Pain olympics finals round

I met him. We met twice. I did it. Once in december, then in march. He hates me talking to other men, so only my girls know.. It was the most beautiful experience I have ever lived. It was so natural, everything felt like I belonged. His clothes, his car, his scent. He is and was my home. If only union would last forever. We have guessed each other’s thoughts, we have cried in each other’s arms and asked each other for forgiveness. If only union would last forever.
It’s May now. And we are shattered. I have cried the whole day. I can’t reach out to anyone for comfort. It’s just me, myself and I. I’m so painfully loyal to his desires, it’s the way i show my love. I’m crying as I write this. Because I realise, it doesn’t matter how much I love him. I can’t save him from the lessons. He found yet another karmic person as soon as I returned to my country. One by one, another month another one, as I shatter more and more inside. Sometimes, I just wish I didn’t exist anymore. That’s the update.
I finally made it. I met him. And no, meeting him did not magically make him learn all the lessons. But yes, past Antonia. You met him. You did it. We did it. And you also found out why it had to be so late, and how you had to be another version of you, to be able to reach this point. Just as perhaps one day, you’ll be the version of you alined with divine union

Third Chapter! I'm having a blast writing this. If you enjoy it, then make sure to like it and give me any feedback you have. I'm grateful for all of it!
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I was cold, my feet hurt, and I felt even sicker than before. The boreal path stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, the pale sunlight having no effect on me due to the sense, misty fog. Every breath felt like ice, and I could see my breath in front of me, condensed and almost viscous.
I had been waking for at least an hour by now, following the path to wherever it led. This place couldn't be empty, right? There was a tomb built here, so that meant there had to be some kind of civilization nearby, or at least the remnants of it. Even if it was abandoned, I'd kill to have a roof over my head to sleep under.
I wanted to lay down and sleep, but I knew that if I didn't get warm soon I'd die of hypothermia, so I had to keep trudging on. Besides, I was in the deep wilderness, in this place that I knew nothing about, and I wasn't going to risk getting eaten by some wild animal, or worse.
So I trudged on. The sun rose further in the sky after what seemed like an eternity, and the fog cleared up a bit. Birds sang, trees rattled and shook from the wind, and the air became bearable. I still felt awful, but at least it wasn't frigid out anymore and I would feel better eventually. I wanted to sit down so badly, to find a way to start a fire and get some heat into my bones, but I kept going. I needed to keep going. I needed to know what the hell was going on, and I'd rather find some place to sleep that had a roof and even a bed if I was lucky.
I kept thinking while I walked, in an attempt to entertain myself over what seemed like an endless journey. Who was I? I didn't know who I was, or where I was from, or if I even had a name! All I knew is that I was in the body of this weird lizard… dragon… horned thing, and it felt all wrong. The forked tongue in my mouth felt too weird, I was taller than I thought I should have been, and I was definitely stronger than what a human should have been, if I was even a human before. I think that since I defaulted to assuming that my new strength was more than what a human would have instead of any other race, I must have been human before, right? What other races were there, anyway? What if there were only humans here and I was just a freak of nature?
What if I was the only person in this world? What if everything was gone? That couldn't be the case, right? That tomb implied there were people who had been alive at one point to build it. But they could all be dead now…
Okay, that was enough of me being alone with my thoughts. I decided that, if I was going to keep myself sane, I'd have to do something productive to distract myself from the implications of everything going on around me. It was time to consult the useless journal.
I pulled it out and opened it to the page where we had our last conversation, still irritated by how vague it could be. But I pushed that to the side as I pulled out the quill and began to concentrate as I wrote down a question. Where do I go?
Nothing happened for a moment, but eventually my hand moved on its own, scribbling down an answer in the same elegant cursive as before. Follow the path.
That isn't helpful. I wrote back, frustrated. There was another pause, then more furious scribbling.
You asked a question. I answered it. Be more specific next time.
You’re an asshole. I wrote down, snarling. This time, there was no response, nor was there any movement in my hand. The journal remained uncommunicative.
Why didn't you respond? I asked next, surprised that the journal had been silent. More scribbling followed.
I answer questions. Insults are not questions.
I became even angrier at that, knowing my words didn't really affect the journal. Why can't you be more helpful? I wrote down, just to see what the journal would say.
I am only truly helpful to those who are capable of helping themselves.
It took a moment for my emotions to register, but when they did they appeared as a burst of unbridled rage. With a draconic roar, I threw the journal at the closest tree, causing it to elicit a loud thwap as leather hit bark before it fell to the ground. I turned and stomped away, grumbling, just hoping to leave the journal there. Then I looked down and noticed it was in my hand again.
“Wha-” I began, before realizing that the journal was in perfect condition, not even a single scuff. I grit my teeth and slipped it back into my bag with a sigh before returning to my walk,hoping that I'd find something eventually.
After some time, I finally heard it: running water. That must have been a good thing, because villages were usually nestled along some kind of water source. Even if it was a small village, it must have been a safe place because people were living there, and there were enough people to keep the wilderness at bay.
I rushed up the hill and down the path towards the sound, avoiding tripping over roots and rocks before reaching my destination. The creek was a few yards wide and at least a yard deep, so nothing huge, but it was fresh water. I had nothing to store water in, but I had a skin of beer so I wasn't worried about that. What I was interested in was the dirt path beyond this point seemed less faded and more worn, as if it was used more often. Most exciting, however, was a signpost with a few pointed signs hanging from it. There were two, in fact, one pointing to the left of me and the other one forward still, crossing a beaten and rickety wooden bridge that spanned the creek. The sign that pointed left read Forsvolkvr, which was just utterly incomprehensible to me. The other sign has a simple carved framing around the edge, so it might've been a more important place, and it read Ljosavatnsskaro… who in the hell named a place Ljosavatnsskaro? I couldn't even pronounce that right.
Needless to say, I went with Forsvolkvr.
The path led further downhill, into a sparser woodland that seemed more welcoming, and in the distance I saw it: a tiny village of maybe a dozen long huts, with either clapboard or mudbrick walls and thatched roofs. They didn't have chimneys, but they did have little openings at the top that allowed smoke from hearths to escape. Some houses were a bit bigger than others, but all of them were no bigger than a single story tall. As I approached, I noticed that there were people, honest to God people. Humans walked about, wearing pretty ragged clothes but still people nonetheless! I didn't think I had ever been so excited to see another person before, but then I remembered that I didn't actually remember a time before, so that didn't really mean much.
Most of the people I saw from a distance seemed to wear old, stained, and patched clothes: leather trousers stitched together along with long wool shirts and not much else. Some wore hats or pelt cloaks, and all of the men had thick beards, but most seemed to be exceptionally poor. Along with a few barren fields, there were little more than a few sheep and some chickens roaming the stumpy hills and knolls, so beyond the bounty creek I didn't know how this village even sustained itself.
As I approached the entrance of the village, which was a rickety little gate with a sign that simply read Forsvolkvr, people began to notice me, and I could immediately tell that it wouldn't be a positive reception. The adults pushed children into their homes, some picked up hatchets, and a few more had weapons of their own, mostly simple spears and rounded shields painted all sorts of colors with runic designs. One man came riding up on a horse, sword drawn and chainmail gleaming in the sunlight. “Halt, dragon-spawn, how dare you approach this village.” He was a younger man, maybe in his mid to late twenties, with a short beard, baby blue eyes, and golden blonde hair. He wore similar clothes to those around him, albeit a little less dirty and worn, and had a bear fur mantle on his neck, along with a silver circlet with a single ruby in the center that seemed to serve as a lowly crown. “Your kind are not welcome here!”
Great, so I was a freak of nature. I was hoping I was simply just another race in this world, but I suppose I couldn't be that lucky, now could I?
“I'm just looking for a place to rest,” I shouted back, lowering my sword to appear less intimidating. “I simply want to know if you have a place for me to stay: I'm willing to pay.”
“Are you deaf, dragon spawn?” He shouted as he forced his horse to halt, “Get out or I'll slit open your belly and expose your guts to the crows!”
Well, that wasn't good. I was exhausted and ill, but not so much that I was eager to take a dirt nap. And even if I was in peak condition, I was sure I couldn't take on this entire village nor did I want to since massacring otherwise innocent people probably wouldn't be a great start to whatever mess I had gotten myself into. And I wasn’t exactly a master swordsman to begin with. Even though I defeated those undead, it still felt awkward to swing a sword. I was definitely a bit desensitized to violence, but not some kind of warrior. Having a sword doesn't make me a warrior.
I decided to cut my losses and head for Ljosavatnsskaro instead, since maybe the people there wouldn't want to kill me for having scales. But then the crowd began to spread out, making way for a lone figure, hunched over and wrapped in a dusty brown cloak, using a gnarled branch as a walking cane as he pushed himself forward. The crowd’s ire transformed into anxious murmurs as the man passed, not even sparing them a glance. The only one he looked at was the man on a horse, who's face became pale as milk when their eyes met, and when the ringleader was thoroughly cowed, so was the rest of the mob.
“Gone, back to your workings ye shall be,” he rasped, his voice like sandpaper on glass, “begone and allow me to see where others cannot.” As he hobbled past the horseman he waved his hand, sending the mob hurrying away and back to their daily lives, as if I had never appeared.
“Gothi Øbyiorn, you cannot intervene, this thing is an intruder!” the horseman shouted.
“This thing is a person with a name,” the old man said, who's name was apparently Gothi, “And he has humbly requested your patronage. You dare violate the laws of hospitality? Shame on you for insulting the gods so.”
“By the Stormcaster, he's a dragon-spawn! He'll bring damnation down on us all from above! The Stormcaster shall smite us for harboring him!”
Gothi merely shook his gnarled walking branch irritably and gave the horseman an ugly look. “Thorfast Iogæirsson! If you had paid any attention to my lessons when you were a child you'd know that the Stormcaster’s own brother was the father of dragons! They felled the Lord of giants together! Have you no shame in taking his name in vain?”
The horseman, Thorfast, seemed to blush from embarrassment and indignation at that. “Rhörldir betrayed his brother for the skythrone!”
“And then Inir forgave him after humbling him in battle with his spear, and Rhörldir stood by his side ever since,” Gothi spoke, “Yes, some dragons may be wicked and cling to godly grudges, but this young dragon-kin,” he put emphasis on the word kin as if spawn was some kind of slur, “has humbly requested shelter, and even offered to compensate, and you, as Høbding, should be the first to honor the rules of hospitality. Do not shame your late father with your foolishness by being so brash and bigoted towards those who seek you no harm, especially when your father's very own thane himself was of the dragon-kin.”
The horseman, Thorfast, seemed enraged at first, but something about the elderly hunchback seemed to inject some sense in him, because he sighed with disgust and inserted his blade back into his scabbard. “Come, Dragon-kin,” he spoke, as if the words were being forced from him at gunpoint, “I shall find you the accommodations you seek, but he warned: disrupt my village in any way and I'll impale you on a spike in front of my home.”

