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.

Why exactly is it such a terrible mess now? I mean when you look at all the problems in society and all of the negative things going on, etc. etc. Theres all of these things like the "friend zone" and "nice guy" and "bad boy" Blah blah blah and all that nonsense. Yet there are bars set in place that are holding us all back with all these so called things going on. For example. Say you really had the hots for a woman, and you'd love to tell her that if you had consent you would love to pound her hard in the nearest love hotel. Yet of course there are also many factors such as preferences, personality, what you have in common, hobbies, etc. What confuses me the most is how sometimes kindness is mistaken for weakness. Or being a good and decent person and instantly becoming positively obsessed with a love interest in a good way is misunderstood or shot down by rejection? There are very many factors in play here. What perplexes me is why things are in such a chaotic state in the first place. Shouldn't a man and a woman just love eachother because they truly like eachothers personality, looks, etc.? Why all the games? What the hell are we doing as a species or even a culture?
Everyone has their preferences, hobbies, career, ambitions, etc. Why is everything so divided these days?
Why can't we all just find love easily by being ourselves instead of being put into this stupid game of "what ifs" "friend zone" or any of the other balderdash and nonsense?
If you love someone for who they truly are, then the answer should be you would be willing to love them forever, even beyond death. Yet, society has deliberately divided the family unit and has also parasitically infected and divided people. We must all wake up and realize that True, Pure, Genuine love is indeed the way.
Why then, is dating in the modern era so difficult when in the ancient era people would just be with one another because they genuinely liked one another? I feel things these days are very out of touch and I'm just trying to provide a positive point of view on this subject. Everyone has their preferences, likes, dislikes, hobbies, skills, interests, etc. Why then does society insist on this stupid "game of love" or "love is a battlefield" When everything should be plain as day to be your genuine self? I feel there is a major disconnect in society and humanity in this era because many people have forgotten their history and as consequence repeated it. I do believe it is our responsibility to create a new era in which love is found more easily with those who would truly appreciate you.
For example. say there was a man who had endured psychological, emotional, and all kinds of other misfortune all his life. Yet, there was a woman out there who would sympathize with him and have compassion because either she too had been through the same thing or in many other potential ways was just looking for someone who she could relate to or understand? (as well as on intimate levels)"
I think that many of the things going on today in this modern era have inhibited progress and made things increasingly more difficult. We don't need lies, corruption, greed, or any of that nonsense.
What we need is peace, love, progress, genuinely taking care of the environment in the correct and ethical way. Not some electric vehicle that creates more waste and emissions to produce than just a vehicle that modestly runs on gasoline. I'm sure I may get hate for what I stated there but I don't care, this is an in depth discussion.
What indeed happened previously in history? Where did people lose touch? Where was the disconnect? What ever happened to two people genuinely loving one another for who they are rather than what "society" told them to do? Brianwashing needs to be made illegal to prevent further damage. I say this from the perspective that there is far too much heartbreak and sadness in the world. Love and happiness is the answer to that.
What do you all think? Please do share how you truly feel, as this is meant to shed light on what we must change in order to have a bright future.

