Xue Feng Though the modern medicine has limited knowledge of human bodies, what we have known is enough for us to admire the excellent human body structure and functions. Each system and organ in the human body is designed by the Greatest Creator. Even those trivial body parts have great functions. For example, there are several types of hairs on human bodies with distinct forms and functions. The head hair is designed to protect and beautify the head. It can grow long. According to the Bible, “But if a woman has long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.” The eyebrows can divert sweat and rain, preventing them into the eyes. That’s why they are lined above the two eyes. Eyelashes can prevent the dust and other things from entering the eyes. That’s why they are lined on the sides of the eyelids. Also they stand forward in a special curve because it wouldn’t hinder the eyesight or pierce into the eyes when closing the eyes. If the eyebrows and eyelashes are too long, they will hinder the eyesight. That’s why they wouldn’t grow as long as the hair or beards. The nasal hairs can filter the inhaled air. That’s why they grow inside the nostril and stand sideways and outwards. If they stand inwards, the other things will find it easy to come into the nostrils and difficult to go out. The armpit hairs can prevent the partial friction and help the sweat evaporate. Without the armpit hairs, we have to raise our arms. Otherwise the skin under the arm will become inflamed because of the friction and moist. Required by the function, the armpit hairs cannot grow as long as the head hairs, or as short as the eyebrows. Besides, they are soft and curving. If they are rigid and coarse, they will hurt the skin. And cilia grow on the intestinal epithelium. The cilia grow downward and vibrate together. The vibrating waves move downward from upward to help move down the intestinal contents. Cilia also grow on the airway and bronchus epithelium. However, they grow and vibrate in the opposite direction as those on the intestinal epithelium. Only in this way can they move the sputum upward to the throat and spit them. If they grow downward, the airway and bronchus would get stuck by the sputum and the humans would die from it. Now I wish to take two simple reflections of human bodies as an example. When foreign matters enter the nostrils or airways, they will arouse two protective reflections, sneeze or cough, which is designed to repel the foreign matters. But due to different situation, these two reflections differ in their approaches. The foreign matters in the nostrils are not urgent so the sneeze reflection can be prepared in a composed way. First, inhale slowly; open the mouth, and the soft place move upward to block the nostril. Then breathe in enough air through the mouth, and the pleural body contracts sharply to emit the air in the lungs quickly. When the emitting reaches its peak, the tongue rises abruptly to block the mouth to repel the air to go out swiftly through the nostrils. In this way the foreign matters in the nostrils are driven out. However, if the foreign matters enter the airway, it is an emergent situation. If the foreign matters are not driven out timely, the life will be put at risk. The inhaling is strictly forbidden because it will make the foreign matters go deeper and cause suffocation. So the cough doesn’t include the inhaling. Instead, the glottis closes immediately. At the same time, the pleural body contracts suddenly and adds the lung air pressure extremely. When the pressure is at its strongest point, the glottis opens suddenly and the lung air sends out explosively, compelling the foreign matters in the airway to the throat via the glottis. At this time, the soft place rises to block the nostrils. The foreign matters are spit out through the mouth. If the tongue and the soft place perform the same way as in the sneeze, the foreign matters emitted out of the airway will enter the nostrils, causing another trouble. In these two reflections, the body parts must cooperate closely. Any failure in the coordination will lead to the failure of the reflection, causing serious consequences. So these activities are not done freely. Instead, they are done as required by their functions and set procedures. These procedures are not learnt or practices. The program has been rooted in our brain nerve structure (nerve nucleus) when we are born. Otherwise, the babies will not survive. The advanced computer science has made it possible to simulate these activities. However, the simulation requires 3 conditions: 1. Device simulating the inhale and exhaling of human mouth, nose, throat, pleural and the sensing device; 2. The central control equipment simulating nerves and body system (compute, input and output devices). The above two devices are hardware. And software is also needed, namely (3). A program composed in strict compliance with the requirements to control the performance and procedure of each link, and arrange them in perfect coordination. All the three conditions are imperative. Otherwise the reflections can’t be realized. The program itself is not a substance structure. Instead, it is a smart use and spiritual result. There will be no such a thing as the program without the smart use. So we have to ask, the program is composed by the humans and stored in the computer, how about the control program in the human brain. Is it also composed by someone and stored in the human brain? Sneeze and cough are the simplest examples. There are numerous automatically controlled physical, bio-chemical and pathological human body activities, which are even more sophisticated than reflections of cough. Even today, some of them remain mysteries to us. So how are these sophisticated control programs composed? And where do they come from? Now let’s have a look at the sensory organs on human bodies. Why do we have two ears? The reason is that one ear is not able to identify the direction. With the ears lying on two sides of the head, the sound reaches the ears in sequence of time. Based on the slight receiving time difference, the brain can judge where the sound comes from. The auricle is the most outward component of the ear. It can introduce the sound into the external auditory canal. Within the auricle there is a thin layer of cartilage helping to retain the form of auricle, giving it wonderful elasticity and protecting it from the clashes. Without the cartilage, the auricle is just two useless pieces of skin hanging on the head side. If the thin bone is inside the auricle, it will break easily even if when you are sleeping on your side, damaging the auricle. There is fuzz on the outer segment of the external auditory canal preventing the sand and dust. The inner segment secretes cerumen to prevent insects. When foreign matters enter the external auditory canal, it will trigger head shaking, instead of sneeze or cough, to get the matters out. Because the external auditory canal is a blind passage, it is impossible to repel the foreign matters with air. Why don’t the foreign matters in the nostrils arouse the head-shaking reflection to repel them? That’s because the nostrils of humans almost lie in the middle of the head. The shaking is not able to produce enough centrifugal force. Besides, the human nostrils face downward and it is improper to repel the foreign matters by shaking the head. The sound is produced by the mechanical vibration of objects and is transmitted by the air fluctuation, or the sound waves. The human ears are actually working like a precise mechanical vibration monitor. In the inner ear there are a number of keyboards with different sizes, producing nerve impulses produced by echoing with corresponding frequencies. The brain, in accordance with the features of these impulses, identifies the strength, tunes and timbre of the sounds. We must note though there are many sensory organs in human bodies, only the inner ear is protected by the most solid and firm bones. In fact, it lies in the cave part of the temporal bone. Of all the sensory organs, only the ears monitor the mechanical vibration, which needs a relatively fixed position. Otherwise, it is not able to monitor the sound. If the inner ear lies in the soft tissues, when the sound wave arrives, the inner ear will vibrate with it. Thus it can hear nothing. Now the inner ear lies in the firm bone and it can’t sense the air vibration. So it is imperative to reduce the density waves to the mechanical vibrations before sending them to the inner ear. And there is such a reduction device at the middle bottom of the external auditory canal, which is called the eardrum. The eardrum has enough space to receive the air pressure. It is thin enough to vibrate when the sound wave arrives. Meanwhile, the eardrum is strong enough to push the transmission device. The long handle of the middle ear cartilage is attached to its inner side, the tensile force of which makes the eardrum sink inside slightly to maintain certain tension. This allows the eardrum to accurately reduce the arriving sound waves into the mechanical vibrations. No matter what the temperature is, the vibration function is not impacted. After the sound waves are reduced into the mechanical vibration, some rigid objects are needed to transmit the vibration to the inner ear. Of all body tissues, the most rigid objects are the bones. However, the bones are heavy in general and covered by the soft tissues, which are not suitable for the audio vibration. However, in the tympanic cavity between the eardrum and the inner ear, there are three unique tiny bones with delicate forms measured in millimeters. They are almost completely exposed to the air in the tympanic cavity. These three tiny bones are connected by ligament and form a transmission chain in curve with excellent audio vibration function, able to transmit accurately the vibration of the eardrum to the inner ear. The transmission device can properly multiply the weak vibration and reduce the strong sound wave. All of these structures are the super designs required by the acoustics. There are even smarter designs in the hearing organ. For example, to make the eardrum vibrate freely following the arriving sound waves, the two sides of the eardrums must be exposed to the air. As a result, there is a tympanic cavity full of air in the middle ear. If the cavity is filled by liquids, just as other cavities are, the eardrum is not able to vibrate because the liquids can’t contract. Besides, the cavity does not only need to be filled with air, but also needs to be connected to the outside world with a proper passage, to balance the static air pressure in the cavity with the outside air pressure. Otherwise, the air in the cavity will gradually be absorbed, causing the eardrum to sink excessively or damaging it. When the outside air pressure changes, (such as in mountain climbing, diving, the airplane takeoff or climate change), it will arouse uncomfortable feelings or lead to hearing malfunction. But the middle ear can’t be opened to the outside world directly, just like the external auditory canal or nostrils can. The reason is that the direct exposure will make the arriving waving sound reach the two sides of the eardrums at the same time via the external auditory canal and middle ear passage, counteracting the sound pressure. Thus the eardrums will not vibrate at all, unable to produce the hearing. So it is a difficult problem to connect the middle ear and the outside world. However, the human body, with a smart design, solves this problem. The middle ear is opened at the two sides in the upper rear of the pharynx via a half-opened passage (the so-called auditory tube). The auditory tube is locked in common times and only opened temporarily when taking the swallowing actions, balancing the air pressure in the middle ear shortly. After the swallowing action is over, the auditory tube is locked again. Apart from eating, human body would regularly take swallowing action unconsciously, even when he or she is sleeping. Thus the air pressure in the middle ear can be adjusted from time to time and avoid the hearing from being hindered. Besides, when swallowing, the swallowing segment and the soft palate will definitely rise, blocking the mouth and nostrils against the outside world. So on the moment when the ear and throat are opened shortly, though the air in the throat can enter the middle ear, the sound waves from the outside world are blocked against the middle ear. As a result, the hearing will not be interfered and can receive the outside sound and voice. Only the throat in the body can meet the special demand of the hearing organs. The throat is originally designed as part of the digestion and breathing system, it does not belong to sensory system. However, it can cooperate so smartly with the hearing organs. We have to admire the extremely delicate body-wise design. The vestibule in the inner ear controls the balance of the body. In the vestibule there are 3 semicircular canals. When the body loses balance, the mutually-vertical semicircular canals produce the balance impulse, which triggers the corresponding reflection via the balance center in the medulla brain. Why are there 3 semicircular canals instead of 2 or 4? And why are they mutually vertical? The reason is apparent. Humans live in the 3-dimensional space. There are 3 mutually-vertical movement directions, namely, front and rear, left and right, upward and downward. So the 3 mutually-vertical semicircular canals can monitor the movements. The number less than 3 or more than 3 would be insufficient or redundant. We can see the delicate and smart structure and function, and the supreme wisdom in them. They can’t be the accidental results. As the most important perception of human bodies, vision provides more information than that provided by all other perceptions. The vision is the perception of image and space and the visual organs must have the most precise and accurate structure completely different from other sensory organs. As a result, in the perspective of the embryo-genesis or neuro-anatomy, the main structure of the eyes is not just the common receptor. Instead, it is part of the cerebral cortex. The so-called optic nerves are completely different from other cerebrospinal nerves. In essence, the optic nerves are inner structure in the brain, transmitting the most sophisticated visual information. The eyes function like a precise camera. The retina composed of the photoreceptor cells is just like the films. The crystal, iris and the cornea works like the lens, diaphragm and the filter. However, the precision and automatic adjustment of the eyes is no match of any high-quality cameras. For example, the lens in modern cameras is made of special glass or hard plastics with fixed focal distance. When taking pictures for the landscapes with different distances, the lens position must be adjusted. Otherwise, the image will not be produced on the films. But this is an awkward approach. Imagine when the eyes are watching landscapes with different distances, the eyeballs have to protrude or recess alternatively, which looks ugly or damages the health and function of the eyes. However, the crystal in the eyes are transparent and elastic colloid, which can adjust automatically the focal distance in accordance with the distance of the objects to make sure all the objects can be imaged on the retina, without changing the position of the crystal. Such automatic adjustment function can’t be fulfilled by any camera. If we observe the eyes in the perspective of modern TV technologies, the eyes are more like the television camera, but thousands of times more precise than the television cameras. The TV image is composed of dense pixels (the mixed dark or brilliant light spots). Till now, the best TV image only contains less than 1 million pixels. However, the human eyes can produce image containing 20 billion pixels. Only the eyes can see the details of objects. No matter how clear or accurate the image is, it is still a plan view image. Then how the eyes can provide the dimensional image is a key issue of providing the complete vision. But it is not an easy task at all to convert the flat view image into the dimensional one. For a long time, people have been puzzled by how the conversion is done. Of course, we later knew the smartness and delicacy of the human body shown here. The two eyes send the flat view images they receive into the same nerve center, which contrasts and analyzes the images and judges the distance of the objects based on the slight visual angle difference caused by the position difference of the two eyes. Thus the dimensional image is produced. That’s why people have to have 2 eyes to establish the complete vision. Based on such understanding, humans have invented the dimensional movies. But the above is only the external process of how vision is formed. People have little knowledge about how the visual center works inside. We have to admit that the mysteries of human body structure and functions are beyond the intelligence of mankind. As a matter of fact, the distance judgment with two eyes is the triangulation technique which is precise and automatic. The accurate measurement needs two premises. First, the two eyes must focus on one object at the same time. Otherwise, there will be double vision, which means the one objects will be seen as two objects. As a result, the complete neuromuscular system is equipped on the outside of the eyeballs, making the eyeballs the most flexible and accurate organs. The ciliary muscle inside the eyeballs can adjust the conversion rate of the crystal at any time to focus on the object and form the clearest image. Second, the retina of the two eyes must be strictly symmetrical. Otherwise, the image contrast of the two eyes will become impossible. Furthermore, the images received by the two eyes must be transmitted at the same time to the same visual center for contrast and analysis. There are two visual nerves on the left and right side of the brain, supervising respectively the two sides of the vision field. The objects in the left of the vision field are reflected, via the eye pupil, on the retina of the right sides of the two eyeballs. The corresponding images in the two eyes, via the visual nerve, are sent to the visual center on the right side of the brain. The objects in the right of the vision field are reflected, via the eye pupil, on the retina of the left sides of the two eyeballs. The corresponding images in the two eyes, via the visual nerve, are sent to the visual center on the left side of the brain. The two visual nerves contrast the corresponding images coming from the eyes and produce the full-field dimensional images. The pairs of human parts are often symmetrical on the outside. Only the retinas are symmetrical in the same position. Namely, the left side is symmetrical to the left side and the right side symmetrical to the right side of the two retinas. That’s because the light rays come in directly. Otherwise, the visual centers can’t receive the corresponding images or get the coordinated vision. The structural symmetry of the retinas in the two eyes must be accurate to the utmost. Otherwise the images in the two eyes will not comply with each other and the ambiguity will occur. Besides, the corresponding images from the two eyes must be sent to the same visual center. Thus the optic nerves must have the corresponding special structure to realize the cross-transmission of the images. This is the unique “chiasma opticum” unique to the optic nerves. This function is not possessed by any other nervus cerebrospinalis because they don’t handle the information of images and space. If we use the computers and monitoring cameras to simulate the process of human vision, the input network of the computers has to have a similar chiasm. No other design can do it. Judging from the above, we can find all the human organs, structures and functions have shown the supreme wisdom. And these are the ways they should be. Some people think that human body has some useless organs, such as the thymus gland, appendix, tonsil and coccyx, in order to prove the human structure is imperfect. Some people used to believe that these organs were not that useful. Instead, they tend to arouse diseases such as appendicitis and tonsillitis. If these organs are cut off, it will not have much impact on the human body. In the past, people used to classify spleens and other organs into the useless organs. There was a list of useless organs in the past which included over 100 organs. But the list was long not because these organs are useless but because people at the time were ignorant. As more we know about the organs, most of them have been deleted from the list and there are only a few still remain in the list. Some people think that these organs are the leftovers of human evolution, which are called the “waste back organs” and use them as one of the evidences of evolution theory. This is a complete misunderstanding. Till not we have understood there are no such things as the “obsolescent organs”. It is simply the lack of knowledge of these organs. Take the thymus gland as an example. In the past, people didn’t know its function. Now we have understood it is the warning device of the human body against the inner and outer infection sources. As a result, the thymus gland contributes a lot to the human health. Another example, if the coccyx fractures, it will cause serious functional disturbance. So the coccyx is also an imperative part of human body. Some people might say these organs can trigger diseases. Then all human organs can lead to diseases, even brain and heart are of no exceptions. Why don’t we say the brain and heart are useless? Some organs, though they are not as important as the heart and brain and wouldn’t endanger life immediately when eliminated, are also useful. Just like if the hands or feet are lost, though not fatal, the human body is handicapped. After knowing the supreme and smart design of human structures and functions, you might want to know how they come into being. Who has designed and made such sophisticated and precise organs? We cannot avoid the question. Any truth-seeking person would admit that the extremely delicate organs and structures are not produced naturally or accidently. For instance, if someone gives you a top-class camera and tells you it is a natural one without designer or manufacturer; do you think his words are scientific and acceptable? The human body, which is even more delicate, accurate, flexible and practical, must have a supremely wise and capable creator behind it. On a spring Sunday morning in 1954, I saw a young stranger sitting in the chamber of a Church. When we started to talk, I knew that he was a student at Peking Union Medical College. He said to me, “Since I studied anatomy and physiology, I have felt the human body is really a wonder. It is not possible to understand it unless we interpret the wonder with a God.” He came to the church to seek an answer. The wonder of this young man is not the only example. I remember that when I was studying anatomy and physiology in school, some students surrounded our physiology teacher and kept asking him questions. Finally, the teacher, annoyed by so many questions, told us, “Please stop the questions because they will lead to religion in the end.” Because of the special political background at the time, the teacher’s warning silenced all the students. But his warning impressed me deeply and remained in my memory till today. My thought at that time was that the teacher was right because all the things were created by the God. Though he was not a Christian, he had to admit the truth and the further probe into the human body mysteries (part of the Universe mysteries) would definitely lead to the existence of the God (religion) in the end. Otherwise, it would be impossible to explain the wonders of the human body. The Bible says, “For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse.”(1:20 Romans 1) Was the teacher demonstrating his scientific spirit? No. The scientific spirit means the truth and boldly pursuit of the truth without avoiding any controversy. The teacher knew very clearly that one more step forward would lead to the God but he dared not move onto the path towards the truth. Instead, he asked his students to stop there. It has shown that many people refuse to admit the existence of God not because they don’t have the scientific spirit but because of the social pressure, individual consideration for their interest and prospect, just as what the teacher was doing at that time. Nevertheless, the existence of the God would not change. And we cannot live in such considerations for the reality forever. One day in the future, when we have to face the ultimate choice, we will have to face the supreme master who has created the Universe and the human beings. The Bible says, “And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment.” If we don’t accept the immoral God now, we have no excuse when it comes to the day. When we talk about the origin of all things in the Universe, some young people often ask, “You have said the humans are created by the God, then who has created the God?” The analogizing logics seem to be reasonable. But it is not true. Because the God is the creator instead of the created, you can’t link these together. The table is made by the carpenter. But you cannot say the carpenter and the table have the same origin. Human benings’ understand of the God is only limited to the enlightenment from the God to the humans. Otherwise, humans cannot understand the mystery of God’s nature. The God says, “I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.” (Exodus 3:14 and Revelation 1:8). For the God, there is only the eternality, and there is no time, beginning or ending. Even in the scientific field, too many analogizing questions won’t be tolerated. One scholar was talking about the belief in the God with his students. One student asked suddenly and proudly, “Where does the Universe come from?” The scholar answers, “The Universe is created by the God.” The student continued to ask, “Who has created the God?” The scholar answered, “The God is Alpha and Omega and I am not created.” The student said, “This is not scientific at all.” The scholar then asked the student, “Where does the Earth come from?” The student answered, “The Earth comes from the Sun.” The scholar continued to ask, “Where does the Sun come from?” The student answered, “The Sun comes from the Galaxy.” The scholar asked again, “Where does the Galaxy come from?” The student hesitated and answered, “The Galaxy comes from the nature.” The scholar continued to ask, “Where does the nature come from?” The student couldn’t answer this question and said in anger, “The nature is the nature and comes naturally.” The scholar then laughed, “This is not scientific at all.” So we can conclude that the “scientific” answers are not scientific. Another example is that the sciences tell people that substances are composed of the molecules. Then what are the molecules composed of? The molecules are composed of the atoms. But what are the atoms composed of? They are composed of the electrons, protons and neutrons. Then what are the electrons, protons and neutrons composed of? Till now, we cannot find an answer to this question. The atomic physicists are now working hard to find the “elementary particle”. They are called “basic particles” because the scientists don’t expect the substances to be divided limitlessly. So they believe that one day they will find the ultimate component, the “elementary particle”. Of course, the scientists will not ask such question of “what is something composed of?” This is the extremity and everything ends here. The materialists claim that the Universe is limitless and that the materials are eternal and can be divided limitlessly, etc. They are simply the groundless conclusion of the philosophers. And there is an extremity in their logics, the materials. They say that the materials are Alpha and Omega but can’t tell where the materials come from. Now let’s have a look at the math. All numbers come from 1, followed by 2, 3…. You can’t ask what the 1 is because 1 is 1, and not other numbers. It means that 1 is the origin of all numbers. The Greatest Creator has created all things and the Greatest Creator is the origin of them. It will be meaningless to ask where the Greatest Creator comes from.