Since I was about 28 all I wanted was to get married and have a baby. I wanted it so badly. More than anything. Just seeing babies I would feel that deep yearning. Baby fever I suppose. I couldn’t wait to nurture my kids and relive the good parts of childhood. Watch them grow with my husband as a team.
Then I fell for someone who is a fence sitter leaning STRONGLY no. If I had known this (I thought we were on the same page..we discussed it early on..but things changed..) I probably wouldn’t have dated him. We’ve been together 2 years and I am contemplating ending it now which of course is just depressing and crushing.
I’m 36 now, and I froze my eggs THREE times when I was 35 to give myself a decent chance of a baby or two from those eggs. I just knew if I was investing in that I had to get to a good “number” so I had no regrets one day.
The problem is, I think my boyfriend’s negativity and ambivalence rubbed off on me. I see so many painful and negative situations with kids and no longer have the rose colored glasses. Dealing with my niece and nephew when they cry is exhausting and not fun. But as a person, I am patient, nurturing, and have dealt with so many situations other people could not, I used to be a nurse in a children’s hospital and I loved my job. I’m used to taking care of sick children and it never deterred me before. I still had joy with kids and wanted my own.
Thinking of my kid growing up and struggling in school, having a mental health issue, a car accident or just being a jerk to me depresses me. Maybe it’s not worth it. Thinking of them becoming an adult and us possibly not being close depresses me. Maybe it’s just all over-rated. Thinking of never having a kid and growing old without loved ones around depresses me. It’s probably my worst fear. Thinking of never sharing the joy of my child with my aging parents in their final years depresses me. Thinking of leaving my boyfriend to have a baby with some hypothetical other man or a sperm donor depresses me. Thinking of staying with my boyfriend and never having kids depresses me. I guess if you’re reading this, do everything in your power not to end up in my situation. I know his ambivalence has influenced me, but I can’t help but think about both sides of the coin and feel like I don’t know what to do with my life anymore.

I didn't watch the NBA during the 2000s but one of the things I've always wondered about is how good was prime Paul Pierce. Because he's a Hall of Famer, has a championship and Finals MVP and is considered by most to be a Top 50 player all-time.
But his career before the Big 3 Celtics was formed doesn't have a huge amount of individual accolades: 5 All-Star, 2x All-NBA Third Team, 1x All-Rookie First Team. He had been to the Conference Finals once, 2nd Round twice, and had 4 post season appearances after 9 seasons and by the time he was 30.
It looks like a solid career but I'm not sure if it was on track to be Hall of Fame without getting into a very different situation like he was with the Big 3. Is there more that I'm missing here and he was going to be an all time great regardless of the Big 3 happening or not?
Because just looking at this career at a distance the first modern equivalent I thought of was DeMar DeRozan, really good wing but not quite Top 3 at his position, made the conference finals once but otherwise didn't have a huge peak in the post season or regular season. DeRozan is the first player I think of the best players who probably won't make the Hall of Fame.

Last June, I [27M, 26 at the time] was being medically discharged from the Army. I decided that going back to school would help me further my passion for a career in sports. 4 weeks until my discharge I was accepted into a top 25 uni; one of my top choices. The day I got out of the Army, I hopped on the road and went started to make my way to campus for orientation (I had less than 36 hours before it began).
The summer and fall semester was great, I actually felt as if I belonged and for once in my life, I was starting to enjoy school. Until I was hit with a major bump in the road. During winter break (first week of January) I was hit with a No Contact Order by a Title IX, out of nowhere. Apparently, a classmate was told by another classmate (gossip) that I referred to her as a b word (which I never did, anything I said about her was out of love and respect) but all of this year I was treated as if I were some “demon”. The cohort ostracized me and Title IX was treating me like I committed some crime. My program directors said they were going to support me but every time I spoke to them I felt as if they hated me and that I was not welcomed. I knew this feeling all too well for I had just experienced it not even a year ago. All of my friends had been given orders to be stationed all over the world and I was the only one of my training class still stateside; I was alone.
Fast forward, I’ve had to relieve this experience yet again. I graduated this past Saturday, my struggle had finally met its conclusion but I still feel this anger and betrayal. That girl nor my former classmates never apologized for what she and they did, how I was alienated from social gatherings. Despite me trying to apologize to her before the order was given she said she didn’t care, so I left it as it was. I had a meeting with Title IX in late April, they had told me this order was meant as protection for both of us but I expressed my pain and frustration, stating “this was never protection, it was retaliation”. My experience was ruined, trust in the university was eviscerated. They asked if they could initiate some restoration conversations with my cohort but I told them “damage is done, we’re 3 weeks from graduation; they don’t give a sh**”.
Sorry for this lengthy thread but I’ve had to fight this grueling battle since January, my question is should I try another 1 year program somewhere else to cancel out this bad experience? Also, how do I not hate my alma mater when it was mainly the students and faculty who I had a problem with? Thank you all in advance.

Questions with a bit of fearful ranting below:
So LONG story short, I’ve had GI issues my entire life, even from infancy. The worst of my problems started around 2016 and became severe in 2018.
I had finally got in with a gastroenterologist a few weeks ago who scheduled me for a HIDA scan which I had done yesterday. My results showed normal filling with a 9% ejection fraction at 30 minutes. No gallstones have ever been seen on any of my ultrasounds (I’ve had about 4 in the past 7 years) or CT scan. I was diagnosed with chronic cholecystitis and my gastroenterologist has informed me this morning that a surgeon will contact me for scheduling soon.
I feel that this is moving rather fast and I’m not being offered any alternatives, if there even is any. I’ve never had the right sided pain, it’s always been epigastric and left sided. Only once or twice has this ever radiated to my mid upper back. I fear that completely taking out my gallbladder will not fix the symptoms that I’m having. I’m not necessarily afraid of surgery, more so what comes after.
What if I make a mistake taking it out and possibly ruin my life even further? Will it even help me if I do? Could this test be erroneous? Wouldn’t I have abnormal blood work if my EF is that low? Why is my gallbladder not working to begin with? Is there a root cause I should be chasing instead of jumping to surgery?

Hello everybody, I was hoping to get a few word of encouragement or even as much advice as you could give.
I'm 30(f) and I was just diagnosed with crohns anout 3 or so months and so far its been super stressful. I have had 2 colonoscopies, on my second dose of prednisone due to the amount of inflammation, and have had to fight with insurance to even begin treatment (Stelara).
Today, I just got a call from the Stelara case worker that I have been approved for the medications and she was going to be applying for the assists program to help with the cost (been waiting for about 2 months). She told me that I should be getting a call in the next few days to set up my first infusion and I have no idea how to feel or expect.
Question 1: What should I expect from the first round of treatment, and would being on the prednisone affect it?
Question 2: The only way that I have been able to eat is with THC for not only appetite but for unbearable pain from the smallest amount of food. Would this cause issues with treatment?
Question 3: Approximately how long did it take for you to see improvement with the treatment? I ask this because my Dr is making me feel like it might be the "cure-all" for my symptoms but I know everybody has a different experience if how fast the medication has worked for them.
This is all the questions I have for now, thank you all in advance for anything you can give!