hi lols my name is kori but my full name is but my entire family calls me kori leona which is my middle name but my last name is Bowling I live in texas in a town called waxahachie at 60 anna leigh drive with my dad Matthew and mom Terri and my sisters kenzie, kaci, and kylee and my cousins caleb and cassidy and i just can't do this anymore its all i want but ill get nowhere with it, and all i really want to do is die. im tired of everything. I poured lighter fluid into a blended drink I made for my family and poured gasoline over my enitre house, i dont know if they are dead or if theyre just unconcious but it wont matter anyways i guess im tired of my friends, family, the only thing I'm good at (which is art), i just can't do it anymore. i can't keep living like this in this misery. there's no point in trying anymore so i took my dads gun its a rifle and it was already loaded and after this post im going to kill my entire family and pour the rest of the gasoline over myself and light myself on fire both of my parents are selfish assholes. they both lied to me. they always lie and the only time they are truthful is in insult to me. my dad tells me everyday that im lazy and makes me feel like a disappointment (although i am and it gives me more reason to kill myself) while my mom is nicer except shes immature and is always yelling and ruining all her chances of a peaceful life over text and email, threatening my dad and just constantly being an immature asshole. all parents and teachers and whatever in this world are cheap immature liars, and ive never met a single one who hasn't been. i hate my dad for having me, heck, I resent him. he shouldnt have ever had children, he shouldn't have ever brought me into this world if he just wants to make my life harder than it already is. but hey, atleast it gives me more reason to hurt myself and die. i know I'd die alone anyway, so it doesn't matter who i keep in my life. im so, so tired, and sometimes i don't even have a reason for it. sometimes im just so sad and depressed all i can do is rot. all i can do is get worse and worse until i eventually follow through and kill myself, but thatll have to wait for awhile. though, no matter how much i blame the world and people for my suffering, i hate myself more than i hate anything else. i hate myself for walking on this earth, i hate myself for my incapability, i hate myself for my existence, i hate myself for ruining the people's lives around me because ive always felt that the world would get better when i leave. i hate myself so much and i feel i deserve death. all ill ever deserve is to die as painfully and excruciatingly as possible in punishment for my existence, no matter how much i want a peaceful and content death.

The cases of Natália and Isadora

Natália Sampaio had a troubling raising, her parents were never married, and her family struggled financially. She initially lived with her grandmother from her mother side. But after reaching thirteen she went to live with her two brothers, who were farmworkers. When she was fifteen years old, she dropped from school. A move that both her brothers and her grandmother disapproved. She then started basically to spend more time out of home in Cumuruxatiba, which is a neighborhood in the small beachside municipality of Prado - Bahia, Brazil.
She then started to get involved with drugs and sadly, to sustain her addiction, relied in prostitution, a move that her family didn't know about. At the age of 16 she became acquaintance with Isabel Fernandes, who was 15 years old at that time. Isabel was also addicted and misguided by Sampaio, they started to do small thefts and also prostituted herself.
In April, 2021, Sampaio wanted to change her life and come clean, so she told her grandmother that she wanted to go back to school, also telling her, her wrongdoings. Her grandmother did something that she regrets until this very day, she didn't trust in her and told her granddaughter to seek her mother or her brothers for housing and support.
Late in April, both Fernandes and Sampaio went missing. They went to a Luau that oftens take place in the town, on the beaches. Some days later, Sampaio's remains were found on a river, strangled with a rope tied to a heavy stone. Fernandes remains and whereabouts are still unknown until this day, she is presumably deceased.

The cases of Erika and the Prado's Jane Doe

In June, 2021. Another female body was found in Jucuruçu River, the initial investigation believed it would be Fernandes remains, but after the autopsy, the woman could not be identified, it was in an advanced stage of decay, and from bones and teeth, they could only identify that the woman was in her early 30s, late 20s.
The woman was body's was found strangled in the neck with a rope, the rope was tied to a heavy stone. The woman identity's remains a unsolved mystery until this very day.
Erika Batista lived in Teixeira de Freitas a satellite town in the southern region of Bahia, she was eighteen years old, a Baptist and a student, in her High School sophomore year. In August, 2021. Batista asked her mother if she could go to a camping trip with a group of friends from her Church. Her mother, Leidiane Batista, initially declined, but moved by her daughter's plea, let her go. "Don't drink alcohol, don't have sex, don't go to parties", she told her daughter.
Her boyfriend at that time, Jhonatas Rocha, and an unnamed minor close friend also went with her. August 21th, they went to a boat trip in Jucuruçu River and then in the night they went to the beach and started a firecamp along with their group of friends. Walking at night on the beaches of Prado is something really common that both tourists and citizens regularly do. So the group often split, so duos or trios could roam through the beautiful scenario, featuring a full moon.
This would be the last time they would see Batista alive, as she and a her close friend went roaming through the beach. That friend of her was smitten by Batista and they both had a fling, but Batista was dismayed of betraying her boyfriend, so she and her friend had a little misunderstading. Batista was furious and told her that she wanted to go alone, a mistake that probably cost her life.
Three hours later, her boyfriend realized that her friend returned, but Batista didn't, so he went to look after her, only to find her 3 miles away, in the river's mouth, naked, strangled with a rope and the rope was tied to a stone. He could barely see someone fleeing the scene and he ran back to the group after, unsuccessfully trying to revive Batista.
The investigation never led to a suspect. All the cases remain unsolved.