Back in 2018 I was in a relationship with a woman for about a year and a half. Things seemed good in the relationship at the beginning but at the end it didn’t end the greatest but me and this woman remained friends until recently. During the relationship I paid for all of her expenses because she didn’t work. At the time it seemed like it was the right thing to do as a man but I honestly thought it that because I had came into some money which she knew about and I thought everything was okay. Until I ran out of money, lost my job and barely could afford my own expenses. It seemed like her priorities were above mine. I know some of you are going to say why didn’t I have any sense that this chick was a gold digger, well I had lost my mother the year before and for three years I wasn’t in the right head space. I guess you could say that spending money on my girl giving her the things she wanted and making her happy was therapeutic for me which it was. But in reality it was a form of self destruction. Fast forward to after our breakup she said that she still needed my help and I’m thinking why would you still want me in my life? At the end of the day it was all for the money. I helped her hear and there whatever I could even times when I almost had nothing. One time in particular she asked me for 40 dollars and I literally had 50 bucks to my name and that money was suppose to get me through until payday. I told her that and instead of feeling sorry for me she said that payday was a week away and that I would be okay. Again another red flag. Did I give her the money? Unfortunately i did. Fast forward to now I have a great job, a vehicle that paid for out of my own pocket, nice place and in probably the best head space that I’ve ever been in. This woman sees that I’m successful and yet she still asked me for handouts. I’ve even explained to her that I shouldn’t have to bust my ass just so she can get my money. I said NO many many times but it would get to a point that she would threaten to call my job to get me fired and she’s threatened to vandalize my vehicle. I got to a point to where I couldn’t do it anymore. She called me out of the blue one day to tell me she’s going to start door dashing and asks for money so she can get gas. I had finally reached my breaking point so I told her that if I give her any money that she would be blocked from everything and that if she comes to my house or my job she would be charged for trespassing. She said that’s fine but if I go ahead with it that it would be the most fucked up thing I’ve ever done. I just looked at the amount of money she’s got from me and told her that the amount she’s got from me is something a fucked up friend does. As of now she hasn’t tried to get ahold of me, I’ve got cameras at my house so in case she tries something slick. If you made it to the end god bless you and my question to you is did I do wrong by blocking this woman. I know I did the right thing but I want the public’s opinion.
Thank you.