Hi…this will be long. Heh, that’s what she said.
Well, I’ll start with where I am: Divorced, over my ex, barely see my son, 42, small group of friends, dating a divorced mom. My job is easy but boring. Live alone. Can’t have pets. That sums it up.
Eh, I screwed up pretty bad. I admitted to my gf I snooped on her devices because I thought something was going on. I was wrong. Betrayal trauma is some real shit. She’s giving me one last chance. But it came at a price having to rebuild that trust. She’s the sweetest thing. It hurts knowing what I did. I was married 16 years to a cheater and it warped me. I lost myself. The woman I did this to…I want her to be my wife.
My son is a good kid. So proud of him. My ex back in 2017 said she needed to leave for family reasons and we had major house repairs needed before we could sell. She left me there. Acting like that was normal. I missed over a year with my son. Contractor was backed up bad. I had my dog at least. And I was still able to take showers even if it was hose water. Lol you learn to take a hose shower in winter in under two minutes. In my down time I had nothing better to do than think about all the red flags my wife ever gave me and dig. Long story short I was shown a picture of her with another guy. Dude snuck his phone in our room.
The home got finished and sold. Moved. Tried fixing the marriage. Stupid mistake. Finally told her I wanted out and we both didn’t handle it like adults. She would joke and swipe men on apps while I was busy getting played by a married woman. How I fell. I’ll tell you folks right now…putting your integrity back together is easier said than done.
I don’t know why I’m here to experience all of this pain if I’m not strong enough or getting tired. I’m so tired. Don’t get me wrong I’m scared to end it. Life can be awesome and I look at people who have a great career, friends, family, marriage and I’m happy for them. I look at fathers who get to play catch with their son or teach him things, and feel awesome for that guy. I look at a marriage where two people don’t lie to each other and love each other unconditionally and think that’s amazing.
I don’t know what else to say. I’m tired and I don’t feel like doing this anymore.

I was on Cymbalta as the first line of treatment for my nerve pain and depression, and that shit back fired so hard.
Before starting this medication I had absolutely no cardiovascular issues. I had very average blood pressure. I was active and on my feet a lot despite my chronic pain, but never once had I shown any signs beforehand of something being possibly wrong with my heart.
I was on 30mg for 3 weeks, and I didn’t feel awful, but something just wasn’t correct feeling. I was getting dizzy and my heart rate was more insane than I remembered it being. Once I was upped to 60mg thats where shit went really wrong.
I would full on pass out from just standing, I was sweating buckets, my heart felt like it was constantly trying to implode on itself and no matter what I was doing, I felt like absolute shit. I was convinced lowkey I was dying because my blood pressure and heart rate would do weird shit. My heart rate was rocketing up to the 130+ and my blood pressure was plummeting. I lowered my dose back to 30 hoping maybe it’d go away. It never did. I was off that med by week 6 and I have never felt normal since then.
It’s been two years since then, I was freshly 17 when I started Cymbalta and I am now 19. I am still feeling its lasting effects. Doing anything nowadays feels like i’m gonna drop dead at any moment, and it’s just kinda getting worse. I was told that I would return back to normal after a few weeks of stopping the med, and i’m so devastated that I never returned back to normal.
It’s gotten so bad nowadays that even walking my bus stop 4 minutes away makes my chest feel a bit tight and gets me lightheaded. Walking up my apartment stairs makes me feel like i’m gonna actually die, I end up leaning over my kitchen sink trying to just breathe and get the severe chest and upper back to calm down. I have nearly passed out several times in my kitchen because I climbed 16 steps.
I’m finally just seeing an actual cardiologist after finally snapping from this hell. I had previously expressed to my PCP that I had some sort of issue with my heart after this medication, but it wasn’t a major concern as I am juggling so many different things. Then I was borderline coding in a walmart just trying to get groceries and accepted that I couldn’t just ignore this issue anymore as I really didn’t want to actually drop dead before figuring out what went wrong.
I’m unsure if without this medication i’d have these issues, maybe I had them minor before and the medication turned them up to extreme. Who knows! Hopefully my cardiologist (who is luckily the best one outside of my state biggest city).
So, anyone else stuck in heart issue hell because of this med? Or am I just honest to god a medical ticking time bomb?

My mind raced as I stood before the door of the mental institution. I couldn't believe I was actually going balls-deep all because of a post on some random horror forum. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and opened the door, surprised by the lack of resistance from it.
I slowly approached the counter. The receptionist’s eyes were sunken, clearly exhausted after a long day of work. I steeled myself and said, "I wish to visit someone who calls himself 'The Holder of the End'." Her face lost all color, an expression of pure childlike terror washing over her features. She took out a key from a drawer and led me down a dimly lit hallway.
As the receptionist walked me down the hallway, I heard the sound of someone talking to themselves in a language I couldn't make heads or tails of, but something about it filled the depths of my soul with a kind of fear I couldn't describe if I even tried.
Suddenly, the talking stopped, and my blood froze in its veins, but then I remembered the instructions. I stopped on the spot and quickly stammered out, "I'm just passing through, I wish to talk." There were a few moments of silence, after which the voice started talking again. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued on, my heart still hammering in my chest.
After what seemed like an eternity, I arrived at a solid metal door. The receptionist fled and left me on my own to face the horror that awaited me. I opened the door and entered a cold, windowless room with only a single man sat hunched in the corner, muttering to himself in that same unknown language.
I closed the distance between myself and the man, steeled myself once more and asked, "What happens when they all come together?"
The man slowly turned around and stared into my eyes, his gaze piercing me like darts. He began to speak, and out of his mouth came excruciatingly detailed, vivid descriptions of horrors I had once thought to be unimaginable; incomprehensible. With every word the man uttered, I could feel my mind teetering on the brink of insanity, but I urged myself to stay focused. The man held an object in his hands, and I wanted so desperately to look at it, but I didn’t dare avert my eyes from his gaze, knowing that to even so much as steal a glance at the object would lead to a gruesome, cruel death of horror unrelenting and thousands of times more painful than I could ever hope to imagine.
Just as I thought my mind was about to break, the man stopped talking, but continued to stare at me with that razor-sharp gaze. Somehow, however, I knew that it was finally safe to turn around. So I did. I turned and ran through the door, and practically sprinted back up that hallway as fast as my legs would take me. I wanted to get out of that horrible place and back to my reality.
The hallway seemed never-ending, but my efforts were soon rewarded by the exit. I ran past the receptionist’s desk, out the door I first entered… and breathed. The fresh air had never tasted so sweet, but even still, I knew that my journey was far from over.
I wasn’t sure whether the horrors that man spoke to me, or his piercing gaze, would ever leave my mind, but there was one thing I knew for certain. That object the man held, the object I didn’t dare to look at, was only one of 538. It was my duty to ensure that they would never come together. Never.