My final thoughts

Three women killed in the same way, one missing. In the region of Teixeira de Freitas (which encompasses Prado), there is also an unsettling number of women disappearances (three in 2021, four in 2022, and five last year), and if their remains are ever found, they are always sexually assaulted, strangled to death. Then their bodies are tied to a rope and the rope is tied to heavy stone.
If by coincidence there is a copycat, which I don't think it is, I believe that there is a serial killer in the region and I have been documenting these cases and there are many similarities between the cases. I'll link some material, but they are in Brazilian Portuguese, just for reference.
Polícia investiga se jovem estrangulada e morta em praia do Prado foi estuprada
Morte misteriosa de adolescente comove e mobiliza vilarejo no sul da Bahia...
Adolescente que estava sumida desde domingo é encontrada morta com pedra amarrada em pescoço e perfurações no corpo
Prado: Pescador encontra um corpo no Rio Jucuruçu que pode ser da adolescente que estava desaparecida
Continua desaparecida na cidade de Prado, Cristina de Jesus Lima, 22 anos
Mãe procura filha de 14 anos desaparecida há 3 dias em Teixeira

Man…while I totally understand that they pretty much had to axe Mike, in today’s culture, plenty of people would’ve put their feet to the fire until they let him go anyways, but it really sucks, ever since he left it’s painfully obvious Bimmy has ZERO chemistry with the screenwave people, and he never had it to begin with.
The podcast was the most blatant example, but every time they did one of those rental reviews, the pitiful excuse of monster madness with sponsors all over and a random Screenwave co-host, 90% of Bimmy’s input was “uh-uh” “yeah” “umm, yeah” or some such other non-comments.
I just watched the Batman ‘66 blu ray review with him and Mike, and they can honestly sit and discuss even the most mundane shit for quite a while even without a script and it flows just fine, they’ve always had very similar interests, and even talk over each other with the exact same thought a few times in videos like this.
It’s also painfully obvious nowadays that Mike was the real AVGN the whole time, not that that’s anything new as Mike has pretty much told everyone as much. As stupid as his humor could be sometimes, he made early AVGN great.
It’s honestly sad watching modern AVGN because Bimmy is very clearly sick to death of this character and would much rather do Rex viper shit or talk about movies/music far more than video games.
There have been HINTS of good content over the years, but I can’t stand watching anything with Bimmy and another co-host unless it’s heavily scripted. All he does is struggle to come up with a single contribution to the conversation and seems rushed/disinterested.
I think the saddest part about all this, is that Bimmy and Mike could legitimately sit and talk for 20 minutes and get 155K views per video. The monster madness videos from the late 2000s with 3-4 minutes of footage and commentary did super well, he put in significantly LESS effort in the past and got equivalent views to the sponsored garbage they’re putting out now. Maybe he would have an ounce of fucking time if they simplified things. He never needed Screenwave to come in and “modernize” things, unless the finances were even more ruinous from the movie than we realize.

We all know what kind of person the fresh, self-proclaimed “Half-baked” magician Aoko Aozaki is; someone that is pretty carefree, enjoys her life to the fullest, a rootless wanderer, a jerk with a heart of gold, and is a person that never runs away, never back down from almost anything, such as getting involved in the moonlit world and throwing her original life away, as well as the fact that she will not hesitate to do something even if it means making the entire world her enemy when she revived Soujuurou using the fifth magic.
But have we ever thought about why she’s like this present day of the setting? Many people would probably just say that “That’s just her character” and leave it at that, but perhaps it’s for a reason that if you dug a bit more deeper, is actually pretty sad if you think about it.
Touko mentioned to Aoko that what she had done would potentially result in the heat death of the universe all for “reviving” Soujuurou by moving his death to a time in the future without really thinking about the consequences, however she stated that she will take responsibility when that time comes.
Leaving her semi-immortality aside, what if possibly that her personality being like this is because she knows her future isn’t gonna be good despite currently holding the title “Fifth Magician”, and that she is trying to live her life to the fullest and not leave behind any regrets when her time finally comes?
Fate really is a cruel mistress isn’t she?
Probably because of this she has a very different view on life, she respects how every individuals live their life, but will get displeased at seeing life being wasted in front of her eyes, as how Shiki demonstrating his eyes to her and she got angry at him just casually taking a life by destroying that tree, because it goes against her current principle.
If you still don’t get what I’m saying, it’s like “I have only a year left, therefore I’m going to make it count before my time comes”. It’s like that.
That honestly makes her story pretty sad if that’s the reason of her character in the present day setting of Nasuverse.
What do you think? I mean Nasuverse is a setting that is filled with pain, sorrow and suffering, so I wouldn’t be too surprised if I was right in some way.