I hesitate to post this because I've been on reddit for years and know ya'll can be vultures but here it goes:
TL;DR - Fiancé and I are confused and exhausted. We're currently a dead bedroom, it's my doing. He needs more physical intimacy and for some reason I can't provide it. He has cheated, only since physical intimacy stopped, although he does not agree it is cheating. He knows he has hurt me. Blah blah blah, wedding is postponed, we've discussed an open relationship and/or taking a break.
Background:
We have been together for 10 years, engaged 2. We're in our early 30s. Wedding is planned for next year. No kids, but 3 dogs together.
The beginning of our relationship was like any new relationship. We were young, the honeymoon phase seemed never-ending as we didn't see each other often, and sex was new and exciting.
2 years into dating, I started birth control. Immediately, we didn't notice many sexual side effects, but looking back, there probably were. We had both been taking antidepressants/ anti-anxiety medication before we met, and we both currently still take those medications. We know these have sexual side effects, for both of us.
After dating a few years we moved in together and shortly after, sex became infrequent. About 3 years into living together he brought up concerns about lack of sex and physical intimacy. I eventually realized I got comfortable and content, and didn't prioritize sex and physical intimacy as I should have been. I promised I would change, but I unfortunately didn't. Around this time, he sent a nude photo of himself to a friend of mine. I couldn't believe it, he told me a few days later, and promised to never do anything like that or to hurt me like that again.
Fast forward to now, we own a house together, and still unfortunately, I have done little to nothing to increase my sex drive and physical intimacy. I start little things but no progress is made. For example I say I'm going to plan a "sexy time" but it just doesn't happen. I did surprise him with a photo album of sexy polaroids of myself, which he enjoyed. But maybe a year later he asked a different friend of mine for sexy photos. I think he's just missing that attention that I should be giving him. His love language is physical touch, mine is acts of service and gift giving, and I struggle to show him love in the way he wants to be shown (physically.)
Since our engagement, the past year has been filled with discussions about our dead bedroom: why it happened, can we fix it, etc. For both of us, it's been almost impossible to be excited about being engaged or planning a wedding or getting married because of this issue. We've agreed that we don't want to get married if we're not excited, so we're postponing the wedding. Also, we both see a therapist and have started couples therapy.
Where it gets complicated:
He recently told me that last year, he visited a club a few times. Only on one occasion it got physical: he received a handjob, (I do believe him because at this point there's nothing to hide.) This handjob visit occurred 6 months after he proposed. Leading up to these club visits (which remember, I didn't know about until recently) he would urge me in a healthy way to be intimate, communicate his needs, and so on. But for whatever my multitude of reasons are that I'm working out in therapy (vaginismus, piled on stress, self-esteem issues, maybe not being attracted or turned on by my partner, low libido, possible imbalanced hormones, health scares that may have caused trauma) I just couldn't do it. Of course I regret it, I don't know what's wrong with me and I wish I could snap my fingers and fix it. So I do understand why he went to that club.
We truly do not know what to do. We love each other. We've been through so much, helped each other through a lifetime of stressful events, and experienced such great things together. We've talked about our future together for the past decade. But we also recognize that time spent together does not mean you should or are obligated to stay together. We recognize that right now, neither of us are happy and something needs to change.
We've briefly mentioned opening our relationship, taking a break, or both. But we don't know what that entails. Since we live together and the dogs are like our children, we don't know how a break would logistically work. As for opening our relationship, considering the infidelity, I just don't know. But at the same time, there is no sex or intimacy happening and I want to see him happy in that way. I feel like it would improve his mental health. Our therapist has been focusing more on us rather than discussing those options at the moment.
Of course there is so much more to a decade-long relationship, and I'm trying to be as neutral as possible when writing this. But we just feel like we're in this best friend, roommate, sometimes cuddle limbo and are avoiding truly discussing it because we know the options...we just don't. know. what. to. do. So if anyone has any actual advice, similar stories, or experiences with an open relationship or taking a break (while engaged) please share.
Also if you're going to respond with something unnecessary or unhelpful like "just break up" we'll save you the time and say thank you, we've discussed that option as well.