The stress of the last six months has nearly killed me. Besides the general cratering of the outside world—political strife, climate change, inflated rents, corporate greed, and the baffling resurgence of crew socks—my internal life was falling apart, too. I'm at the point where I can't see a way out of the darkness, and that feeling has only grown in the last few days.
My struggles ramped up exponentially in the last two weeks. It started when my long-term girlfriend and I called it quits after five years. There was no definitive relationship-altering fight or infidelity. It was simply the boring banality of the "roommate-ification" of our lives together. We both felt the shift but never talked about it. Turns out communication is important.
Truthfully, we'd stayed together for so long because we couldn't afford to live apart. Our rent had nearly doubled the last time we re-upped our lease but even that was a bargain compared to what was out there currently. We were trapped by our need to have a roof over our heads.
My job had stagnated, and I couldn't find anything better. I was stuck. Like me, she'd been job hunting as well. Unlike me, she had a master's, and her prospects should've been higher. They weren't. For five months, she applied to hundreds of jobs and couldn't break through. If she got a rejection email, it was a win. Most of the time, the companies never responded.
Finally, she found a great opportunity at a Fortune 500 company. It was an involved process. She nailed the five interviews, and her "test project" was well received. She was offered the position, and it came with a massive pay increase—double her current salary. I was proud of her—she needed a win. We celebrated with pizza and beer that night.
Two days later, she dropped the bomb that she was breaking things off. The relationship ending wasn't a surprise. The timing was. The discussion was brief, and there was zero chance of reconciliation. She declined when I asked if she could stay until the lease ended. Mentally, it would've been too much for her. Two days after that, she moved out, taking half the rent with her. I was stuck in a lease I couldn't afford on my salary for the next six months.
My free time evaporated as I took on two extra gigs to help make ends meet. In addition to my office nine to five, I drove for a delivery app on the weekends and took a part-time night job stocking shelves at a local grocery store. When I wasn't hustling for housing, I slept or ate. I did nothing beyond that. Nothing brings me joy. There is no spark.
This drudgery has become my daily routine, and it's killing me.
To help cover some cost gaps, I've started selling off some of my stuff online. It was just me here, and I decided that the Spartan lifestyle would have to work for now. Anything I could fetch a decent amount for went up for sale. My apartment is so empty now every noise causes an echo.
Before my shift at the grocery store, I agreed to meet someone who wanted to take a look at my kitchen table. It was a lovely table – my ex had obsessed over it – but I didn't see a need at the moment. Now that I was a bachelor, my TV trays became my default kitchen tables anyway. I wasn't planning on any dinner parties in the future anyway.
A couple showed up later than they said they would. It was a bored-looking guy and a fastidious young woman. She made friendly small talk as she looked over the table. Her boyfriend (I think) stayed quiet and played bodyguard. I gave him a friendly nod at one point, and he just looked away. She said they'd take it without trying to talk me down. I took the small win.
She asked if I could help carry it down to their truck. I was running late, but feeling helpful, even for a fleeting few seconds, was worth it. Her silent boyfriend and I hauled the table through the hallway and even managed to avoid hitting the walls the entire way down.
I placed it in their truck, got my money, and turned to leave. The girl said thanks, and the boyfriend finally returned the nod. I gave a weird half-wave to them both and started to walk away when I heard the passenger window being rolled down.
"Hey man," the boyfriend said, his voice higher pitched than I thought it would. "What was up with your brother giving us the evil eye in the lobby when we got here?"
I turned around, "Huh? I don't have a brother."
"A cousin then?"
"My family lives about a thousand miles away. What happened in the lobby?"
"A dude that looked just like you was hiding in a dark hallway in the lobby and staring at my girl's ass."
"Jacob, really," she said.
"I'm sorry that happened, but I had nothing to do with it. We do have the occasional homeless guy meander in. Maybe you saw one of them," I said. "Did he say or do anything bad?"
"Jacob, I asked you to not say something," the girl said, burying her head in her hands.
Jacob's frosty attitude to me made sense now. "He said something about running up that ass. I dunno, he was mumbling. I told him I'd beat his ass if he didn't stop staring. Seemed to shut him up."
"Oh. Well, congrats," I said. "I'll tell the manager. Thanks for letting me know."
"You should do a better job keeping jokers like that out of the building."
"Jacob, he's not a security guard."
"He should still be a man and protect his home."
"Have a good night," I said, ending the conversation and heading back up to my apartment. I had about five minutes to change and head out before I'd be late. Last thing my ego needed was to be fired from my backup job.
Thankfully, I was able to slip into work and not get spotted by my boss. That was the last of the good news, though. We had a massive weekly order come in, which meant I'd be there late, plus someone had called out. Worse, our hand truck had a flat tire, and I spent the next few hours torturing my muscles, schlepping heavy boxes around the store. I soldiered on, counting down the minutes until I left and fantasizing about going to bed for the night.
If wishing for sleep wasn't a sad statement to my mental well-being, nothing was.
I came home after my shift at the grocery store and plopped down on the couch. I had contemplated selling it, but it was an older Ikea number, and I didn't think the value would replace my desire to sit. I could feel my body sink into the cushions, and the day's tension seep out. I was beat and tired to the point that turning on the TV was a chore.
I picked up my phone and thought I'd doomscroll until sleep overtook me. I didn't expect it to be a long scroll, as even the methadone that is my phone has failed me lately. As I lowered myself from a slumped position to a supine one, I heard footsteps outside my apartment door. This was not unusual, but the noise I heard sounded like kid footsteps. That was unusual, as nobody on our floor had kids, and it was almost midnight.
Despite my body screaming at me to not move, my brain suggested I check it out. I rolled myself off the couch and eventually stood up. I listened again and heard the kid running down the hallway. I walked over to my door and looked out the peephole. I didn't see anyone.
"Maybe I'm dreaming," I said to myself. "Maybe I'm not staring out a peephole, expecting to see a kid running down the hall at midnight, but instead, I'm cuddled up in my bed, snoozing." I pinched my arm and felt the pain. I was definitely in the waking world.
I turned to head back to the couch when I heard the running again, this time louder. I opened my door and peeked out into the hallway. Nobody was there. The door from the apartment across me opened up, too. Gloria, a young at heart grandma who was friendly/constantly buzzed in a wine mom kind of way, gave me a once over.
"You heard that, too?" she asked.
"Kids?"
"No rugrats around. I assumed it was some drunk assholes stumbling home from the bar."
I laughed. Gloria was, as always, blunt. "I didn't see any assholes," I said.
"Then you're not watching the right kind of internet videos," she said with a wink and a hoarse cackle.
I blushed. How do you respond to that? I just kind of nodded in agreement and shrugged.
"Gotta get your jollies while you can," she said before adding, "You need some rest, dear. You look like hammered shit." She shut her door and went back inside.
She was right. I felt like hammered shit. Since I wasn't going to solve the case of the mysterious runner and was sure it wasn't some lost kid, I decided to call it a night. I went back inside, shut down the apartment, and crawled into bed.
I thought about watching one of the "right kind of internet videos" but fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
***
"Your problem is you think the world owes you something."
John, my elderly coworker at the grocery store, was standing by while I unloaded a pallet of cereal. I liked John, and when I first started, we instantly clicked. He's quick with a joke and fun to talk to. He's also about thirty years older than me and speaks with the Boomer combination of accumulated wisdom, backhanded compliments, and fringe conspiracy nonsense. Still, regardless of how couched the kindness is in gobbledygook, he's usually coming from a good place.
"What?" I said, putting a box of Captain Crunch on the shelf.
"You're complaining about your situation, right? Saying it ain't fair. The world took a paddle to your hind quarters? Hey brother, that's the way the cookie crumbles. Gotta just pick yourself up and start over. You're smart enough – figured this job out right quick – you can do it."
The job was wheeling pallets around the store and stocking shelves. It wasn't much to figure out, but I understood his meaning. The other stuff wasn't necessary, though. "I'm just in a funk. I don't see a way forward."
"Hey, so you've bottomed out. No shame in that. Happens to us all. Silver lining, you can only go up," he said before adding, "Unless some other bad shit happens to you like your car dies or your apartment building burns down. But after that, it's only up."
"The apartment building burning down would be a blessing," I said, hoisting another little Captain on the shelf. "The rent is killing me."
"Have you tried negotiating a lower rent? They used to do that when I was your age."
"I think they'd evict me if I even asked."
"Hell, then you'd have at least thirty days, maybe forty, before they'd kick you out. Plenty of time to turn things around."
"Uh-huh," I said, "Any chance you could give me a hand here?"
"My back is screaming like a pretty young thing after prom," he said, holding his back for emphasis.
I didn't push. "Hey, I meant to tell you about some weird shit that happened the other night."
"Lay it on me. I love the strange."
"So, after my shift the other day, I got home around midnight and was flopped on the couch. I heard someone running down the hallway outside my apartment. I wasn't the only one. A few other neighbors heard it, too. When we checked, though, nobody was there."
"That ain't strange," John said, waving his hand, "that's a man who's plowing another man's wife running for his life."
I laughed. "That's not the weird part. So, for the next two nights, it's the same thing. Around midnight, someone runs down the hallway. Only this time, they're trying the door handles as they pass. So, I asked the front desk to check the security cameras, and they do."
"They see a man running away holding his clothes?"
"There wasn't anyone running down the hall," I said, "But the weird thing was, you could see the door handles turning on the video."
"Damn, that's a good one," John said, "You sure it wasn't just a camera glitch. These new ones from overseas aren't as reliable as they want you to think. Chinese probably using them to spy on you, too."
He continued as my brain tried to reconcile John's two opposing comments. "Weird shit happens at night, man. Before working here, I only worked the day shift. Even when they offered me more money to work nights, I turned it down. Even when they promised me a promotion, I turned them down."
In a previous life, John had worked as a paramedic. He came by it after serving in a medical unit in the army. He'd told me he loved the rush of the job, but after a while, the death and hurt in people's eyes got to be too much to handle. But he worked there for almost twenty years. So, the man had a tolerance for shenanigans and odd occurrences.
"Why'd you agree to work nights here?"
"Shit, we're home before the witching hour. This is like late afternoons, at best. But if it was overnights, hell no. Captain Crunch can anchor his own ship to the shelves. I'd take my ass to 7-11 for a day shift before agreeing to work an overnight."
"Something happen to you during the army?”
“I got the clap,” he offered.
I sighed. “What turned you off nights?"
"Oh. I heard enough stories from coworkers to know I didn't want to experience any of that hoo-doo shit," he said, "trying to save someone's life is hard enough without adding in demon kids and ghosts."
"Did your coworkers see demon kids?" I asked, moving on from the good Captain to the Trix rabbit.
He nodded, "They saw too much. I find it odd, even with all the surveillance we have now and all the science we know about these days, that the night still scares us. You ever know someone who worked a night shift?"
I had. My ex. During college, she worked the overnight desk at a hotel for a while. She quit because the job gave her bad vibes. I told John as much.
He pointed and laughed, "See! Don't you find it odd that every person who works at night always has a story of something eerie happening to them? Every person, buster. That's what they call an irrefutable fact."
"Maybe the ghost running down the hallway is an old employee still doing his rounds."
"In that case, keep that door double locked. I'd even wedge a towel under the door just in case."
"Maybe they're friendly? Casper-like in that way."
"You ever heard someone tell you about a friendly ghost outside the funny papers?"
"I'm sure it happens," I said, "The scary ghosts are more popular though."
“We think we know everything there is to know but we are just babes in the woods when it comes to night things.” John shook his head. "Imma tell you one or three things that happened to a guy I worked with back when I first got hired on to chase after corpses in the ambo. Guy's name was Gil. Quiet man, kept to himself. Didn't rock the boat or demand a bigger paddle. Just rowed with us. Good cat to learn under," John said, finally handing me a cereal box.
I took it, and he kept going, "Now, Gil, ya see, he had a little wifey that would pester him about working days. She was a cop and worked evenings at that time, so they never saw each other. When married people can't align their genitals every now and then, it spells doom."
"A little too much information but sure," I said, shelving another box of Trix.
"Probably part of what happened with you and yours," he said. He wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean I wanted to hear it.
John kept on, "Gil finally got approved to move to nights. Little pay boost and a happy, 'fulfilled' wife should've made that man happy. But it didn't. I saw him a few months later, and he had changed. He might've been quiet when he was working with me, but he'd talk to you if you engaged. When I saw him that time, though, oh boy. He looked sick."
"Wasn't a fan of working nights?"
"Wasn't a fan of living anymore is the feeling I got," John said, "After some prodding, he got to talking with me some. Told me he missed days because the nights were messing with him. I thought it had to do with the schedule change, but that wasn't the case. He said he saw things in the dark he couldn't explain. Things that would turn James Brown into James White, ya dig?"
"I...dig," I said.
"Told me they got a call to an abandoned apartment building one night, around three in the morning. Wasn't unusual. Old buildings in the city are where hop-heads congregate and share drugs. Sometimes, the drugs are too much. Sometimes, they find a person passed out or, worse, dead. When you work in the ambo, you aren't scared of death like a civilian. You've been around it. Probably seen a few folks take their last breaths. It doesn't bother you the way Mother Nature intended it should."
He handed me another box, continuing his assist streak, and kept going, "Ambo pulled up, Gil stepped out and looked for someone to talk to. Nobody there, though. Not uncommon. Some people want to help but not be involved. There's not a soul around. He calls out, but nothing comes back. Tells me he turns to get back in the ambulance when he hears a scream from inside the run-down building. They're calling for help. He's gotta go in the abandoned building in the dark."
"No thanks," I said.
"But it don't bother a medic like that. Gil's done a million of these calls. No big deal. He runs into that building but doesn't come back out until twenty minutes later. Just goes missing. After five, the crew heads in to back him up but can't find him. Gil tells me his crew called the cops. It was like he had vanished."
"What happened?"
"I asked him and he got real quiet. Said he fell into some place that looked like here but wasn't here. Said he felt their eyes on him. Judging him. Told me they followed him home and wouldn't leave him be."
"Who?"
John shrugged, "He didn't say. Shut down after that and left. Just walked past me like I was shit on the sidewalk. He quit about a week later. Heard he had a stroke a year later and was a tombstone owner three months after that. Good guy, though."
"Your aversion to overnights makes a little more sense."
"Never in a million years. You don't want something like that coming after you."
"In my case, could it get much worse?" I said with a half-smile.
"Man, I wouldn't even joke about that," he said, making the sign of the cross, "You don't want that shit attachin' itself to you. With your luck, you'd bring him in here, and it'd hop over to me. I can't have a ghost crimping my style."
After a bit, he got called away to sign off on a delivery. I finished out my shift and headed out to the parking lot. When I exited the building and spotted my car, I froze. My doors were all open, and the interior lights were on. Someone had broken in.
I glanced around the lot to see if the thief was still around, but there wasn't another person near me. I walked over to the car and peered inside. My glovebox had been ripped open, and my registration was pulled out, but nothing else was missing.
I found little hand prints in the dirt all along the body and the windows. I held mine up for comparison, and they were about half the size. It must've been some tweens or teens who did this. Maybe they were going to steal some things and got cold feet. I contemplated calling the cops, but since nothing had happened and they wouldn't do anything anyway, there was no reason to delay sleep any longer than I had to. I closed all the doors and climbed inside.
I started the car and heard something rattling in the AC vents. I pulled out my phone and shined the light at the vent. There was a small piece of paper inside. I looked around my car for some tool to pull it out and only found an ink pen and a bent-up paperclip. After McGuyvering the vent for a bit, the paper finally came out.
I held it up and unfolded it. There was a handwritten note. It simply read, "I know you're here. I know you're hiding him. I will find you both, and then it'll be your turn to run the race. We all have to run at some point."
I had no idea what that meant, but my body still provided goosebumps. Who was trying to find me? Who was the second person? Why leave a note in my AC vent? What the hell did run the race mean? I hadn't run a race since elementary school and wasn't planning to do so any time soon. Did they mean the rat race? Because I was basically marathoning that motherfucker already.
"Jesus Christ," I said, shaking my head. "What else, universe?"
As if it were a well-practiced comedy routine, the universe responded. My back passenger door swung open, and I heard footsteps running away from my car. I sprung up and scrambled to get out. There wasn't anyone else in the lot that I could see, but very clearly, someone had been hiding in my backseat.
My nerves were shot already, and this was not something I wanted to deal with at the moment. My brain decided that to avoid a breakdown, I needed to shift into automatic mode and just get back to the safety of my apartment. I'd be more prepared to deal with this – whatever it was – in the morning.
Either that or I'd jump in front of a bus. Both sounded satisfying, albeit in different ways.
***
"There he is," Gloria said as soon as I turned down the hallway. I looked up and noticed a small cabal of my neighbors standing in a semi-circle, waiting for me. They all look displeased.
"Hey guys," I said, confused. "I miss an invite for a block party?"
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"About?"
"Don't play dumb," another neighbor said, jabbing their finger in my direction.
"I'm not playing," I said, realizing the self-burn only after the words escaped my lips.
Gloria showed me the screen on her phone. It was a static shot of her door from across the hall. She pressed play, and nothing happened for a beat until something darted across the screen. That was the whole thing. I looked up at her, my face twisted up in confusion.
"Well," she said, "What do you have to say?"
"What was that?" I asked.
"That was you!" the pointing neighbor said, pointing harder than I thought possible.
"What?" I said, laughing. "Are you all serious?" They didn't laugh, and I realized they weren't joking. "How can you even tell it's me? It's a blur. Never mind the fact I've been at work for the last five hours. Plus, this blur is half my size. I get we're all weirded out about the Phantom Runner, but it's not me. I swear to God. I don't even have the energy to think about running, let alone the physical desire to."
"Then explain this," Gloria said, slightly swaying from the half bottle of Pinot Noir coursing through her blood. She rewound the video and froze it on a specific frame. I couldn't believe my eyes, but I was looking at...me. Or, rather, something pretending to be me.
"What the fuck?" I said, my jaw dropping.
"Still think we're lying?" the pointer said smugly.
"No, but, guys, this isn't me. I... I've been at work. Wanna see my schedule?"
I reached into my phone and pulled it out. There was an email with my work schedule that confirmed what I was saying. They relaxed, and, for the first time, anger gave way to fear. Their very plausible explanation was suddenly invalid. It left two implausible answers floating in the ether: either I had a pint-sized doppelganger terrorizing the hallways of my apartment, or a ghost was haunting the building.
"I'm...gonna go inside," the pointer said, walking back to their home. Everyone else drifted away until it was just Gloria and I standing alone in the hallway.
She looked at me and sighed, "I feel like an asshole," she said. "Sorry I accused you of causing the racket."
"If I had seen the video, I would've thought the same thing," I said. "We're good."
"What do you think it is?" she asked.
I shrugged and let out an exhausted sigh. "Honestly, Gloria, I've had a screwed-up night already, and this is the cherry on top of the shit sundae; forgive my language. I don't have the mental bandwidth to even comprehend what's on the video at the moment."
"Think it's after you?" she asked, though I suspected the wine had forced her to put that idea out into the universe. As I had already seen, the universe seemed to take requests on my behalf.
"Maybe it's after you?" I said, coming off a little meaner than I intended, but I didn't care. I left her there to contemplate that scenario and went into my apartment.
As soon as the door shut behind me, I felt on edge. Just because I didn't have the mental bandwidth to discuss the doppelganger didn't mean it wasn't dominating my thoughts. I saw the frame of the video. The damn ghost looked exactly like me. What could that possibly mean? I know I had wished for death, but I was very still alive. I had rent due to prove that.
Did I happen to live in a place haunted by a ghost that looked strikingly like me? Was it some kid with a passing resemblance just causing chaos? Was it something else I couldn't even comprehend – an alien? A clone? A secret government project?
There was a thumping coming from the hallway. The mini Usain Bolt was at it again. I knew the neighbors would ignore it. Since they had all thought it was me, which was proven to be untrue, they would avoid the running man from now on. While curious and confused by the creature, they'd never put themselves in harm's way to discover what it was. They were not a brave lot.
Neither was I, but maybe my life crumbling around me had forced my hand. I walked over to my door and swung it open. I hit record on my phone, stuck it out like a periscope, and glanced around the hallway. Nobody was there. No neighbors were looking. No person was running.
"You gotta stop, man. I need to go to sleep," I said to the empty space. No response, not that I was expecting one.
I turned to walk back in, and I caught something out of the corner of my eye. A face at the end of the hallway peeked around the corner. For a quick second, we locked eyes, and it was like I was looking into a mirror. This thing was me. But...how?
I tried to get it on video, but it ducked back into the shadows. I took that as a cue to shut and lock my door. My heart was racing, and I didn't want to think about this anymore, but I couldn't help it. There was a me in the hallway who enjoyed pestering my neighbors. Worse, they liked to run for some ungodly reason.
I put my phone on the counter, the video still rolling, when there was a knock at my door. It echoed in my near-empty apartment. I tried to ignore it and convince myself it was something else, but it wasn't. The ghost was knocking on my door. Even with my brain paralyzed, I couldn't help but think that it was awfully polite to knock.
Another knock, this one more forceful. I wondered if the neighbors thought I was making this up?
"I know you're in there," a voice said. It sounded just like me. "This is about the race. We all have to run the race. It's your turn now."
I froze. My legs went wobbly like a boxer on the brink of a blackout, but I stayed tall. I opened my mouth to speak and found the words dying in my throat. I grabbed a nearby bottle of water and took a chug.
"We all have to run the race."
"What race?" I choked out, "What are you talking about?"
"Open up. They're in there already, and I need to get them."
I glanced all around my empty apartment. I didn't see anyone else in here. I didn't hear anything. Whatever this thing was, it was lying. I grabbed my phone and held it in my hand. I wanted to document this to prove that I wasn't crazy.
“Did you leave the note?”
“I know they’re in there with you,” it repeated.
"There's no one in here," I said.
"They're hiding. I think I know where. I can hear them."
"You've gotta get out of here," I said. "There's nothing here, and you're scaring people."
"I'm scared, and you should be! You have to run the race, man! Open up, and I can show you."
The handle started to shake. I peered through the keyhole and only saw the top of the other me's head. They began to shoulder the door, and it crunched against my nose. I screamed out in pain and stumbled back. I tripped over my feet and landed hard on my ass.
The thing slammed into the door two more times, shaking the walls. The strength seemed unnatural. On the third hit, the door burst open. I finally got a view of the thing. It was me. Scaled down by half, but it was me. We both seemed shocked.
"You're so much taller up close," the other me said.
"Who the fuck are you?"
I felt a buzzing in my feet that seemed to climb up my body until it reached my brain. There was an intense pain that rippled through the folds of my mind. Through the pain, I could hear a disembodied voice whisper, "We all must run the race. We all have to run. Chase it. Chase yourself." It felt like my skull was going to split in two. I clutched the sides of my head and let out a primal scream that hurt my own ears.
Then it was gone. But I could still feel the echoes in my mind. "We all have to run the race. We all have to run." The thought would waver between making no sense and making complete sense. One second, I was questioning what was happening to my mind, and the next, all I felt was the desire to continue the race.
"There he is!" the other me yelled, pointing at the hallway.
I glanced over and saw another version of me standing in the hallway. It was half the size of the other me that had broken into my place. When tiny me locked eyes with my intruder, he ran for the open hallway closet.
The other me followed, screaming that it would catch the little bastard if it was the last thing he'd do. I pushed myself up to my feet and felt queasy. I watched as the other me ran head-first into the closet without slowing. I expected to hear a loud thump as it hit the back wall but none came.
"We all have to run the race," the voice in my head said, soothing my nerves. "It's your time to run the race."
I moved down the hallway, each footfall echoing loudly in the empty apartment, each step bringing me closer to the closet door. Something was drawing me there. The voice's words echoed in my mind as well: "We all have to run the race. It's your turn now."
I grabbed the door and stopped. Something was compelling me to move forward. To go into the closet. To chase myself. To run the race.
"No," I whispered and yanked my hand from the door. I pulled out my still recording phone, and stared into the camera. My face was devoid of color, and you could see the fear etched into me. "I'm freaking out because...because…"
I stopped. I felt an invisible hand grab my body and tug. "Because...because if I don't run the race, something bad will happen. I have to chase it. I...I have to."
My phone dropped from my hand, and I didn’t care. The force pulling me forward stopped but my body kept going. I could feel the last strands of my rational mind splintering. My thoughts became focused on one thing: I had to catch myself, find out what was happening, and run the race. If I ran, maybe I'd win.
I needed a win.
I walked into the back of the closet and felt a door handle sticking out of the wall. I'd been in that closet a million times before and never had seen this. But a sense of calm washed over me. This….this was supposed to be here. This was perfectly fine.
I turned the handle and pulled open the invisible door. In front of me was a hallway that looked strikingly like the one outside my apartment. At the end of the hallway, I saw Gloria step out of their home to leave for the night. She was huge. Twice my size, easy.
Another door opened, and I saw...me—a giant version of me. The Hulk version of me was getting ready to go to the grocery store for work. I watched as the giant Gloria and giant me joked and laughed. I was stunned.
I stared, and a new thought came to me. I have to find the smaller me and talk to it. I needed to find out if there's a way out of this...this….
"It's your turn to run," the voice said.
Calm embraced me. "It's my turn to run," I repeated. As the giant me took off and the giant Gloria re-entered her apartment, the hallway beckoned.
"We all have to run the race," I said softly, "It's my turn now."
I started running.