I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.

I know this is kinda messed up and all, but they always talk about how they want the world to be rid of all kaiju. No matter how you look at it, 8 is still technically a kaiju. I don’t think they’d ever kill him on their own, but I can totally see Kafka dying at the end, like if he just trades to kill 9, and then Mina wakes up and sees and they have one of those long, heartwarming, heartbreaking death scenes. Plus, number one little fan girl gonna be bawling her eyes out. Don’t get me wrong, if they do that, imma be like so mad and soooooo sad, but, for some reason, I can kinda actually see it happening. Anyone else, or just only me?

I believe that if a bacteria or plankton or anything capable of reproduction or autonomy exists but doesn't do anything, it might as well be as dead as the materials surrounding it. If a piece of paper with the cure to cancer is in an indestructible unopenable box it might as well not exist.
I also believe that if a God exists but does nothing, they effectively don't exist.
All bacteria (and for the most part all organisms) that 'live,' exist to reproduce, and nobody is sure why but I'd say it is the most basic form of fear.
On the smallest possible level of 'living' bacteria seek to exist for longer, even if only through genetic existence, driven by the 'fear' of no longer existing, humans for the most part are the exact same, yes there are those who don't fear death, but they fear something else, be it fearing for others, or fearing for an artwork or whatever.
Therefore at the highest possible level, a God. Must. Fear.
If a God or God's that exists can affect this world but don't, they don't fear anything, and therefore have no motivation to do anything and might as well not exis, at some point. I don't know if a God can be curious or angry or happy or sad. But I do know one thing, a God of any kind if it has any tangible effect on the world must fear something.
What do you guys think?