I’ve always hated the smell of gun oil. It clings to everything it touches, soaking deep into the fibers of my clothes, the lining of my backpack, the coarse hair on the back of my hands. Yet here I am, kneeling on the cracked linoleum of our mudroom, a Remington .308 laid across my thighs, and the stench of gun oil sharp in my nostrils. The early morning light barely scratches at the edges of the blinds, dim and gray like the belly of a dead fish.
My dad Frank is in the kitchen, clattering around with the coffeepot and mumbling under his breath. Today we’re heading up to the woods of Northern Michigan, same as we did every year before Leah… before we lost her.
I can’t help but feel the old scars throbbing as I load bullets into the magazine. It’s been ten years since that hunting trip, the one that tore my family into before and after. Before, when Leah's laughter was a constant soundtrack to our lives; after, when every silence was filled with her absence.
We were just kids back then. I was ten, Leah was eight. It was supposed to be a typical hunting trip, one of those bonding experiences Dad was always talking about. But things went wrong. We got separated from Dad somehow. One minute we were following him, the next we were lost, the dense woods closing in around us.
Dad says when he found me, I was huddled under a fallen tree, my eyes wide, my body frozen. All I could mutter through chattering teeth was "Dogman."
It was only later, after the search parties had combed through every thicket and hollow, that they found her. What remained of Leah was barely recognizable, the evidence of a brutal mauling undeniable. The authorities concluded it was likely a bear attack, but Dad... he never accepted that explanation. He had seen the tracks, too large and oddly shaped for any bear.
As I load another round, the memory flashes, unbidden and unwelcome. Large, hairy clawed hands reaching out towards us, impossibly big, grotesque in their form. Yet, the rest of the creature eludes me, a shadow just beyond the edge of my recall, leaving me with nothing but fragmented terrors and Leah’s haunting, echoing screams. My mind blocked most of it out, a self-defense mechanism, I guess.
For years after that day, sleep was a battleground. I'd wake up in strange places—kitchen floor, backyard, even at the edge of the nearby creek. My therapist said it was my mind's way of trying to resolve the unresolved, to wander back through the woods searching for Leah. But all I found in those sleepless nights was a deeper sense of loss.
It took time, a lot of therapy, and patience I didn't know I had, but the sleepwalking did eventually stop. I guess I started to find some semblance of peace.
I have mostly moved on with my life. The fragmentary memories of that day are still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, but they don’t dominate my thoughts like they used to. I just finished my sophomore year at Michigan State, majoring in Environmental Science.
As for Dad, the loss of Leah broke him. He became a shell of himself. It destroyed his marriage with Mom. He blamed himself for letting us out of his sight, for not protecting Leah. His life took on a single, consuming focus: finding the creature that killed her. He read every book, every article on cryptids and unexplained phenomena. He mapped sightings, connected dots across blurry photos and shaky testimonies of the Dogman.
But as the tenth anniversary of Leah’s death approaches, Dad's obsession has grown more intense. He’s started staying up late, poring over his maps and notes, muttering to himself about patterns and cycles. He’s convinced that the dogman reappears every ten years, and this is our window of opportunity to finally hunt it down.
I’m not nearly as convinced. The whole dogman thing seems like a coping mechanism, a way for Dad to channel his guilt and grief into something tangible, something he can fight against. But I decided to tag along on this trip, partly to keep an eye on him, partly because a small part of me hopes that maybe, just maybe, we’ll find some kind of closure out there in the woods.
I finish loading the rifle and set it aside, standing up to stretch my legs. I wipe my greasy hands on an old rag, trying to get rid of the smell. The early morning light is starting to seep into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.
Dad comes out of the kitchen with two thermoses of coffee in hand. His eyes are bleary and tired.
“You ready, Ryan?” he asks, handing me a thermos, his voice rough from too many sleepless nights.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We load our gear into the truck, the weight of our supplies and weapons a physical reminder of the burden we carry. The drive from Lansing across the Lower Peninsula is long and quiet, the silence between us filled with unspoken memories and unresolved grief.
—
The drive north is a blur of highway lines and the dull hum of the engine. I drift off, the landscape outside blending into a haze. In my sleep, fragments of that day with Leah replay like scattered pieces of a puzzle. I see her smile, the way she tugged at my sleeve, eager to explore. The sunlight filters through the trees in sharp, jagged streaks.
Then, the memory shifts—darker, disjointed. Leah's voice echoes, a playful laugh turning into a scream that pierces the air. The crunch of leaves underfoot as something heavy moves through the underbrush. I see a shadow, large and looming, not quite fitting the shapes of any creature I know.
Then, something darker creeps into the dream, something I’ve never allowed myself to remember clearly.
Before I can see what it is I wake up with a start as the truck jerks slightly on a rough patch of road. Dad glances over. "Bad dream?" he asks. I nod, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the remnants of the dream clinging to me like the cold.
"Yeah, just... thinking about Leah," I manage to say.
As we drive, Dad attempts to bridge the silence with small talk. He asks about my finals, my plans for the summer, anything to keep the conversation going. His voice carries a forced cheerfulness, but it’s clear his heart isn’t in it. I respond when necessary, my answers brief, my gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
The landscape changes as we head further north, from flat expanses to rolling hills dotted with dense patches of forest. It's beautiful country, the kind that reminds you how vast and wild Michigan can be, but today it just feels oppressive, like it’s closing in on us.
—
We finally arrive at the cabin, nestled deep in the woods, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The place hasn't changed much since the last time I was here—a relic from another time, filled with the echoes of our past. I can still see Leah running around the porch, her laughter ringing out into the forest.
Dad parks the truck, and we step out into the crisp air. The smell of pine and damp earth fills my nostrils. We start unloading our gear, the tension between us palpable.
“Let’s get this inside,” Dad says, his voice gruff as he hefts a duffel bag onto his shoulder.
I nod, grabbing my own bag and following him to the cabin. Inside, it’s a mix of old and new—the same rustic furniture, but with new hunting gear and maps strewn across the table. Dad’s obsession is evident in every corner of the room, a constant reminder of why we’re here.
As we unpack, we exchange strained attempts at normalcy. He talks about the latest cryptid sightings he’s read about, his eyes lighting up with a fervor that both worries and saddens me.
“Did you hear about the sighting up near Alpena?” he asks, laying out his maps on the table.
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I reply, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Do you really think there’s something to it?”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But it’s quickly replaced by grim determination. “I have to believe it, Ryan. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
We finish unpacking, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute. I step outside to clear my head, the cool air a welcome relief. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the clearing. I can’t shake the feeling of unease.
"You can take the upstairs room," Dad mutters. His voice is strained, trying to sound normal, but it's clear the weight of the past is heavy on him. I nod, hauling my backpack up the creaking stairs to the small bedroom that I used to share with Leah. The room feels smaller now, or maybe I've just grown too much since those innocent days.
I unpack silently, setting my things aside. The bed is stiff and cold under my touch. As I settle in, I can't help but glance at the corner where Leah and I would huddle together, whispering secrets and making plans for adventures that would never happen. I push the thoughts away, focusing on the practicalities of unpacking.
After settling in, I go back downstairs to find Dad loading up a backpack with supplies for our hunt. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, his hands moving with practiced precision. I know this routine; it's one he's perfected over countless solo trips since that fateful day.
"We'll head out early," he says, not looking up from his task. "Gotta make the most of the daylight."
I nod, though unease curls in my stomach. I'm not just worried about what we might find—or not find—out there. I'm worried about him. Each year, the obsession seems to carve him out a bit more, leaving less of the Dad I knew.
—
The morning air is sharp with the scent of pine and wet earth as Dad and I head into the deeper parts of the forest. The terrain is rugged, familiar in its untamed beauty, but there’s a tension between us that makes the landscape feel alien. Dad moves with a purposeful stride, his eyes scanning the woods around us. Every snap of a twig, every rustle in the underbrush seems to draw his attention. He’s on edge, and it puts me on edge too.
As we walk, my mind drifts back to that day ten years ago. I can almost hear Leah’s voice echoing through the trees, her high-pitched call as she darted ahead, "Catch me, Ryan!" I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Those memories are so vivid, so tangible, it feels like I could just turn a corner and see her there, waiting for us.
Dad suddenly stops and kneels, examining the ground. He points out a set of tracks that are too large for a deer, with an unusual gait pattern. "It’s been here, Ry. I’m telling you, it’s close," he whispers, a mixture of excitement and something darker in his voice. I nod, though I’m not sure what to believe. Part of me wants to dismiss it all as grief-fueled obsession, but another part, the part that heard Leah's scream and saw something monstrous in the woods that day, isn’t so sure.
As we continue, Dad's comments become increasingly cryptic. "You know, they say the dogman moves in cycles, drawn to certain places, certain times. Like it’s tied to the land itself," he muses, more to himself than to me. His fixation on the creature has always been intense, but now it borders on mania.
We set up a makeshift blind near a clearing where Dad insists the creature will pass. Hours drag by with little to see but the occasional bird or distant deer.
The sun rises higher in the sky, casting long, slender shadows through the dense canopy. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, the forest floor hard and unyielding beneath me. My eyes dart between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything, to break the monotony. Dad, on the other hand, remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the treeline as if he can will the dogman into existence by sheer force of will.
A bird chirps nearby, startling me. I sigh and adjust my grip on the rifle. I glance over at Dad.
“Anything?” I ask, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
“Not yet,” he replies, his voice tight. “But it’s out there. I know it.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The forest seems too quiet, too still. Maybe we’re chasing ghosts.
As the sun begins its descent, the forest is bathed in a warm, golden light. The air cools, and a breeze rustles the leaves. I shiver, more from anticipation than the cold. The long hours of sitting and waiting are starting to wear on me.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Dad says finally, his voice heavy with disappointment. “We’ll head back to the cabin, get some rest, and try again tomorrow.”
I stand and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. We pack up our gear in silence and start the trek back to the cabin. The walk is long and quiet, the only sounds are the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night.
—
Dinner is a quiet affair, both of us lost in our thoughts. I try to make small talk, asking Dad about his plans for tomorrow, but it feels forced. We clean up in silence.
After dinner, I retreat to the small bedroom. The fatigue from the day's hike has settled into my bones, but sleep still feels like a distant hope. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the room cloaked in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Downstairs, I hear the faint sound of Dad moving around, likely unable to sleep himself.
I drift into sleep, but it's not restful. My dreams pull me back to that fateful day in the woods. Leah's voice is clear and vibrant, her laughter echoing through the trees. She looks just as she did then—bright-eyed and full of life, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she runs ahead of me.
"Come on, Ry! You can't catch me!" she taunts, her voice playful and teasing.
I chase after her, but the scene shifts abruptly. The sky darkens, the woods around us growing dense and foreboding. Leah's laughter fades, replaced by a chilling silence. I see her ahead, standing still, her back to me.
"Leah?" I call out, my voice trembling. She turns slowly, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Ryan, you have to remember," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It wasn't what you think. You need to know the truth."
Leah’s words hang in the air, cryptic and unsettling. Before I can respond, she turns and starts running again, her figure becoming a blur among the trees. Panic rises in my chest as I sprint after her, my feet pounding against the forest floor.
“Leah, wait!” I shout, desperation lacing my voice. The forest around me seems to close in, the trees towering and twisted, shadows dancing menacingly in the dim light. I push forward, trying to keep her in sight, but she’s too fast, slipping away like a wisp of smoke.
Suddenly, there’s a rustle, a flash of movement in the corner of my vision. Leah screams, a sound that pierces through the heavy silence. It happens too quickly—I can’t see what it is, only a dark blur that snatches her up.
“Leah!” I scream, my voice breaking. I stumble, falling to my knees as the forest spins around me. My heart races, and the terror is so real, so visceral, that it pulls me back to that awful day, the one that changed everything.
I jolt awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I sit up, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead as I try to steady my breathing. The room is still dark, the shadows cast by the moonlight seem to flicker and dance on the walls. My heart is still racing from the nightmare, the echo of Leah's scream lingering in my ears.
As I struggle to calm down, the floorboards outside my room creak. The door opens slowly, and I see the silhouette of my dad in the doorway, a Bowie knife in his hand, his posture tense.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Shh,” he hisses, holding up a hand to silence me. “I heard something. Something moving around in the cabin. Stay quiet.”
I swallow hard, my mouth dry. I glance at the clock on the nightstand—it’s just past three in the morning. The cabin is silent, the kind of deep, oppressive silence that makes every small sound seem louder. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, but Dad’s expression is deadly serious.
He motions for me to get up, and I do, moving as quietly as I can. My heart is racing, a mix of lingering fear from the dream and the sudden, sharp anxiety of the present moment. Dad leads the way, stepping cautiously out of the bedroom and into the hallway, the knife held ready in front of him.
We move through the cabin, checking each room in turn. The living room is empty, the furniture casting long shadows in the dim moonlight. The kitchen is just as we left it, the plates from dinner still drying on the counter. Everything seems normal, untouched.
We finish our sweep of the cabin without finding anything amiss. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by our soft footfalls. I can see the tension in Dad’s frame, his grip on the knife unwavering. After checking the last room, we pause in the dimly lit hallway, the air thick with unspoken questions.
“There’s nothing here,” I say, my voice low. “Are you sure you heard something?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching for something in my face. “I heard growling. Deep and close. It was right outside the window.”
“Maybe it was just an animal outside, a raccoon or something?” I suggest, although the certainty in his voice makes me doubt my own reassurance.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different,” he insists, his voice tense.
I nod, not wanting to argue, but the seeds of worry are planted deep.
The look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s not just fear—it’s desperation. The kind of desperation that comes from years of chasing shadows and finding nothing. I can see the toll this hunt has taken on him, the way it’s worn him down, turned him into a man I barely recognize.
We head back to our rooms. As I lie down, my mind races with thoughts of my dad. I can’t help but wonder if he’s losing it, if the years of grief and guilt have finally pushed him over the edge.
Dad wasn’t always like this. Before Leah’s death, he was the kind of father who took us fishing, helped with homework, and told terrible jokes that made us groan and laugh at the same time. He was solid, dependable. But losing Leah changed him. The guilt twisted him into someone I barely recognize, someone driven by a need for answers, for closure, that may never come.
I try to sleep, but my thoughts keep me awake. I can hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably pacing or double-checking the locks. His paranoia has become a constant presence, and I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if I can help him.
—
The next morning, the sunlight filters weakly through the cabin windows, casting a pale light that does little to lift the heavy mood. I drag myself out of bed, feeling the exhaustion of another restless night. Dad is already up, hunched over his maps at the kitchen table, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
“Morning,” I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep at all?”
He shakes his head, not looking up from his notes. “Not much. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I heard last night.”
I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the remnants of my nightmare. “Maybe it was just an animal, Dad. We’re deep in the woods, after all.”
He finally looks up, his eyes intense. “Ryan, I know what I heard. It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else.”
I sigh, not wanting to argue. “Okay, fine, Dad. What’s the plan for today?”
“We’re going back out. I found some tracks yesterday, and I want to follow them. See where they lead.”
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and resignation. I can see how much this means to him, how desperate he is for any kind of lead. “Alright. Let’s get packed and head out.”
We spend the morning preparing, loading up our gear and double-checking our supplies. Dad is meticulous, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I try to match his focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Leah and the dream I had. Her words echo in my head, cryptic and unsettling: “You need to know the truth.”
We set off into the woods, the air crisp and cool. The forest is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but it all feels distant, like background noise to the tension between us. Dad leads the way, his eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the tracks he found yesterday.
As we walk, I can’t help but notice how erratically he’s acting. He mutters to himself, his eyes darting around as if expecting something to jump out at us. His grip on his rifle is tight, his knuckles white.
“Dad, are you okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine. Just focused.”
He stops frequently to examine the ground or the bark of trees, pointing out marks and signs that seem meaningless to me.
“Look at this,” he says, crouching down to examine a broken branch. “See how it’s snapped? That’s not a deer or a bear. That’s something bigger. Stronger.”
I crouch next to Dad, squinting at the broken branch. To me, it just looks like a regular broken branch, the kind you see all over the forest. "I don't know, Dad. It just looks like a branch to me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dad's eyes flicker with frustration. "You're not looking close enough. It's the way it's snapped—too clean, too deliberate. Something did this."
I nod, not wanting to argue. "Okay, sure. But even if you're right, it could be anything. A storm, another hunter..."
His expression hardens. "I know what I'm looking for. This is different."
I sigh, feeling the weight of the past and the tension between us pressing down on me. "Dad, I had a dream last night. About Leah." The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken emotions.
Dad's eyes widen, and he straightens up, his entire demeanor shifting. "What kind of dream? What did you see?" His voice is urgent, almost desperate.
"It was... strange. We were in the woods, like we are now, but everything felt different. Leah was there, running ahead of me, laughing. Then she stopped and told me I needed to know the truth, that it wasn't what I thought."
Dad grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. "What else did she say? Did she tell you anything specific? Anything about the creature?"
I shake my head, feeling a chill run down my spine. "No, that was it. She just said I needed to know the truth, and then she was gone."
Dad’s grip on my shoulders tightens, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of desperation and hope. “Ryan, you have to try to remember. Think hard. What did the creature look like? Did you see anything else?”
I pull back slightly, uneasy with his intensity. “Dad, I told you. I don’t remember. It was just a dream. A nightmare, really. My mind’s probably just mixing things up.”
He lets go of me and runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and lost. “Dreams can be important. They can hold memories we’ve buried deep. Please, try to remember. This could be a sign, a clue.”
I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried for years to piece together what happened that day. But it’s all just fragments, like pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit. The dream… it felt real, but I don’t think it’s telling me anything new.”
Dad’s face falls, and he looks older than I’ve ever seen him. He turns away, staring into the forest as if it holds all the answers.
—
As we make our way back to the cabin, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the trees. The air grows colder, and I shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Dad is silent, lost in his thoughts, his face drawn and haggard.
Back at the cabin, we unload our gear once again in silence. Dad disappears into his room, muttering something about going over his notes. I decide to explore the cabin, hoping to find something that might help me understand what’s going on with him.
In the attic, I find a box of old family photos and documents. As I sift through the contents, I come across a worn journal with Dad’s handwriting on the cover. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, flipping through the pages.
The journal is filled with notes and sketches, detailing his obsession with the dogman. But there’s something else—entries that talk about Leah, about that day in the woods. His handwriting becomes more erratic, the words harder to read. One entry stands out, dated just a few days after Leah’s death:
“June 15, 2013 – It was supposed to be a normal trip. Keep them close, Frank, I kept telling myself. But I failed. Leah is gone, and it’s my fault. I heard her scream, saw the shadows. I tried to get to her, but… the thing, it was there. Too fast. Too strong. My hands… blood everywhere. No one will believe me. I can’t even believe myself. I have to find it. I have to protect Ryan. I have to make it right. God, what have I done?”
Before I can read further, the attic door creaks open, and Dad’s voice slices through the stillness.
“What are you doing up here?” His tone is sharp, almost panicked.
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with something between anger and fear. I clutch the journal to my chest, my mind racing. “I found this… I was just trying to understand…”
In an instant, he crosses the room and snatches the journal from my hands. His grip is tight, his knuckles white. “You had no right,” he growls, his voice trembling.
“Dad, I just wanted to know the truth!” I shout, frustration boiling over. “What really happened to Leah.”
His eyes flash with a mix of rage and anguish, and before I can react, he slaps me across the face. The force of it knocks me off balance, and I stumble backward, my cheek stinging.
For a moment, there’s a stunned silence. We both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick with tension.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” He trails off, clutching the journal to his chest like a lifeline.
I touch my cheek, feeling the heat from the slap, and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Dad, what aren’t you telling me? What really happened that day?”
“Stay out of it, Ryan,” Dad growls, his eyes dark with anger. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
He turns and storms out of the attic. I’m left standing there, my cheek throbbing, my mind racing. What the fuck is going on? What really happened to Leah? And what is Dad so afraid of?
—
That night, I sleep with my rifle within arm's reach, more afraid of my dad than any dogman. The slap still burns on my cheek, and the look in his eyes—rage, fear, something darker—haunts me. I lie awake, listening to the creaks and groans of the old cabin, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, and I fall into a restless sleep.
The dream returns, vivid and unsettling. I'm back in the woods, chasing after Leah. Her laughter echoes through the trees, a haunting reminder of happier times. This time, though, I push myself harder, refusing to let her slip away.
"Ryan, catch me!" she calls, her voice playful.
"I'm coming, Leah!" I shout, my legs pumping, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
The forest around us is a twisted, shadowy maze, the trees seeming to close in on us. Leah's figure becomes clearer, her blonde hair catching the dim light filtering through the canopy. She stops suddenly, turning to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
"Leah, what is it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Look behind you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
I turn slowly, dread creeping up my spine. In the shadows, I see a figure, its form indistinct and shifting. It’s not quite animal, not quite human—something in between. The sight of it sends a jolt of terror through me, and I wake up with a start, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I’m not in my bed. The ground beneath me is cold and hard, the smell of damp earth filling my nostrils. Panic rises as I realize I’ve sleepwalked into the woods. I scramble to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The moon casts a pale glow over the surroundings, revealing what looks like a long-abandoned animal lair.
The walls are covered in giant claw marks, deep gouges in the wood and earth. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, and a chill runs through me. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Carefully, I start to move, my eyes scanning the ground, desperate for a familiar landmark. That's when I see them—faded scraps of fabric caught on the jagged edges of the underbrush. My steps falter, a sense of dread washing over me as I bend down to examine them. The fabric is torn, weathered by time and the elements, but unmistakably familiar. It's part of Leah's jacket—the bright pink one she wore on the day she disappeared.
As I strain to make sense of it all, a rustling sound behind me snaps my focus. My heart leaps into my throat. I spin around, my hand instinctively reaching for the rifle I don't have—because, of course, I didn't bring it in my unconscious state.
The shadowy figure that emerges from the trees is unsettlingly familiar, mirroring the menacing forms of my nightmares. But as it steps into the moonlight, I recognize the worn jacket, the weary posture. It's Dad.
"Ryan!" he calls out, his voice a mix of relief and stern concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing out here?"
I exhale slowly, the terror ebbing away as reality sets back in. "I—I don't know, Dad. I must've sleepwalked again." My voice is shaky, my earlier dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness.
Dad stares at me in disbelief. "You haven't sleepwalked since you were a kid, Ry. This... this isn't just a coincidence." His eyes dart around, taking in the surroundings—the eerie, claw-marked den, the unsettling quiet of the woods. "How did you even find this place?"
I shake my head, struggling to find an answer. "I don't know, Dad. I just... I woke up here." The uncertainty in my voice does nothing to ease the tension.
His eyes lock onto the tattered remains of Leah's jacket in my hands, and something inside him snaps. The color drains from his face as he stumbles a few steps backward. "This... this is where it happened," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “This is where we found Leah."
“I thought you said you don’t remember anything from that night,” he says accusingly.
"I swear, Dad, I don't know anything about this place," I insist, my own heart pounding.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been hiding this from me.” His voice is frantic. “You... last night, the growling, it was you.” His voice rises, tinged with hysteria.
I step back, my pulse racing, feeling the chill of the night and the weight of his accusation. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking ab—”
"No!" he interrupts, his voice breaking as he points a trembling finger at me. "You knew, you always knew. It was you, Ryan. All these years, the evidence was right there, but I refused to see it. You were the dogman. You killed Leah!"
His words hit me like a physical blow, absurd and horrifying in their implications. "Dad, you're not making any sense. You're talking crazy! I was just a little kid! How could I–" I protest, my voice shaky.
He steps closer, his presence looming over me, the outline of his figure distorted by the shadows of the trees. "Think about it! It all makes sense now. You led us here, to this place, because you remember. Because you did it."
"Dad, stop it!" I shout, my heart pounding in my chest. "You're scaring me. You need help, professional help. This isn't you."
But he's beyond reason, his eyes wild with a haunted grief. "I have to end this," he mutters, more to himself than to me, his hand tightening around his rifle.
His finger hovers dangerously over the trigger of his rifle. My instincts kick in, and I know I have to act fast.
I lunge toward him, trying to knock the weapon away, but he's quicker than I expected. We struggle, our breaths heavy in the cold night air, the sounds of our scuffle the only noise in the otherwise silent woods. His strength surprises me, fueled by his frantic emotions. He shoves me back, and I stumble over a root, my balance lost for a crucial second. That's all he needs. He raises his rifle, his intentions clear in his wild, pained eyes.
I dive to the ground just as the shot rings out, a deafening blast that echoes ominously through the trees. The bullet whizzes past, narrowly missing me, embedding itself in the bark of an old pine. I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, and I start running. The underbrush claws at my clothes and skin, but I push through, driven by a primal urge to survive.
"Dad, stop! It's me, Ryan!" I shout back as I dodge between the trees. Another shot breaks the silence, closer this time, sending splinters of wood flying from a nearby tree trunk. It's surreal, being hunted by my own father, a man tormented by grief and lost in his delusions.
I don't stop to look back. I can hear him crashing through the forest behind me, his heavy breaths and muttered curses carried on the wind. The terrain is rough, and I'm fueled by adrenaline, but exhaustion is setting in. I need a plan.
Ahead, I see a rocky outcrop and make a split-second decision to head for it. It offers a chance to hide, to catch my breath and maybe reason with him if he catches up. As I reach the rocks, I slip behind the largest one, my body pressed tight against the cold, damp surface. I hear his footsteps approaching, slow and cautious now.
As I press against the rock, trying to calm my racing heart, I can hear Dad's footsteps drawing closer, each step crunching ominously on the forest floor. He's methodical, deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey.
“Come out, Ryan!” Dad’s voice is ragged, filled with a blend of fury and pain.
My heart pounds against my chest, the cold sweat on my back making me shiver against the rough surface of the rock. I know I can't just sit here; it's only a matter of time before he finds me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek around the edge of the rock, trying to gauge his position. I see him, rifle raised, scanning the area slowly. This might be my only chance to end this madness without further violence. I need to disarm him, to talk some sense into him if I can.
As quietly as I can, I move out from behind the rock, my steps careful to avoid any twigs or leaves that might betray my position. I'm almost upon him when a branch snaps under my foot—a sound so trivial yet so alarmingly loud in the quiet of the woods.
Dad whirls around, looking completely unhinged. "Ryan!" he exclaims, his rifle swinging in my direction. Panic overtakes me, and I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the gun.
We struggle, the rifle between us, our breaths heavy and erratic. "Dad, please, stop!" I plead, trying to wrestle the gun away. But he's strong, stronger than I expected.
In the chaos, the rifle goes off. The sound is deafening, a sharp echo that seems to reverberate off every tree around us. Pain explodes in my abdomen, sharp and burning, like nothing I've ever felt before. I stagger back, my hands instinctively going to the wound. The warmth of my own blood coats my fingers, stark and terrifying.
Dad drops the rifle, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh my God! What have I done?" he gasps, rushing to my side as I collapse onto the forest floor.
As the pain sears through me, a strange, overpowering energy surges within. It's wild, primal, unlike anything I've ever experienced. Looking down in horror, my hands are no longer hands but large, hairy, clawed appendages. The transformation is rapid, consuming—my vision blurs, senses heighten, and a raw, guttural growl builds in my throat.
In that moment, a flood of understanding washes over me, mingling with the horror of realization. These are the hands of the creature from my nightmares, the creature whose face I can never fully recall because, as I now understand, it is me.
What happens next feels detached, as if I'm no longer in control of my own actions, watching from a distance as my body moves on its own. I turn towards my dad, his face a mask of terror. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with the dawning realization of what his son has become.
The forest around us seems to fall silent, holding its breath as the nightmarish scene unfolds. I can hear my own growls, guttural and deep, filling the air with a sound that's both foreign and intimately familiar. The pain in my abdomen fuels a dark, violent urge, an urge that's too strong to resist.
With a ferocity that feels both alien and intrinsic, I move towards him. My dad, paralyzed by fear and shock, doesn't run. Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to.
The encounter was brutal and swift, a blur of motion and violence. My dad barely puts up a struggle, as though resigned to his fate.
Not that there is anything he can do. The creature that I’ve become is too powerful, too consumed by the wild instincts surging through me. I tear him apart, limb from bloody limb, my hands—no, my claws—rending through fabric and flesh with disgusting ease.
The sound of my dad’s screams, of tearing fabric and flesh is drowned out by the animalistic growls that echo through the trees.
When it’s all over, the red mist that had clouded my vision begins to fade, and the fierce, uncontrollable rage that drove my actions subsides. I'm left standing, my breaths heavy and erratic, in the eerie stillness of the forest. The transformation reverses as quickly as it came on, and I find myself back in my human form. My clothes are ripped to shreds, hanging off my frame in tattered remnants. At my feet lies what’s left of my dad, his body torn and unrecognizable.
I glance down at my abdomen, expecting agony, but instead find my wound miraculously healed. No sign of the gunshot remains, just a faint scar where I expected a bloody mess.
Shock sets in, a numbing disbelief mixed with a gut-wrenching realization of what I've become and what I've done. My hands, now human again, tremble as I look at them, half-expecting to see the claws that had so effortlessly ripped through flesh and bone. But there's only blood, my father's blood against my skin.
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
Eventually, the shock wears thin, and a cold practicality takes hold. I need to get out of here. I need to cover my tracks, to disappear. Because who would believe this? Who would understand that I didn't choose this, that I'm not a monster by choice?
With trembling hands, I do what’s necessary. I bury my dad in a shallow grave, the physical act of digging strangely grounding. I cover him with leaves and branches, a pitiful attempt to hide the brutality of his end. I take a moment, whispering apologies into the wind, knowing full well that nothing I say can change what happened.
I leave the forest behind, my mind a whirl of dark thoughts. As I walk, the first hints of dawn brush against the horizon, the sky bleeding a soft pink. It’s hauntingly beautiful.