Hello!!
Sorry if this ends up being a long and unformatted post, but I need help from someone who understands a bit more than I do.
I (21F) unknowingly got a UTI back in October when I got my IUD put in. I'm assuming that's when it happened, because when they did my analysis I had two types of bacteria causing my uti, proteus mirabelis and klebsiella pneumoniae, and those two (specifically klebsiella) seem to come specifically from medical settings, and since my doctor was in a rush (I was his last patient of the day before having to go to the hospital for a delivery), I don't think he was being as careful as he should've been with washing hands and stuff. I didn't know that I had a UTI until almost a month ago when I went into the ER for excruciating pain, the worst pain I've ever felt.
I had none of the common symptoms of UTIs, but I was increasingly losing my appetite, vomiting, nausea, fatigue, severe pain in my right side and back... the whole nine yards. I thought it was either side effects from the IUD being put in (I was told these were all side effects to except for up to a year after insertion, don't really know if that's true) or from my PCOS, which often unfortunately causes pain in the same area that's so intense I am nauseous or vomiting as well.
When I went into the ER, they did a urine test (the urine was pretty bloody so they concluded I had an infection before even testing it, but they still tested it anyways), as well as doing a CT scan and ultrasound to make sure there wasn't anything else (cancer) going on.
In that CT scan, they found a 1cm kidney stone. However, they didn't tell me about it directly. They sent me home, stated that I had a UTI, and said that the antibiotics should take care of it in 7 days (I unfortunately don't remember what antibiotic it was now, but it's a general one that helps with the most bacteria since they didn't know what I had yet). I only found out about the stone after reading my chart and seeing pictures of the CT scan, where you can clearly see it.
After 7 days of that antibiotic, I started feeling bad again 24 hours after I was finished with them. I did a telemedicine visit, but what they ended up prescribing me is known to be ineffective with the types of bacteria I had, so I didn't even really bother and ended up just going to a minute clinic. At the minute clinic they did another test, said I still had a UTI, and put me on bactrim. I'm sensitive to bactrim, and it ended up giving me an ear infection... and then it still didn't completely fix the UTI either. I went to a minute clinic the third time after trying bactrim and they gave me amoxicillin, which finally seems to have worked for the UTI.
Unfortunately, today I had to give a tour to some employees. I work outside at a large property, and by the end of it the severe pain had come back in my right side and back and while it has dulled now, almost 10 hours after, it's still there. I took a UTI at home test and it came positive for leukocytes but not nitrites, which when I looked it up, says it may be due to antibiotic use, UTI, or kidney stone. Go figure.
I've been drinking lemon juice like crazy (I've heard that it can help you pass kidney stones), but I haven't passed anything so I'm assuming my leftover pain is from that. I'm not really sure what to do from here, because if the ER didn't even mention it, I'm not sure if any urologist will take me seriously and just will brush it off. I've never had kidney stones, so I'm not even really sure what the treatment is for it (I keep reading that it's painful... ladies with IUDs, is it better or worse than getting that inserted?) The bottom line is that I can't keep living like this, I'm confused why no one mentioned or seemed concerned about the kidney stone (the minute clinic people didn't really seem to care either), and I don't have insurance so it's getting really costly to keep going to the doctors and having them brush me off. I'm at my wits end, and it's making my depression bad again. Can someone please either give me knowledge you have past googling stuff (googling isn't really getting me anywhere past surface level knowledge, and no doctor really is explaining it to me) or what to do next?
Again, sorry this post is so long. I'm just hoping that someone reads it and is able to help me.

