. He just mumbles unbelievable, grabs his son and leaves the premises.
I find some confidence in my anonymity.
That confidence disappears the moment I enter the second chamber. Weeping children roam around like butterflies on a summer meadow. All the bowls in the futuristic kitchen are empty. Even though Katherine is still smiling, there’s lines of mascara running down her face. Most furious of all, and terribly frightening under the bright light of the fluorescents, is the green painted man.
‘I’m not going back there, man!’ he yells, grabbing me by my shirt. There’s legitimate fear in the man’s eyes, but it quickly turns to anger. ‘Whatever the hell that thing is, it’s not right! If I wasn’t on parole, I would gotten out of here already. Just get me my work papers, goddamn it!’
The other parents watch us with suspicion. They start to piece together why I could be getting yelled at by the staff. Before the mob can assemble again, I free myself of the green man’s grasp and duck into the third chamber of the factory. He screams about how he’s not going back to jail because of me, but the green painted man doesn’t make chase.
I walk through the disinfection chamber alone.
I emerge into a loading dock of flickering screens. Some are completely dead; some are blue with windows errors and some are filled with jittering alien avatars. All of them howl with strange monosyllabic ululations of a broken intelligence.
Yet all the alien avatars malfunctioning is not what strikes true horror into my heart. What truly frightens me is the mirror at the far end of the loading dock.
Even in the poor light, I can see my reflection. I am once again made into a terrible ogre of nightmare. Behind me, as before, something gets closer and closer. When I look over my shoulder, the screens flicker with strain.
The thing emerges on all fours. It moves its limbs with caution, yet its neck is eagerly extended. Even past the ululations of the broken aliens, I can hear it hiss.
From across the loading dock, I witness the Unknown once more.
Drunk on fear, my mind produces a terrible theory. On that fateful night, the Unknown fled before the police entered the loading dock. It fled. With my mind diminished, I form the idea that the creature is easily startled.
As if I was dealing with a deer in my backyard, I make myself large and dash towards it. Yet the thing I am trying to fluster is not a deer. It is horror personified. The closer I move towards the abomination, the starker that reality becomes.
My hands fall to my sides and my fingers dig into my palms. My footsteps slow until my feet refuse to move. I stand before the Unknown just as Karel did, paralyzed with fear.
The thing slowly raises itself to its hind limbs and braces against my shoulders. Though its appendages are shaped like arms, the fingers are not. They are terrible hooked claws that dig deep into the fabric of my shirt. The thing lifts itself and wraps another set of claws around my knees. The creature is considerably light, yet its weight on my mind is unbearable.
From behind its metal mask, the thing whispers to me.
Its rasping voice is that of many mouths. I comprehend each and every inhuman word that is forced into my ear. The message of the Unknown bounces through me, jagged and painful, and my eyes fill with tears. The thing speaks, and I comprehend, yet when it lets go of me all the truths dissipate from my mind.
Like the fading memory of a bad dream, I forget the specifics of what the thing whispered. The terrible message leaves my mind, but the fear and dread do not.
The Unknown does not flee after it is done with me. It crawls its way back to the horrible mirror and watches me. It’s masked face cocks to the side in curiosity.
I do not entertain the creature’s gaze long. The moment my limbs are remotely under my control I turn and I run. As I escape the horrid monstrosity, I try to call to the outside world for help, but my voice is a hoarse whisper. When I smash through the disinfection tunnel my feet can no longer hold me.
Crawling, like a weeping infant, I make my way into the kitchen of the future. The police are in a heated debate with the man with the painted face, but I interrupt it with my wails. Tugging at their pant leg I beg them to enter the third chamber. I demand they witness the horrid monster and destroy it.
The police seem eager to investigate, but my entrance makes a scene. Quickly, I am identified as the organizer of Children’s Sci-Fi Saturday. The parents mob me and order I explain myself. They shout and demand refunds and call me a thief. In their eyes, I can see a thirst for blood.
I try to stand up on my own but instead I am lifted off my feet by an angry balding man. Based off of my terror-stricken eyes and sweaty form, he announces that I am on drugs. With each stuttered denial his accusations grow more certain. I try to explain myself and apologize, yet my words just enrage the crowd further. I am pulled from side to side, nearly being torn asunder. Then, finally, with a blunt force to the back of my head, I am expelled from the realm of the conscious.
I wake in the back of a police cruiser. The officers sit in the front, drinking coffee and eating sandwiches. The event is cancelled, they inform me. The unhappy parents had gathered into a mob and become a public safety hazard. Everyone was dispersed and I was safe, but they weren’t able to figure out who had knocked me out.
‘You’ll just have to live with the mystery,’ the stern one says. ‘At least you survived.’
‘Definitely getting sued though,’ the one of good humor chuckles.
As they drive me home, I go through the missed calls on my cellphone. I think of calling back Katherine, perhaps calming down the green-painted felon, but my mind quickly shifts to other things. I notice something is off when I see myself in the dashboard mirror. The mass of bruised flesh on the right side of my head makes for an uncomfortable sight, but there’s something else that’s wrong in the reflection.
It isn’t until I get a proper look at myself in my bathroom mirror that I realize what had started to unsettle me the back of the cruiser. Behind me, ever so gently, I see movement.
When I turn around, I am alone, yet in my reflection there is something unsettling. Something I can’t quite focus my eyes on is moving behind me. It’s moving and with every passing second it gets closer.
I don’t call any of the people I hired for Children’s Sci-Fi Saturday. I don’t call any of the parents or answer any of the furious e-mails. There’s only one person I have interest in talking to. The only other person who has heard the terrible whispers of the Unknown.
I call Karel. I call him over and over and over again.
I call Karel and he does not pick up.

Why does every god damn thing somehow find a way to sneak milk into everything?? I just found out that I've consumed milk on several occasions in the last several months and I feel like shit! My family and I (17) started to be vegan in January and we LOVE it. But I just found out that some bread crumbs we used in a recent pasta dish have cheese in them. I guess it doesn't surprise me but I am so, so so disappointed. It feels like I'm no longer vegan even though it was completely accidental:( I was just stafting to get the hang of which foods usually sneak in animal products and which don't but this feels like a big setback. It's so disappointing. I feel so guilty now and in need of advice or reassurance.