This story is about a boy who have a trauma from his past ex-girlfriend. Their relationship did not last long but he always experience abuse from his ex like hitting him for no reason. They always argue because of her, always coming home from work drunk, gaslighting him for everything she's doing. It's a very toxic relationship. At first it's not like this but as soon as she lost interest, everything changed. One time, the boy caught her cheating, having an affair with her co-worker, but he just let it slide because the boy loved her ex-girlfriend so much, that even after what he see, he still love her. Good thing though his ex-girlfriend finally decided to break up with him day after that, and of course, the boy let him go. The boy still love her and it's hard for him to move on.
A few months later, he met this new girl on his work named Kayla. Kayla is a pretty girl with a good personality. The boy laid eye on her, can't take his eyes off her for the whole day. Just as he's about to leave his work, Kayla noticed him and approached the boy. "Hey what's your name?" Kayla asked. "My name is Carl" the boy replied. "Carl, that's a cute name, nice meeting you, my name is Karla by the way" said Karla "It's nice meeting you too Karla" said the boy. As they walk nonchalantly, Karla suddenly asked out of the blue, "So, are you doing fine? I heard that your girlfriend just broke up with you a few months ago" Carl replied, "How did you know?" Then Karla said "Well, me and Hannah were talking about you earlier, she told me that you have been going through a lot lately, so i wonder if I can do anything to help? I don't want to see my co-worker being upset" Carl answered, "Why do you even care? I'm just a nobody, my life means nothing.. I don't feel like i deserve to be loved.." Karla then replied "I know life is hard, and it's not true that your life means nothing, you are borned in this world for a reason. And you deserve to be loved, you're a handsome boy, smart and kind, you deserve to be love, you're not just a nobody, you're somebody." Carl then felt a spark in his heart after what Karla said to him. Carl felt something in his face, "am i crying?" He then covered his face, then Karla noticed, "Hey are you crying? Did i say something wrong? It's okay, you can cry, i'm sorry for making you cry" Carl then answered, "I'm fine, thank you Karla." Carl then hugged Karla.
For weeks Carl and Karla have been going out, talking, vibing and even dating. One night after work, Karla asked Carl, "hey so uhm.. I've been wanting to ask you recently" Carl replied "what is it?" "Will you be my boyfriend?" Karla asked, Carl then felt a hesitate after he heard the question, "Is that a no?" Karla asked "Yes, i can be your boyfriend" said Carl. Then Karla hugged him, "I love you Carl" Carl then replied, "I love you too Carla"
After a few days Carl is being anxious lately, Karla noticed and asked Carl, "Darling are you alright? You don't look good for the past few days, i'm getting worried." Carl then replied, "It's just that.." Karla asked "Just what darling? Please say it, i will listen i promise." Carl answered, "It's just that i'm afraid.." Karla replied, "Don't be afraid darling, i will protect you no matter what. If it's about the trauma you felt from your ex-girlfriend, i promise i won't do anything cruel to you, i love you darling, please don't be afraid." Carl then cried and Karla hugged him.
After a few months, their relationship is going pretty well. Carl and Karla love each other so much, they can't be separated no matter what happens, they're always together through thick and thin. But would their relationship last long?
One day after work, Karla is not feeling good. "Darling maybe you should get some rest, you don't look good. While you rest, how about i prepare some food how's that sound?" Said Carl. "Thank you darling, you're so sweet" Karla replied. Then suddenly while Karla is walking to her room, she fainted. "Darling are you alright?" Carl asked. Karla is not waking up, and Carl is worried. Carl picked her up and rushed to his car to get Karla to the Hospital. Luckily Karla made it. In the hospital, Carl asked the doctor if Karla is alright, the Doctor said, "Mr.Carl, i'm sorry to tell you this but.. She has cancer, Stage 3." Carl then suddenly got a heavy heart, shaking and couldn't even speak properly, the doctor then asked Carl to have some rest. Carl is angry and depressed about what he heard.
A month later... Karla is fighting her cancer, Carl supporting Karla by staying with her 24/7. Karla then whispered to Carl "Till death do us part .." Carl doesn't know that that will be her last word to him.. After a week, Karla didn't make it. She died of Cancer. Carl then felt sadness once again.
A day later after Karla's burial, Carl then rush home, tied a rope on the ceiling and said "Till death do us part" softly... And then he hung his self.
"Till death do us part" was their last word. The end.