About a month ago my ex (29m) broke up with me (26f) after 4 years in the worst possible way. The night before we said goodbye and he texted me that he would be at a show. Next thing you know he doesn’t come home and disappeared for 20+ hours. When I finally get a hold of him after thinking he was dead he texted me "I think we should break up". I was livid and called him screaming to face me because he is a coward. When he did come back home he reeked of booze and couldn’t stop crying saying things weren’t lining up for us and he was falling out of love. We cried and he left to stay at his friends place and he said I love you. A few days pass and I have this nagging feeling there is someone else. He comes back home, I beg him to work things out and he is closed off and still very emotional. We do this a few times until one night he comes over and we get into a big fight because I know he likes someone else, one thing leads to another and we end up having sex and he tells me after that he cheated on me the night before he broke up with me. He also confesses that he is falling in love with her and that she knows about me and that we live together etc.
For a little context, a few months before he ended things he started heavily drinking everyday, partying and basically stopped communicating with me. He was overwhelmed and kept spreading himself thin. He thought that breaking up with me with bring him some sense of relief but it didn’t. He is still full of guilt and he keeps saying he wants to make things right with me and wants me in his life forever and be my creative partner and collaborate in the future. He says that he still loves me but "not like that" or when I ask him if he still has romantic feelings for me he says "not right now". I am moving out in a week but I still want to make it work despite him dating someone else. He is the avoidant type so I know he is using her in part to numb the pain. They do drugs together (cocaine/molly) and knowing him he is love bombing her. I can’t see a relationship based on betrayal becoming genuine.
I understand how toxic this is but he tells me things that give me hope. We talked the other day about our issues and they were all resolvable if he would have just opened up more. He says he is sorry and I think he is realizing that he made errors too. He keeps saying that he wants to be friends and when I mentioned that he cant have her and me as a friend he started crying. He says that maybe we can be together in the future. I dont know what to do, we still sleep in the same bed sometimes, we can still hangout a bit but my heart aches because he still goes to her. I am becoming seriously ill tying to figure him out and I need help. Is he manipulating me? Or is he genuinely confused?