I am so insanely ungrateful...
... for you planting in me those thoughts of not being worthy of presenting myself to others, of taking myself seriously, of recognizing my needs as important. So important that the impulse would arise in me to act for myself, to take care of myself. To see myself as a valuable person, at least as valuable as everyone else.
My ingratitude also for you not making it obvious to me to take care of myself. That I don't take myself seriously. Because what others feel was always more important.
... and for smiling for others instead of myself. Why did I have to make sure everyone was okay?
Why was I not allowed to disappoint anyone? Why did you make me believe I was responsible for others' disappointments?
Why was I not allowed to have "negative" feelings? Why were those feelings equated with ingratitude (since one should always be happy for what one has, always keep in mind that others have it much worse!) "Eat your greens, especially broccoli. Always remember to say thank you (especially for the things you haven't had)!"
... That I don't take myself seriously or endlessly question myself when I feel bad. Am I even allowed to be sad about the things that were done to me? For the things that were dismissed, or withheld from me? Am I allowed to get help when I'm not feeling well?
That you didn't recognize or didn't want to see (so you wouldn't be blamed) how much my environment stressed me, despite signs like biting my nails, withdrawal, gaining weight etc. Why didn't you move away with me from that place, as you had considered...
... for never discussing feelings, my feelings, my condition, or our relationship. And conflict/argument was always avoided like the plague. The difficulties of talking about feelings and interpersonal relationships with others run like a thread through my life. What was so difficult about talking to me about emotions?
Then I often have to ask myself: Were my feelings even justified? Or just manifestations of my (of course undesirable!) (hyper)sensitivity? Was I only sad because I took everything too seriously? Because I wasn't grateful enough for this normalcy? Grateful for not having it much worse?
That it turned into me not being able to confide in anyone, because I'm actually ashamed of feeling like a victim of your treatment, or feeling anything at all. Of needing something. Useless things, like closeness and security. Help, sometimes.
That I only felt understood in music, felt held, not alone with my feelings. That sometimes I can even express myself better in English about myself and my feelings because of it.
Why did you leave me alone so often? At the inn? In my room? With my toys? While you got drunk? You praised me for my independence, for making myself so small and inconspicuous and keeping myself busy. Yes, I confirm that boredom also breeds creativity. Guess I should be thankful for that, too.
That I now feel constantly lonely, inwardly longing. Always searching for love from people who cannot give it to me. I searched for deep emotional connections, even as a child, and if I hadn't had Grandma, I would be completely lost today. Not just emotionally. So as not to be run over, one must keep up... be overlooked, step back. Why didn't we cuddle? Why was there so little physical closeness? Why did you never say you love me? It felt so weird and wrong to say it to someone else later in life even though I felt it...
My heartfelt ingratitude also for constantly telling me that self-praise is vain. That one should not be too proud of oneself, not think too highly of oneself, not be too convinced of oneself, but rather be modest. “Too much praise is bad for children, then they think they are something special, something better.”
Now I don't really know anymore when I'm allowed to be happy about myself. When I'm allowed to be proud of myself. After all, I am special, and in some ways even better than others; as everyone can do something special or better than others.
My many talents, which I could be proud of... why do I always feel unworthy and inferior? Why are my paintings, my songs, ... never finished? I always feel I have to apologize for alleged mistakes in my art.
//
But the poet says defiantly: My whole art is one single mistake, born out of wounds. That you inflicted on me. It lives to defy you! To disturb you! To show itself to you! Why should I hide all the wounds I have survived, despite your treatment? They are not my weaknesses! They are not my fault! They are nothing I should be ashamed of. Instead: they are your hindrance to my perfect being. Your fault. Your shame. Your responsibility.
My songs will ring in your ears and echo and tell you what you don't want to hear! Because it reminds you of your own vulnerability, which you deny, which you hide from. My paintings as your mirrors. My words as your death sentence!
I am angry for you, little inner children, for being treated like that and for being asked to put your feelings and needs aside like that. For not even being allowed to be sad about it. I see you and now I'm sad for you. You deserve to be heard, to be comforted, to be freed from the garbage that was served to you. For this garbage, we can all be truly ungrateful from the bottom of our hearts!
I shouldn't be ashamed anymore for all the things that developed in me, because you are superficial, neglectful, insensitive, intrusive, spiteful people. I now know that you should be ashamed, not me.

I just watched "I Saw the TV Glow," and it's one of the weirdest and trippiest movie I've seen in a while. It's what you'd get if you took Beau is Afraid and bathed it in LED lights and 90s kid nostalgia. The visuals and atmosphere are hypnotic but I want to focus on the puzzling themes and messages and my personal interpretation. Beware, there will be spoilers.
In the film, Owen and Maddy become obsessed with the fictional TV show "The Pink Opaque." The characters repeatedly indicate that The Pink Opaque feels more real to them than their everyday lives. When asked if he likes boys or girls, teenage Owen says he thinks he actually likes TV shows. The film is touching on the feeling that there is something more invigorating about the heightened reality in scripted dramas than the mundanity of our everyday lives. It is like people substituting p*rn for sex, or watching travel vlogs from the comfort of their beds.
Owen gradually becomes more pathetic and lifeless as the film progresses. After skipping eight years, the film transitions to Maddy revealing to Owen in a spellbinding monologue that The Pink Opaque is the true reality and everything else is an illusion. At this point, Owen is working a dead-end job in a movie theater, barely able to make eye contact with anyone, living in a bleak home with his father. The only source of vibrancy in his life comes from the suffused glow of his childhood TV show. Maddy is offering him a lifeline, with The Pink Opaque representing the opportunity to hold on to his childhood and the radiance of his childhood experiences. But Owen rejects the lifeline in favor of returning to his mature and dull adult life. As he abandons Maddy, the words "THERE IS STILL TIME" are etched out on the road, but Owen walks past them, abandoning his youth forever.
When Owen watches the show later, he finds it cheesy. The magic he found in life had vanished. As he becomes older, it becomes more difficult for him to breathe. The people around him smile and cheer, but at their core he sees them as lifeless and dead, which we see when Owen freaks out at the birthday party and nobody reacts. Owen aches to be in the TV show of youth, even if it means tearing apart his chest and choking to death in a hole in the ground, rather than continuing his mind-numbing adult routine of filling ball pits at an arcade center. But it's too late. The movie ends on a sad whimper, with the character in a final pathetic state of mumbling apologies to people who don't care and are barely even real. It's unsatisfying, but it suits the film's narrative themes.
After I watched the film, I learned that the director had the trans experience in mind when creating the film. This post is not to detract from that original interpretation, but to offer an alternative perspective that I had while watching the film.