I'm not trying to self-diagnose, but I’m hoping to get some opinions and advice.
I'm generally social within my small friend group and have no issues interacting with them. However, I struggle in larger groups; I become silent and can't contribute anything humorous. I will sit there until I am spoken to and only then will I say something minor that won’t add on to the conversation.
What's even more frustrating is that, despite being good-looking, I've lost the interest of several women because I can't even start a conversation with them or even look at them across the room.
These two issues have made my life much less enjoyable. I have ADHD, I don’t know if that had anything to do with it, but the medication doesn't seem to help me socially. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but alcohol is the only thing that helps me a bit, though not always enough.
What I can’t seem to figure out is if I have social anxiety or not. On one hand I am comfortable with 1 or 2 people, but on the other I shut up when there are more people. I feel like it’s contradicting itself. Then again I know nothing about social anxiety.
Any insights or advice would be greatly appreciated.

I am busy with discrete math at the moment and I'm very short of time at the moment. I want to get my work done without wasting too much time, but when I don't understand something I just have to spend ages searching and trying to make sense of things.
Often I can tell it's something simple of I just had someone to explain things to me.
Is there a viva engage group or anywhere to ask for help on assignments?

Hello Agent
There isn’t much time for me to give you this mission so you must listen carefully. There is someone that we need you to befriend to get more information on. Down below is what we know about her so far.

Name: Gillian Gender: Female Age: 25 From: Wisconsin Hobbies: writing, baking, and drawing abstract Music: 80's, classical, 2000's and jazz Favorite color: doesn’t have one. Favorite food: tacos Favorite drink: Regular coca cola 

One random fact about the agent: They have a unique self-published book. Rumor has it that the pages are filled with the emotions the agent normally keeps hidden.
To establish contact with the agent you must provide the details below to her. It is a first step in the right direction of gaining trust.

Name: Age: Where you are from: Tell her something you think is interesting about you: 

We know that she is a night owl by choice based on the report from the last agent. She has a list of health issues but continues to push on even with them. Doing such shows the determination and hard-headedness that she has. Although this has helped her through life it means that it is going to be another obstacle for you, take note of that.
She is anti-drug and anti-alcohol by choice. One thing that is a must if you choose to continue is she is quiet and shy. You might ask how I can get the information quicker, you can’t, it will take time and patience. If you do not have that turn around right now because you will just frustrate yourself while she sits there calm and composed.
You get to ask the agent one free question. Meaning no matter what you will get an honest answer.
Follow these instructions carefully. If you don't there is no guarantee that you will get a response. The agency wishes you the best of luck on what is going to be a tough mission.
Transmission terminated

Do you think this is accurate?
"Me: Is it common for relatives to be manipulative?
ChatGPT: While manipulative behavior is not uncommon in family settings, it is not universal and varies greatly among different families and individuals. Recognizing the signs of manipulation and taking steps to address it can help maintain healthier and more supportive family relationships.
If you have specific concerns or scenarios regarding manipulation in family relationships, feel free to share for more tailored advice.
Me: I'm gonna be a bit more specific
ChatGPT: Of course, please go ahead and provide more specific details or scenarios. The more information you provide, the better I can tailor my advice to your situation.
Me: If a cousin who barely meet or contact you say that family members are supposed to be honest with each other, yet he keep passive aggressively mocking the person and indirectly humiliate/badmouthing the person, and the person has a gut feeling that he is untrustworthy and unreliable, should the person trust his gut instinct?
ChatGPT: Given the described behavior and your gut feeling, it’s reasonable to be cautious and trust your instincts about this cousin. Passive-aggressive behavior and indirect mockery are not signs of a trustworthy or respectful person. Setting boundaries and limiting your interactions can help protect your well-being.
Me: This cousin also keeps comparing the person with others, saying the other cousins are very perfect, outstanding etc
ChatGPT: Your cousin's behavior of comparing you unfavorably to others and passive-aggressively mocking you is manipulative and harmful. Trusting your gut instinct about their untrustworthiness is prudent. Setting boundaries, seeking support, and focusing on your own well-being are essential steps in handling this situation. Remember, you deserve to be treated with respect and dignity, especially by family members.
Me: Now I'm gonna try to quote exactly what he said to you, and you will analyze his words
ChatGPT: Sure, please provide the exact quote from your cousin, and I'll analyze his words for you.
Me: He said in Vietnamese: "Thằng Huy(his son) nó cao to là vì nó ăn uống đầy đủ, ăn nhiều trứng và sữa". Note, that I have issues with my digestive system and is quite skinny
ChatGPT: Your cousin's comment appears to be a subtle way of comparing you to his son, which can be hurtful given your health challenges. It's important to acknowledge your feelings and consider setting boundaries or addressing the issue directly to foster a more supportive and understanding family environment.
Me: That's just one. Then he said "Thằng Đức bây giờ nó là đứa toàn diện nhất nhà, cả về thể chất, trí tuệ lẫn ngoại hình. Nó trước đây cũng mải chơi, xong rồi nó biết cách áp dụng những cái trong trò chơi điện tử vào đời thực và bây giờ nó được như thế". I can see as daylight that he was comparing Đức to me.
ChatGPT: Your cousin's comparison of Đức to you appears to be another instance of undermining your self-esteem and sense of worth within the family. It's important to recognize your own value and address such comparisons assertively to maintain healthy relationships and self-esteem."....
Full conversation can be read here:
https://chatgpt.com/share/b4abd44a-b11b-4f34-b65c-61ec54e5fe25
I think it was quite apparent. I just wanted to ask to be sure.

Firstly,in the past several years,my English is always bad and i have no good ways to memorize so many words for reading an article and exam.So one night,i start to consider:How natives learn English?Why their baby can say various words and read many article? And in the end,i get the reason.(I'm from Taiwan,so i make examples about Chinese,but the method isn't just for Chinese.) Except for their parents often say words to him,they won't memorize many words at first. Yes,they just understand an approximation of a word.They don't recite any word precisely,which can improve their efficiency of reciting words and reading extremely.And with they growing,they can say and write words precisely. So...why not simulate their behaviors? So i try the method,like a baby native,i don't memorize the words precisely. I just memorize the approximation of words. And until now,i have practices the way for half a year,which benefits me a lot. I think it's a good way to learn English for reading.And if u can keep on my methods,like me for half year,u will find that with your again and again memorizing the approximation,u can write words precisely,just like a baby native. I share my method,which maybe help u.😃