18 months of hell.
In November 2022 I got accused of a very serious crime and investivated by police. My girlfriend at the time lost her job. I had to move home because rent was getting ridiculous for the area and quality.
Christmas 2022, grandfather dies of a Stoke. At rhe same time, grandmother on other side of family nearly dies of the same thing.
Ny father can't speak at his dad's funeral, I step up, trying to support the family and keep things ordered. I do it. But I see my dad cry fir the first time in my life...
I took out a £15k loan. Which helped with credit card debt (due to my gf at the time not really working or paying for anything), then after I moved, new housemate was a fucking slob who used my good nature to treat the place like a shit tip. Leaving chocolate out for my dog to eat and everything.
Police issue is resolved, no evidence after I get a solicitor and an interview. Still to this day, I flinch when I hear sirens...
Birthday... gf St the time, while sleeping upstairs and I sleep on the sofa cause be and my friend are chatting unti lwe fall asleep ad a heavy day drinking... ex comes down.. stands over me. And hits me so hard I scream. House wakes up. Mate sees this happen. And then housemate comes down, and asks why she got in his bed... she is currently pinning me down, crying and screaming.. I tell everyone to go to bed and deal with it the next day.
Tell gf at the time that she has fucked up... She doesn't know why she did it... says she was sleep walking.. touch starved...
Had to physically remove housemate after 1) his room smelled so bad, that I had to get landlords involved and a professional carpet clean on his room and 2) he pissed on my fucking landing carpet.
Months of me paying nearly as much rent as I earn in wage, due to gf at the time barely paying me... get a housemate in who wants the place to be good to live in.. Ex decides to threaten suicide when it's just me and her, after multiple times she has grabbed and tried to hold me down knowing I am in pain from her hitting me... She locks herself in the bathroom (razors and isopropyl alcohol inside, and apparently as I find out later, our dog). I call 111, she is screaming, I'm taking on the phone to try to get control... I struggle...
Eventually she opens the door, screaming at me... 111 operator can't do anything more... I thank him and hang up.. ex gf screaming at me immediately.. im the worst person, im stupid... can't believe i believed her she might commit suicide. How stupid am I.. all of it.. I broke.. broke up with her. Hated life, hated myself. Still do.
This was November 2023.. she finally left in May 2024. Every day since I havent been able to say a word in my house. I have been belittled, broken, criticised, for the tiniest things... while I can't say a word against anyone... she left dishes to go mouldy, I cant ask her to clean after herself.... and that's the minor things..
I am alone... when she left, she took the dog.. she was ours. She slept with me every night... ans now she is gone.. to a girl who never took her for a walk unless she was the ONLY one to.. and even then.. First walk at 2:30... maybe 5pm...
I dont know anymore. I'm sick of everything.. ex even got to move out of London and keep her job.. Best I could argue was the possibility of a transfer... but I'd lose my London weighting... and fuck over my housemate...
I don't even know what I need.. I've had counselling, the Counsellor didn't turn up to half the sessions... And can't get free ones... I canr get help for domestic violence victims as its not an ongoing issue and I'm a male in my 30s. So im not priority (I get it, but im allowed to say it hurts not getting support).
I just want to be allowed to live a normal life.. I dont want this... I just want to scream.
Thank you if you read this. I'm sorry if its not the usual content.

I really never know how much context to give these stories to get a well rounded picture lol. Me and my boyfriend have been dating for 2 years, 24F & 25M.
He has a white picket fence life. Still lives with parents (we’re getting a place together soon). Has a really great job. Good relationship with siblings and parents, relatively no qualms besides chronic depression. I’ve had a diff up bringing. Broken home, moved out at 20/ have funded everything myself since 16, bumpy relationship with mom/ dad, good job(s), lives alone, blah blah blah. Diagnosed & medicated for bipolar, chronic anxiety and depression, etc., You get the picture.
To start it off, I’ve always struggled with depression/ anxiety but for the most part am super high functioning and medicated. I’ve gained a lot of weight from one of my meds so I’m slowly tapering off of it and I’ve literally just fallen into a deep depression. Go figure.
He’s also struggled with depression/ body image issues. Both of us have really worked to not let our mental interfere with us. Something we’ve really struggled with is his need to be in the gym for like 3 hrs a night 5 days a week religiously. If the schedule goes out of whack he gets down. Reddit users are pretty harsh but this is a pretty reasonable issue and I do empathize with him for it. I can’t imagine missing one thing a day and have my entire week thrown off kinda thing (I mean I can but you get the point). And no he’s not cheating lol. Sometimes I’ll post something related to the whole gym issue on Reddit and everyone’s like he’s gotta have another girl!!! Lol.
So to put it plainly; in addition to my meds issue, I’m moving. I’m so overwhelmed because yanno, mental illness plus something as chaotic as moving is ehhhh. I find solace in peace at home. I’m a very big introvert. And my home is anything but peaceful right now lol. I also have severe and chronic back pain, have since I was like 16 bc scoliosis, then recent weight gain, and my work desk not being ergonomically at the moment— so these back issues makes anything I want to do in life harder and adds to my bleh. Add in the fact I’ve tried many mattresses and finally had to bite the bullet and spend FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS on one (tempur). Just as I got ahead of my bills too. Fml. I work two jobs (doesn’t help the back pain). And I got rejected from a job I really wanted because of bullshit. I know the other candidate and she’s got no where’s near the experience I did. I can handle job rejection it’s apart of life but this one stung a lot because I was confident and so sure I blew them out of the water (I know someone in the department so that’s why I have all this extra info). So to lose it for virtually no reason besides the systems rigged, is fucking annoying. 3 (of the 8) people on my team at work are on extended medical leave and work has been CRAZY. I work in oncology and the doctors are so far up my ass because we’re behind despite me working OD overtime. Anyways. I went on a rant of all the shitty things rn bc I have a point to make lol.
Idk. I just expected my boyfriend to be a bit more helpful tangibly. Make my life easier. Help me with something. He’s super supportive verbally but like idk I just expect something more than what he’s giving me. Like take a day off of the gym and say hey babe ik you’re under stress let me help you. I’ll do your dishes. I’ll help you pack. Anything really.
He is helping me move and I’m grateful for that, obviously, but I just want to know if I’m taking out my frustrations on him because she’s the closest to me or am I reasonable for wishing he’d drop his life for mine?
Also note he’s taking Thursday- Tuesday to stay with me and help me settle in. I think what sparked this is because today he stopped by to go on a walk with me and despite me being in my pot of misery, he still went to gym. Seemed insensitive. I want to be babied. Ok maybe this is a daddy issue thing?
Pls no advice on compromising. I can think of a million ways to compromise and make both parties happy, I just really want to know if me being upset is valid. I haven’t brought the issue to him yet just because I don’t want to shit on his parade just bc my life rn is <. I really am open to constructive criticism so if I’m being a diva please tell me I need to hear it. My head is not on straight given everything which is why I’m here wondering do I even have a reason to be upset or am I being a lot.
And like we all know Reddit is a cruel harsh world but just try to take it easy on me rn I’m fragile lol.
TL;DR! Am I unreasonable for wanting my boyfriend to be a lot more helpful than he currently is because my life sucks right now?