please message me with more than "hi, how are you?" + do not chat message me, send me a DM! it's so much easier for me since i use the app on my phone.
just your local girlfriend stealing, alternative, bisexual here. 👋 but you know what? let's set that aside for now (your girlfriend is safe for the moment) because i'm looking for friends that are as good to me as i am to others, which is a*pparently *harder than it should be. i am a genuinely kind, loving person even if my face says otherwise. oops. i have a severe case of resting sad face, so sorry.
i'm smitten with people who are weird but not weird enough to make others uncomfy, or unable to enjoy the weirdness, ya know? i know you know. i like people who are into things that others mostly aren't: tarot, astrology, deep conversations, things like that. i might not actively be participating in said things but i like hearing the perspective of people who are! my friends always joke that i'm the person people say "i can fix her!" about but uh, i'm awesome. i don't need fixed. ✨i will admit though, i hesitate about people a lot because while i do want a best friend -- mine have scorned me, so i need someone patient with me and understanding of that, please. please. i adore social connections but i do come with a social battery and it needs refilled. me needing that time does not negate the connection i have built with you and am nurturing with you.
i will genuinely offer you diamonds in the form of friendship, just reciprocate it. i will offer you the safest, most non-judgement free zone you can imagine, you are always - always, safe with me. i just ask that you are a good, kind, compassionate friend to me. you can literally tell me anything in the world and if it isn't hurting anyone else, i will listen without judgment. i promise you. i'll also send you spotify songs that i really like, so hi. hello.
on to the fun tingz (and the stuff that will hopefully bring you in),
i'm watching my first ever anime, like ever and no we're not going to talk about my real first ever anime because it might've been a live action and it might've been death note and maybe i enjoyed it (holy crap, sueeeee me) but i have a few on my list to watch but i got pressured into this one, so far so good! let's talk about it, ask me which one it is! it's a pretty popular one lol. maybe you can guess it! either way, i'm also into horror shows/movies. i'm not really into the gory ones anymore, nor the emotional horror so i'll pass. my heart strings are saying noOoO thanks. i love watching movies with friends and even anthology shows like cabinet of curiosities, dark mirror, etc etc. i don't mind anything else! hit me up. i'll tell you some stuff i like(d)
currently, iiiiii am a graphic design major with a knack for not drawing. i mean, i guess i do like pixel art but honestly, i am still learning and trying new things everyday 💤 however, i'm in the process of changing majors to cybersecurity! which starts in June, so wish ya girl luck 💅
i am a gamer, so come game with me! i don't play league, my mental health is terrible enough, thank you. i also don't play wow, my attention span could never. i do, however, play valorant because i don't like myself that much. i got you there, didn't i? i play a few other things: CS, starting to get into overwatch 2 (please play this with me and if you ask me my rank, i'll cry), party animals, pummel party (can we please?) etc. i tend to hang out in valorant land though, i won't lie. i do not take it seriously and honestly, nor should you.. nerd.
i am ✨sPiCy✨so if that bothers you, i am sorry. i, again, am a genuinely kind person but i do have a snarkiness to me that is meant to be a slight "i love you" + dash of bully. ❤