I had previously performed a firmware update, and doing so borked Fluid. So I went and did a factory reset on my K1 Max. After rebooting and recalibrating, it said there was another firmware update available. So I downloaded that, re calibrated the printer, re enabled root/ssh, and proceeded to use the helper script to go through and install what I had before. Everything went fine until I got to OctoEverywhere. This is not the first time I've had issues getting it to install. I tried using the helper script as well as downloading the install manually. Tried deleting all files in the OctoEverywhere folder and tried again, no matter what I get some weird message " Could not build wheels for pillow, which is required to install pyproject.toml-based projects"
This is an error I've never seen before.
Below is what I HOPE is the output that may shine some light on what is going wrong. This is a fresh reset machine, up to date firmware, so I don't understand the problem.
​
Running in K1 and K1 Max OS mode
Checking required system packages are installed...
Downloading http://bin.entware.net/mipselsf-k3.4/Packages.gz
Updated list of available packages in /opt/vaopkg-lists/entware
Package python3 (3.11.7-1) installed in root is up to date.
Package python3-pip (23.3.1-1) installed in root is up to date.
WARNING: Running pip as the 'root' user can result in broken permissions and con flicting behaviour with the system package manager. It is recommended to use a v irtual environment instead: https://pip.pypa.io/warnings/venv
System package install complete.
Checking Python Virtual Environment For OctoEverywhere...
No virtual environment found, creating one now.
created virtual environment CPython3.11.7.final.0-32 in 4380ms
creator CPython3Posix(dest=/usdata/octoeverywhere-env, clear=False, no_vcs_i gnore=False, global=True)
seeder FromAppData(download=False, pip=bundle, setuptools=bundle, wheel=bundle , via=copy, app_data_dir=/usdata/.local/share/virtualenv)
added seed packages: pip==24.0, setuptools==69.5.1, wheel==0.43.0
activators BashActivator,CShellActivator,FishActivator,NushellActivator,PowerS hellActivator,PythonActivator
Updating PIP if needed... (this can take a few seconds or so)
Requirement already satisfied: pip in /usdata/octoeverywhere-env/lib/python3.11/site-packages (24.0)
Installing or updating required python libs...
error: subprocess-exited-with-error
​
× Building wheel for pillow (pyproject.toml) did not run successfully.
│ exit code: 1
╰─> [216 lines of output]
running bdist_wheel
running build
running build_py
creating build
creating build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311
creating build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/GifImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_version.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/BmpImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageCms.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PcfFontFile.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageColor.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PaletteFile.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageEnhance.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/features.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/__main__.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_typing.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PcxImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ContainerIO.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/TarIO.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/DcxImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageDraw.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/IcnsImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageTk.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PyAccess.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/__init__.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/GimpGradientFile.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/TiffImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PdfParser.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/FpxImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_binary.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PngImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageGrab.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/MicImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/XbmImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/CurImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageWin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/MspImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PSDraw.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/GdImageFile.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/DdsImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/QoiImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/BufrStubImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/EpsImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/WalImageFile.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/IptcImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/FitsImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageFile.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PsdImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/TgaImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImagePath.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/WmfImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ExifTags.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/McIdasImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/JpegImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/XpmImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageMath.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/FontFile.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/SgiImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/WebPImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_deprecate.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImagePalette.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageFilter.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageFont.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/TiffTags.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/Jpeg2KImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PixarImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/SpiderImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageMorph.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageShow.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/SunImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/GimpPaletteFile.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_tkinter_finder.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImtImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageSequence.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/GribStubImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/MpoImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/FliImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_util.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PdfImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/JpegPresets.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/GbrImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageStat.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/MpegImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/Hdf5StubImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PalmImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageQt.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/report.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageOps.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageChops.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/FtexImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PcdImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageDraw2.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/BlpImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/Image.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageTransform.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/XVThumbImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/PpmImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/ImageMode.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/BdfFontFile.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/IcoImagePlugin.py -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
running egg_info
writing src/pillow.egg-info/PKG-INFO
writing dependency_links to src/pillow.egg-info/dependency_links.txt
writing requirements to src/pillow.egg-info/requires.txt
writing top-level names to src/pillow.egg-info/top_level.txt
reading manifest file 'src/pillow.egg-info/SOURCES.txt'
reading manifest template 'MANIFEST.in'
warning: no files found matching '*.c'
warning: no files found matching '*.h'
warning: no files found matching '*.sh'
warning: no files found matching '*.txt'
warning: no files found matching '.flake8'
warning: no previously-included files found matching '.appveyor.yml'
warning: no previously-included files found matching '.clang-format'
warning: no previously-included files found matching '.coveragerc'
warning: no previously-included files found matching '.editorconfig'
warning: no previously-included files found matching '.readthedocs.yml'
warning: no previously-included files found matching 'codecov.yml'
warning: no previously-included files found matching 'renovate.json'
warning: no previously-included files matching '.git*' found anywhere in distribution
warning: no previously-included files matching '*.so' found anywhere in distribution
no previously-included directories found matching '.ci'
no previously-included directories found matching 'wheels'
adding license file 'LICENSE'
writing manifest file 'src/pillow.egg-info/SOURCES.txt'
copying src/PIL/_imaging.pyi -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_imagingcms.pyi -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_imagingft.pyi -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_imagingmath.pyi -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_imagingmorph.pyi -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/_webp.pyi -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
copying src/PIL/py.typed -> build/lib.linux-mips-cpython-311/PIL
running build_ext
​
​
The headers or library files could not be found for zlib,
a required dependency when compiling Pillow from source.
​
Please see the install instructions at:
https://pillow.readthedocs.io/en/latest/installation.html
​
Traceback (most recent call last):
File "", line 1009, in
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/__init__.py", line 104, in setup
return distutils.core.setup(**attrs)
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/_distutils/core.py", line 184, in setup
return run_commands(dist)
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/_distutils/core.py", line 200, in run_commands
dist.run_commands()
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/_distutils/dist.py", line 969, in run_commands
self.run_command(cmd)
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/dist.py", line 967, in run_command
super().run_command(command)
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/_distutils/dist.py", line 988, in run_command
cmd_obj.run()
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/normal/lib/python3.11/site-packages/wheel/bdist_wheel.py", line 368, in run
self.run_command("build")
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/_distutils/cmd.py", line 316, in run_command
self.distribution.run_command(command)
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/dist.py", line 967, in run_command
super().run_command(command)
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/_distutils/dist.py", line 988, in run_command
cmd_obj.run()
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/_distutils/command/build.py", line 132, in run
self.run_command(cmd_name)
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/_distutils/cmd.py", line 316, in run_command
self.distribution.run_command(command)
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/dist.py", line 967, in run_command
super().run_command(command)
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/_distutils/dist.py", line 988, in run_command
cmd_obj.run()
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/command/build_ext.py", line 91, in run
_build_ext.run(self)
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/_distutils/command/build_ext.py", line 359, in run
self.build_extensions()
File "", line 826, in build_extensions
RequiredDependencyException: zlib
​
During handling of the above exception, another exception occurred:
​
Traceback (most recent call last):
File "/usdata/octoeverywhere-env/lib/python3.11/site-packages/pip/_vendopyproject_hooks/_in_process/_in_process.py", line 353, in
main()
File "/usdata/octoeverywhere-env/lib/python3.11/site-packages/pip/_vendopyproject_hooks/_in_process/_in_process.py", line 335, in main
json_out['return_val'] = hook(**hook_input['kwargs'])
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
File "/usdata/octoeverywhere-env/lib/python3.11/site-packages/pip/_vendopyproject_hooks/_in_process/_in_process.py", line 251, in build_wheel
return _build_backend().build_wheel(wheel_directory, config_settings,
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-install-93ffv0sl/pillow_dcffede559724c7d9c0af468515912d6/_custom_build/backend.py", line 26, in build_wheel
return super().build_wheel(wheel_directory, config_settings, metadata_directory)
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/build_meta.py", line 410, in build_wheel
return self._build_with_temp_dir(
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/build_meta.py", line 395, in _build_with_temp_dir
self.run_setup()
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-install-93ffv0sl/pillow_dcffede559724c7d9c0af468515912d6/_custom_build/backend.py", line 20, in run_setup
return super().run_setup(setup_script)
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
File "/usdata/opt/tmp/pip-build-env-2zqzr5ol/overlay/lib/python3.11/site-packages/setuptools/build_meta.py", line 311, in run_setup
exec(code, locals())
File "", line 1025, in
RequiredDependencyException:
​
The headers or library files could not be found for zlib,
a required dependency when compiling Pillow from source.
​
Please see the install instructions at:
https://pillow.readthedocs.io/en/latest/installation.html
​
​
root@K1Max-AABB /usdata/octoeverywhere [#]
root@K1Max-AABB /usdata/octoeverywhere [#] note: This error originates from a subprocess, and is likely not a problem with pip.
-sh: note:: not found
root@K1Max-AABB /usdata/octoeverywhere [#] ERROR: Failed building wheel for pillow
-sh: ERROR:: not found
root@K1Max-AABB /usdata/octoeverywhere [#] ERROR: Could not build wheels for pillow, which is required to install pyproject.toml-based projects
-sh: ERROR:: not found
root@K1Max-AABB /usdata/octoeverywhere [#] root@K1Max-AABB /usdata/octoeverywhere [#]

This is my first time posting here, and I want to firstly acknowledge what an awesome community you all are and say thank you to Dr K, the HealthyGamerGG team, and all of you for the work and lengths you go to provide help for struggling individuals like me.
I (28M) have a problem. Which is that I resent women and don't trust them. And this post will probably cast me into the incel/redpiller troupe.
I have realised through reflecting on my behaviours that I interpret the actions/behaviours/interactions of women through a redpill lens. A movement I don't want to support and desperately want to believe is untrue. However, I feel that by wanting to rid myself of the redpill, I am just being ignorant to the "reality" of how things work. But believing in the "the redpill reality" makes me so disheartened and hopeless of ever finding a woman who loves me for who I am, who isn't shallow, materialistic, self interested in her wants/desires etc etc etc. <- Beliefs I really don't want to believe about women.
For context, my ex-girlfriend revealed to me that the reason she was attracted to me was because of my career. I am a guidance engineer specialising in hypersonic weapons development. I make well above the average salary and have a stable/exciting career. When she revealed this to me I was immediately offended. I felt she only loved me because of my money and status as she admitted to not finding me interesting of physically attractive when we first met. I honestly don't know if my reaction/judgement of her is wrong. I feel I made strong conclusions about her but I also believe my judgement of her was correct. Am I in the wrong?
There were other instances that she would comment on that really upsetted me. My family isn't rich by any means and this seemed to really trouble her and she would question the "competency" of our family and how she doesn't want to "marry down". She also would be upset if I didn't take her to a lavish restaurant for her birthday as she felt I didn't value her etc.
I don't want to go through life with so much hate and anger towards women. I feel so hopeless and so disappointed about the future by continuing to believe this narrative that I have convinced myself about. That "all women are like this". That women are selfish, self prioritising, lacking in morals/compassion etc. It is so damaging to myself, to the people around me, and to women themselves, and it is not fair or helpful to anyone. I wish I can whole heartedly believe this not true and that I am misguided in every way. But I find it so depressingly hard to believe otherwise. Please help.
And I apologise for the heavy rant/vent and if I have offended anyone. I am just wondering if anyone can resonate with my experience and has overcome this. Thank you.

Hi, I have been reading through my notes, correspondence with my psych and reacquainted myself with this subreddit having made a little bit of progress. I realise how deeply personal and different our work with schema therapy can be. It is a fraught process that is really hard work at times. Having made unexpected progress though, I thought maybe it would be helpful to describe parts of my context, not so much that people find it familiar or relatable, but moreso that people grab the toolset that schema therapy gives you and run with it in your own way.
Background: It's probably been just over fourth months of fairly intensive schema therapy. I am in the fortunate situation of having regular appointments with a clinical psychologist. I would say I had two points where I generated schemas. First one was the same as everyone else: Early childhood. Second one was 17-21 when I became effectively bedridden due to chronic illness.
When I have talked about this second period, I describe it as "Having to rebuild who I was from scratch, entirely based around energy efficiency". I remember staring into the pitch blackness of my bedroom during this time, absolutely flawed that the one part of me that seemed to function right was what Schema Therapy might describe as "Demanding Critic". This would have been 18-19 years ago so I had no idea about schema therapy at all, I just had this constant internal dialogue tearing strips off me for not trying harder, not getting up, not fixing myself. I was completely exhausted otherwise, but this damn thing was as active as ever? What the hell, why was it the last thing standing? It was so different from the rest of me. "If you know how to fix everything, be my guest, I'm in your hands, here's the keys!" I remember thinking. Alarmingly, the internal dialog responded: "Fine, I will". "Good fucking luck" I thought, and passed out for several hours. I didn't realise it, but I had just given Demanding Critic a parental role.
Demanding Critic used a process of elimination to tear apart, kludge, re-engineer and jerry-rig me from someone who slept for 16-18 hours a day out of necessity into someone with a degree, a house, a family, a part-time job. It took a while. It wasn't easy. It's amazing what can happen when you give seething self-hatred the keys to your entire self. Punitive critic used to be a thing, but had it's parts ripped out and reconfigured for completely different purposes. Entire ways to simulate being a conscious, involved person in social situations were constructed. I trained myself to do very complex tasks by muscle memory so I could do them while completely exhausted. The complex effects of depressive episodes could be filtered and rewired to emulate happiness. Fatalistic pessimism was employed towards emulating initiative and drive. Their logics and mechanisms were set to fire off automatically according to the myriad of different contexts I found myself in, so I didn't have to consciously engage in the moment, I could just react according to programming. The "machines" as I called them were fine tuned over years. But it seems that entire parts of myself were deactivated having been deemed too difficult to regulate, or too energy intensive. Demanding Critic was as brutal at he was creative. Entire emotional spectrums were pulverised, or at best used as catalysts for the activation of certain mechanics. They weren't properly experienced, because that used up too much energy, and I couldn't trust myself to make it through the day. Same with speculative, ill-defined senses like 'Hope'. It wasn't worth the effects of disappointment. No one could know how much pain I was in, or how much I was really suffering, or how exhausted I really was. Press on you stupid meat-bag. In your state what good is hope or despair? You'd be a poor judge of either. Press on! Hurry up and succeed. It doesn't matter what has happened to you, what people say or do to you, you can barely feel it above the pain anyway. MOVE. MOVE. MOVE.
This process was refined until a semblance of normativity took place externally, and internally I had acclimated to the new approaches that were by now a pretty seamless, responsive system. Something still wasn't right though, and with investigation came the ASD/ADHD diagnosis, then the CPTSD diagnosis. Once again unto the breech, I pushed myself to understand and recover as best I could. Except doing so meant realising what was happening around me, what interpersonal boundaries were, how I was being treated by my loved ones, everything that had really happened to me for thirty-odd years.
Kaboom.
In the aftermath I'm in a difficult, but stable situation, and undergoing schema therapy. Learning about the modes my therapist asked me to talk about the ones I identified. Demanding Critic spoke directly through the keyboard as an intense character: The Machinist. It became obvious that the system of schema therapy lent itself to treating modes as characters within a narrative, and I have just ran with it. The Machinist, interestingly enough, set down his tools and deactivated many of his machines, because if my Therapist and I found a "Better Solution", he wanted in on it, being fundamentally benevolent, and concerned with a Successful Result. Without Schema Therapy lending itself to narrative and mythos, I doubt I could have so easily deactivated the system of "machinery" required to prop me up. It's led to all kinds of shocking discoveries: The missing (No longer presumed dead) Happy Child that has been carefully hidden away amongst the deactivated components of myself. The fact that I lived entirely in the Past or the Future. The present was deemed "Too energy consumptive". I didn't know whether I had a "Healthy Adult Mode", but weirdly The Machinist could fill that roll sometimes but obviously had his limitations. Then out of the void, deactivated parts of me started to come back online. Something started to assert itself in the Present. It was very interested in emotions. Instead of casting them aside and pushing past them to get on with what i was supposed to be doing, it insisted I experience them, decode them and experiment with them. New experiments in the real-time interaction with people were enacted, with the emotional fallout, good and bad, further experimented with. This present-based-thing has been curiously self-compassionate, and has guided me through the difficulties and risks of fully engaging in real time with my emotional spectrum when relating with others, my work, and my life. All for the sake of her experiments. She is The Scientist. She is getting all kinds of results and recording all kinds of functions I had no idea I was capable of. The Machinist is head over heels in love with her, having watched her working over the least two weeks. She's kinda started flirting with him, allowing a desire for perfection to be felt over some work I was doing. "Show me what you can do". I consciously disparaged the desire for perfection, looked down and my consciousness was shocked to discover The Machinist had taken over my motor skills and indeed had made something perfectly, and was having fun. It seems I have two self re-parents.
Now, it's bonkers to read, I'm sure. I apologise. But it's working. It really is fucking working. Take what you can from schema therapy and run with it. Make it yours, whatever that means for you. It's gonna be weird. It's gonna be wild. I reckon the easiest way to engage with it has to be it's propensity for character and narrative, but maybe the path of least resistance for you is some other aspect of it I can't detect.