I'm sure behavior is correct. I'm just not sure I understand why it's correct.
This is about rendeBuild() cycles and creation/use of BuildContext objects.
(Warning: had to add lots of code here because setup is complex. Just asking for confirmation of my understanding, so feel free to move on to next post...)
Scenario: Screen 1 has an InheritedWidget. Clicking a button in Screen 1 causes render of Screen 2. Screen 2 can't see/find the inherited widget.
Here's the InheritedWidget definition, just for reference. Nothing relevant (I don't think).

class MyInheritedWidget extends InheritedWidget { final int theIntValue; MyInheritedWidget({ Key? key, required this.theIntValue, required Widget child, }) : super(key: key, child: child); u/override bool updateShouldNotify(MyInheritedWidget oldWidget) { return false; } static MyInheritedWidget? of(BuildContext context) { return context.dependOnInheritedWidgetOfExactType(); } } 

Here's "Screen 1" that embeds the InheritedWidget and renders the button.
As expected, while rendering the button container it's in the same context and can "see" the InheritedWidget fine (point A).

class Screen1Root extends StatelessWidget { u/override Widget build(BuildContext context) { return MyInheritedWidget( // <-- CREATE theIntValue: 999, child: ButtonContainer(), ); } } class ButtonContainer extends StatelessWidget { @override Widget build(BuildContext context) { /* A */ final iw = MyInheritedWidget.of(context); print('At point A, iw = $iw'); // <-- IS OBJECT // Content: ElevatedButton and click handler. Nothing else. return ElevatedButton( onPressed: () { // Now in async callback executed later Navigator.push( context, MaterialPageRoute( builder: (someNewContext) { // Now in builder, executed even later still /* B */ final iw = MyInheritedWidget.of(someNewContext); print('At point B, iw = $iw'); // <-- IS NULL return Screen2Root( ); }), ); // end Navigator.push() }, child: Text('Go') ); } } 

Render pass finishes, Screen 1 fully rendered, button sitting there but not yet clicked.
Output so far is:

flutter: At point A, iw = MyInheritedWidget <-- As expected 

Click the button. The onPressed() callback starts, and executes

() { Navigator.push( ... ... new Screen2Root() widget ) } 

Here's screen 2's widget definition

class Screen2Root extends StatelessWidget { const Screen2Root({super.key}); @override Widget build(BuildContext context) { /* C */ final iw = MyInheritedWidget.of(context); print('At point C, iw = $iw'); // <-- IS NULL return Scaffold( appBar: AppBar( title: const Text('Test Screen') ), body: Text('Destination screen'), ); } } 

The total output is:

flutter: At point A, iw = MyInheritedWidget flutter: At point B, iw = null flutter: At point C, iw = null 

So the code in the button click handler (point B) fails to find the InheritedWidget, as does everything in Screen2Root widget (point C).
So it appears true that invoking an async event-triggered callback creates a new rendering context that is entirely divorced from the earlier rendering round that rendered Screen 1, and the widget tree that created.
Put another way: Screen 2's root widget is not a child of Screen 1 widgets, or any part of Screen 1.
(right?)
So... (?) it's rendering a new widget tree for Screen 2, and that will get added to the tree next to Screen 1, but is not a descendent of Screen 1.
Correct?
Or am I still confused?
This interpretation matches what I see in VSCode's "widget inspector" but I just want to be certain I understand the concept. [As the entire point of what I'm working on is getting an object, wrapped in an InheritedWidget, into Screen 2.]

There sat this man, All alone in his wasteland. No souls for miles, He’s finally built up the guile.
Fingers under the edge, Of the beautiful mask upon his face. He pulls… and he pulls some more. He pulled until he feels the skin tear.
In pain he shrieks, With tears in his eyes. He pulls harder and harder. Until his dream is realized.
The weight gone, he breathes a sigh. It’s now he knows, That what once was safe, Was an actual parasite.
Sincerely, The Lonely Poet

Hello, I've had eczema my entire life, and out of all the miserable full body flare-ups and painful creams, this has been the worst I've ever felt in my life.
On Friday, I noticed I started to feel a burning sensation around my eyes and tear line but I just assumed it was a really bad eczema flare up and treated it as such, slathering it with moisture cream and opselura and eventually clobetasol because it was hurting so bad with questionably clean hands. I had also been on Rinvoq for a year now and just recently upped the dosage. Saturday I was traveling back from Canada to the states all day and at this point I was struggling to keep my right eye open and it was a constant burning and was starting to ooze yellow liquid. I continued treating it the same way but I didn't have access to wash my hands as I was on planes most of the day and was frantic to control the burning. Sunday I knew something wasn't right and went to urgent care, who redirected me to the emergency room, where they diagnosed me with pink eye and sent me on my way with antibacterial eye drops and told me to take Ibuprophen after being suspicious that it hurt. I've never had pink eye in my life, but something wasn't adding up for me, like if it was pink eye why was other old flared up areas of eczema on my body starting to bluster, and why was the right side of my face breaking out in blisters and pimples when I never have pimples ever. Finally yesterday I went to see my eye doctor and dermatologist and they both said this wasn't pink eye, and that this was eczematic herpes. They prescribed me a cocktail of antiviral eyedropper, antibiotic eyedrops, antiviral and antibiotic oral medications, and told me to use ibuprofen and tylenol and Vaseline for comfort.
I know its only been a day since I've been doing all this, but I don't feel any improvement yet and it still hurts like hell, the painkillers feel like they do nothing. I cant sleep and even if I cry in frustration it just makes it hurt more. Ice packs help distract the pain until it doesn't, same with warm towels and Vaseline. I'm so tired of the constant pain its complete torture and I have to pay bills soon and I need to work so badly. I cant do anything all day except listen to YouTube videos and sleep I'm so frustrated I hate this so much and I feel so alone.

There sat this man. All alone in his wasteland. No souls for miles, He’s finally built up the guile.
Fingers under the edge, Of the beautiful mask upon his face. He pulls… and he pulls some more. He pulled until he feels the skin tear.
In pain he shrieks. With tears in his eyes, He pulls harder and harder Until his dream is realized.
The weight gone, he breathes a sigh. It’s now he knows, That what once was safe. Was an actual parasite.
Sincerely, The Lonely Poet

I was a college rower, but because I had a good running test times, I walked on the cross country team my junior year when I was 20. I never had any running or exercise related injuries prior, and the only major difference in intensity was that i was increasing my running mileage on XC, and ran on my heels, not my toes (which I always did before, until someone told me it was bad form). About 6-8 weeks in my left knee started giving out. During my final race my coach told me that a reason my knee hurts is because it naturally turned inward, so he put tape to shift it to the center. I raced with the tape and felt less pain, but I could hardly stand up after I finished, and had issues walking for 3-4 weeks after.
I only did cross country for 3 months but the knee problems stayed from then on. I used to be able to run for miles with zero pain besides muscle fatigue. Now, if I run for more than 3 miles, the outer part of my left knee hurts immensely afterwards, to the point where it’s hard to manage stairs, walking, and for the first 2-3 days it’s even hard to fall asleep because it aches so much. Even on less intensive workouts, like a leisurely hike, I know my knee will give out and I’ll have to hobble on it if I’m walking for more than 2-3 hours. It’s so frustrating because I LOVE walking, hiking, and running and I’m not even physically worn out by the time my knee gives me issues. While stretching helps, I know it’s never completely alleviated the pain.
For now, I’ll stick to rowing because I know my knee won’t hurt doing it. But could chronic pain on the outer part of one knee point to a more specific issue? What can I do to relieve it, or was the damage done when I was in college?