https://preview.redd.it/wxs9xm7knb1d1.png?width=1140&format=png&auto=webp&s=e54a0e5c3105a47293be0284a119d6379b3fc792
9th: Rise
Rise Route in the original is really good, but her Epilogue is so underwhelming IMO, so sadly, she is ranked the lowest.
8th: Konomi
SEKKUSU ! I will be honest... I never saw Konomi as a suitable love interest for Masaya. I've always seen her as a cute, little sister... The route... is fun... not gonna change my personal view on Konomi but it's serviceable. Also her chanting "Sex ! Sex ! Sex !" alone in her room will always be funny to me. However, the reason why Rise lost in this route is SO STUPID ! Masaya gone back to square one ! The students saw him as the Seductive Serpent, because he's dating a girl who's younger than him... EXCUSE ME ?! Isn't Ritsuko younger than him but somehow Rise still won in Ritsuko's route ?!
7th: Ruriko
The moment Masaya punched Ruriko's fiance in the original, I know Ruriko is gonna be a great love interest. Their dynamic is great, a hard-working, used to be poor, jack of all trade Masaya and rich, kind, naive, Ruriko. Though it sucks that we just know Rise lost in this route with no explaination whatsoever. Overall, a great route, just not as good as others.
6th: Tamie
This route is a great change of pace. With the first chapter dedicated to the "Fun, Lightning" tour, 1,5 chapter dedicated to Tamie regaining her memories, it's an unique route. And her personality grew on me.
5th: Marika
A Romeo and Juliet kind of route. Seeing Marika's true self under a more casual, natural lense... it's such a good feeling, and hey.... this route managed make me stop hating Marika's grandmother and make hate the other students SO MUCH. And I love how Masaya gave the Headmistress a final "F*ck you" before leaving Vincennes.
4th: Mitsuki
The "Enemy-to-Lover" route I originally looked for when I first download the "Princess Evangile" VNs. Mitsuki is definitely really unlikeable in the first 12 chapters of the original, but she redeemed herself. The route is definitely great, seeing her being more confident and... beating Rise is great... in its weird way.
3rd: Ayaka
Ayaka's journey is consistently good, which is great ! Love seeing Ayaka being more mature, Ayaka and Ritsuko somes loves each other more, the Headmistress having a true 180 change and Ayaka's family being so happy at the end... It's just heartwarming.
2nd: Chiho
This... is surprising... I consider Chiho's route the worst in the original... Her epilogue though... it's just so good... Childhood friends is another romance trope that I love beside Enemy-to-Lover... But once you read it, it's just heartwarming, Masaya helping Chiho's family, AND the final scene... They worked it out... all the way... Seeing Masaya now is married and having a beautiful wife and a cute little girl... I sobbed... I did...
1st: Ritsuko
What can I say ? Seeing Ritsuko being so passionate about her relationship with Masaya... plus their wedding scene... it's awesome.
THAT concludes my Princess Evangile journey... NEXT STOP: "THE FRUIT OF GRISAIA !"

Poem by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore (photo of text)
English Translation by David Paley (Another translation to explore is by Louis Simpson)
Les séparés The Separated Apart
Do not write. I am sad and would like to fade away. The fine summers without you are nights without light. I have folded my arms unable to reach you; And to knock at my heart is to beat on my grave. Do not write!
Do not write. Let us learn only to die in ourselves. Ask only of God… of yourself, whether I loved you! In the depths of your absence, to hear that you love me Is to be hearing from heaven without ever ascending. Do not write!
Do not write. I am fearful of you and afraid of my memory That has kept your voice and calls to me often; Do not show me the water that cannot be drunk For your cherished writing brings your portrait alive. Do not write!
Do not write those sweet words that I dare not read any more: It seems that your voice spreads them over my heart; And, as I see them through the glow of your smile; It seems they are stamped with a kiss on my heart. Do not write!
https://preview.redd.it/nfboc8l2rb1d1.jpg?width=700&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6281eaa6bb17dae221fecc3aefeae5db72386ed3

I dont like all the formulaic popular comedies, I need something clever or at least refreshing or novel.
Bonus points for black comedies.
Fav comedy movie is midnight run.
Some others that I like are
Factotum
Poor things
The castle
Naked
Aferim
In the soup
Red rocket
Galaxy quest
Birdman
In the loop
Living in oblivion
The death of Stalin
Bananas
Barton fink
O brother where art thou
Don’t look up
Mindhorn
Triangle of sadness.
The gaurd
Down by law
Etc etc etc
Thx

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