I want to be hopeful and optimistic but the vast number of online disappointments make it difficult. Here are some things I don't want. Please don't contact me if you are not interested in reading the post. or do not want to talk long term and would be planning on ghosting me or disappearing within 1-2 days.
I am someone who is quite a sweet and effortful person. I would love an online connection with someone similar to me and have good, intellectual conversations and also share some laughter and affection. Affection can light us up and make us happy. (Even platonic connection is fine.) I like giving and receiving affection in the form of cute, little nicknames for each other, checking up on each other, asking about each other.
Of late, I have been watching a lot of couple pranks on YouTube. They teach me a lot about couple dynamics (what kind of dynamics are healthy and what are toxic). It would be nice to have someone to discuss these kinds of dynamics with. Sometimes I like those pranks where one pretends to be angry and the other kind of comforts them. It would be nice if we could enact that sometime.
I hope my words sail to some worthwhile eyes on the winds of destiny.
I have grown wary of superficial connections, no effort replies and even abrupt ghosts.
I would like someone with whom I can exchange sweet words with. I am quite a romantic person and I was more so as earlier. A lot of responsibilities were thrust upon me with time, but I have rediscovered that side of myself. I would love to have a pretend romance with an online companion - where we pretend like we are long lost soul mates and trade fiery words of sweet passion for each other.
But, that is completely optional. I am fine with a wholesome, platonic connection as well.
If you've reached this far, it's because of some happy confluence of my words, the Reddit algorithm and fickle fortune.
Our meeting seemed to dangle so much on fate, it's only fair we pay our dues. Give it our best shot. Do justice to the matchmakers of heaven - The directors of this romance.
I'm on the quest for a sweet companion. Someone with a good heart. Kind and empathetic - Like my own. The good person at the end of the romcom when the attractive antagonists lose their allure.
I love bonding with someone through heart to heart conversation. Through exchanging genuine care and concern. Through passionate exchange of our interests and hobbies. Through clockwork logging of our daily lives. Through mindful curiosity in each other's interests. Through mutual preference for glitter over gold, depth over deception, charm over carelessness and symphonies over superficiality.
The conversation starts out with pleasantaries and outward introduction of our demographic information - the most rudimentary. The most formal. Gradually, the outer layers crack and a mild joke cuts across the mask and we're another layer deep. Common or different tastes in art are the usual social custom for making new acquaintances.
Soon, our conversation flows like a roaring river eliciting deep intellectual and emotional responses from both of us.
We're discussing prized memories and cherished fantasies of the future. Chalking out hypotheticals and admiring the other's world views. Pretty soon, we're suddenly bare and feeling a strong bond by virtue of what we've shared.
Small silences punctuated the conversation. These silences were not awkward. It was a comforting waterfall of connection. It was the silence that followed from both of us knowing and enjoying the bond created by our hearts.
I loved the feeling of ending a conversation with a stranger on the first day with the feeling you've known them for years. I harboured romantic beliefs that such a connection must be the byproduct of a relationship in a previous life !
Here are a few things about me -

• I love staying at home.
• I do not drink or smoke and don't like going to noisy pubs. Although there are times when friends or office parties are conducted there, it's something I just tolerate.
• I love reading. I am interested in programming, Mathematics, Chess, Science, Psychology, Geopolitics, Space, Literature (fantasy particularly or late but I like all kinds) and Self Help (Productivity and Positive Psychology) - and a lot more ! I'm generally intellectually curious and a lifelong learner.
• I love following updates on things I'm passionate about and sharing them regularly. I love following podcasts and blogs and videos on them and sharing and discussing them. I also love explaining a new thing I have learnt as it helps me understand it better.
• I tend to be positive and look at the brighter side of life usually. But I also like sharing the problems I am going through and like listening to your's.
• I love animals. I have a lot of pets. I am also quite close to my family and am surrounded by my loving pets (5 dogs and 4 cats). I recovered from dengue last month and they were always around me all the time. It felt very good.
• I love putting in effort into messages and writing effortful messages and generally use complete words and not much abbreviations. I love crafting a symphony of text.
• I am usually quite calm and supportive and remember things that are told to me in conversation. I like getting emotional and expressive and am soft hearted and sensitive. I am also quite mature and enjoy talking to similarly mature people.

Do not reach out to me if you're just bored, did not read the post, don't like anything about me or my profile or don't know what you want or don't want to invest in having a good connection or don't even have the intention for talking for a few weeks. I am already quite hurt at repeated ghosting so please do not even reach out to me if you intend to ghost by tomorrow or next week.
Here's what I would like from us

• Genuine interest, care and empathy for each other - Making each other a priority though we are strangers at first. That's part of the excitement in jumping head first into this ! That does not mean we do not respect each other's busy schedules or commitments. I'm looking for something really genuine.
• Regular effortful messages, and remembering things the other says
• I love sharing or explaining anything new I learn, whether it is a blog post, podcast, video, book or a general thought that came through my mind. It would be great if you love listening to good explanations and are interested in such things. I'd also love it if you too like sharing blogs or podcasts on topics that you are interested in but it's not necessary.
• I also love self improvement and sharing progress or motivation as we are doing things towards our goals and dreams.
• I love voice calls as I love the sound of voice. I would love it if you are someone who is excited at having regular voice calls (2-3 times a week) or at least exchanging voice messages at times !
• We don't need to have similar taste in art (music, TV shows, movies). I am open to learning about new kinds of interests and new subcultures !
• Openly sharing our thoughts on the bigger ideas and arcs of life and also venting about the smaller frustrations
• Being excited at receiving messages from the other person every time we light each other's phones up.
• [Optional] Some online romance where we sometimes say things to each other that make us blush like our first crush. A little romance to brighten each other up. Though this is completely optional. Sometimes sharing sweet, romantic messages with each other and maybe even doing this on voice calls too.

Also would be nice if we can just share photos so we can visualise what we look like as I like sharing photos when I go somewhere. I just like getting this out of the way. It doesn't matter to me what you look like, but I do like to know whom I'm talking to make us blush like our first crush. A little romance to brighten each other up. Though this is completely optional. Sometimes sharing sweet, romantic messages with each other and maybe even doing this on voice calls too.
Also would be nice if we can just share photos so we can visualise what we look like as I like sharing photos when I go somewhere. I just like getting this out of the way. It doesn't matter to me what you look like, but I do like to know whom I'm talking to.

In 2016, medium Thomas John was sued for failing to pay $3,000 to a PR agency he hired to help build his public profile as a psychic. Court documents stated the agency "completed all the services of helping him build and exaggerate in the press his public profile."
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3507810/Never-saw-coming-Psychic-ran-Craigslist-scam-sued-PR-firm-tasked-improving-image.html

My baby's first few weeks have been difficult in terms of breastfeeding. He was immediately put on formula supplementation which I seriously regret due to overzealous nurses and bad advice. My self-esteem around breastfeeding, something I've always intended to do without question, was rocked. I have pretty sensitive nipples which blistered quickly after the introduction of a nipple shield. Meanwhile, he's a smaller guy (6 lb/1.8 kg) and at 14 days, he still hasn't really figured out how to open his mouth wide enough to latch.
We've tried multiple positions, the sandwich, we're off the shields thank goodness (I think they really taught him to go narrow), and have seen a lactation consultant. I've watched a million YouTube videos. We have a freezer full of donor milk.
The current situation is that I'm about 200mL shy of his daily consumption and am attempting to feed directly, usually failing, and then pumping while bottle feeding from the last pump mixed with donor supply. My nipples are SORE. My husband and mom who are here supporting me are at their wits end and I am crashing, developing an aversion not only to breastfeeding but to my son which scares the shit out of me. I don't want that. And I don't know what to do.
Last night for the first time ever he really truly latched. It felt different. He did it on both sides. He got a ton of milk really fast, it didn't hurt, I even felt some good hormones. But now the last 3 feeds have been back to our normal hell.
It's Sunday and tomorrow is a holiday so the lactation consultant won't come for several days. What do I do to get through these next few days? Do I pump and bottle feed, keep trying at the expense of my nipples and mental health, what? And is there any way to at least focus on increasing supply over these days, which somehow feels like a less frustrating goal than getting that golden latch I experienced last night? Please help, I'm postpartum and really struggling.

Dropper, studied like hell, full day with no distractions
Still couldn't clear any entrance. I knew I was not jee smart so I was targeting mhtcet/comedk/ugee
Comedk got 59 Mhtcet I am not expecting anything Ugee cutoff clear nahi hua with a big margin Viteee 70k rank
I might get into symbiosis institute of technology but ab yeh sab results ke badh uska bhi confidence nahi bacha hai. Suppose I get into SIT cse
Should I take it and do engineering? I had done one career counseling in 10th it had showed I was good in buisness administration, data science, education and teaching sectors
I was good in maths but commerce dominated maths not science wala maths iyk. My mom and dad told me engineering karle fir MBA karke field shift kar Lena.
Like bro jab field shift hi ksrni hai toh btech kyu karo?????
Will I be able to be good at cse even tho I am so bad at pcm??? I don't wanna waste 24lakhs of my parents just to do some degree which I am not even good at and God forbid what if I am not able to complete it???
Please help kardo

I'm trying to get past this NG to start a new one, but am constantly getting smoked by powers I don't have (evidently). I'm using either my Big Bang at 800-1000+ dmg or my very modded Hard Target getting just under 700 dmg. Voud Form helps for a second, maybe 2, before I'm taking hits again. Parallel Self doesn't help even slightly. In fact, none of my powers seem to have any effect... AND neither does game settings.
Any suggestions? I'm currently at the end of NG+3.