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The bright yellow terror

‘’Every now and then I would stare at the murky brown water below and see several small glimpses of bright yellow popping up from and then retreating down below the surface in rhythmic fashion. Like a dance routine. Bright deadly yellow. The rotting sweet stench of death still lodged in my nostrils.’’
I had happened upon these diary pages by mistake when I was digging through old boxes in my basement. My wife had insisted, finally, that I sort out and get rid of everything I didn’t need. Now here I was, confronted with a part of my past I had tried to suppress unsuccessfully for so many years. 24 years to be exact. 24 odd years of trying to understand what exactly happened in those days when I was trapped on a rooftop in Phuket during a deadly and disastrous natural catastrophe.
24 odd years of having to dodge around questions of my abject and unwavering fear of the ocean. Well, in truth, I guess being caught in a large tsunami and witnessing immense destructive forces of nature coming directly from the great wide ocean would be a fair excuse, but it was only half the truth. It wasn’t just the waves themselves that had terrified me.
Until now, I thought the water damaged remains of the diary I kept back then was lost. I even hoped it was. I never shared this story with anyone. Partly because the horror was too fresh in my memory back then and I wanted to focus on moving on with my life and by the time I felt my mind was stabilized I had no real interest in returning to that dark part of my past. Partly because the right words always escaped me.
Mostly because I was afraid people would think I was insane. I can no longer contain this, however. I need an outlet. I spend years running from it. But I guess I can’t lie to myself anymore. Someone once told me that writing can be therapeutic. Simply putting your thoughts down on paper, or in our times, more likely in word document, can help you compartmentalize trauma. So, I’m giving it a try. I can’t pretend the events of those days in Phuket didn’t cast a shadow over everything in my life that came after.
I often think of the beach days I missed with my son when he was a boy. Days where I should’ve done dad stuff. Thrown him into the ocean. Watched him laugh his little face of as he braved the waves. Helped him build sandcastles. Gone exploring along the sandy shores in search of beached treasure in the form little rocks and the odd piece of amber. I just couldn’t. Initially I had objected to the idea of him going at all. Naturally, my wife would hear none of that and I realized reluctantly, that my fear and trauma should not rule my son’s life. Instead, my wife would go, and I would always stay home. She understood, to some degree, what I had gone through and where my fear came from.
Only to some degree. My son did not, and I fear he resented my absence on those perfect sunny days, despite my efforts to make up for it with other activities. Both he and my wife certainly noticed how closed off I was about certain parts of my past. Secrets untold, especially those who are grounded in trauma, almost inevitably turns to toxic in our systems. I’m finally ready. I just hope it isn’t too late.
I won’t lie. I’ve always had a vivid imagination although I have never had trouble distinguishing between what is real and what is not. At least until my sense of reality was forever challenged. I know these things happened to me. I know what I saw and what I experienced was real. I just don’t have a truly rational explanation for it. Yet, I swear, there was something in the water that came with that tsunami. Something deeply, deeply unnatural. Something brightly and oddly yellow. I had no other word for it than the bright yellow terror.
I had travelled to Thailand, more precisely Bangkok late December 2000. 19 years old about to turn 20. I was on one of those infamous and increasingly popular self-discovery trips. I had caught the fever. Like so many other young hopeful adventurers at the time I had seen The Beach. I had read into the wild by Jon Krakauer.
I watched Dicaprio walk the sandy shores of paradise and read on in excitement and awe as Christopher McCandles set out to become one with nature and discover himself. Kill the false being within and all that. In simple terms, I thought I’d try and find my own slice of heaven on earth. Expand my horizon. Get to know some new people. Learn something about myself in the process perhaps. I wasn’t exactly fleeing from anything, that wasn’t it. I had a loving although cuddling and overprotective family. Especially my mom would worry about me constantly (and still does).
Yes, I admit it. My parents had paved the way for me at almost every step. Made sure I got into the right schools. Made sure I never needed for money. I guess I got tired of feeling dependent on them. I stopped taking their money and saved up for the trip myself. It was time I stepped up. It was time I threw myself into the world to see what would happen. Hell of a time and place I picked for that.
The following story is based on the surviving pages of the diary I kept during the time and my own memory.
Bangkok 23rd December 2000. 4 days before the tsunami.
‘’My first day in Bangkok. Quite overwhelming but in a nice way. No one here to save me. No one here to tell me what to do. Thailand is hot and humid and there’s something in the air. I think it’s adventure. I think it’s limitless opportunity. I met a monkey in a diaper and got thoroughly beaten and lost 100 bath in a game of connect four by some 10-year-old kid. Got scammed as well though, I will have to wise up and learn the ropes. Avoid the yellow taxis. Go for the Tuk Tuks. Well, lesson learned. I met a guy who told me all kinds of terrifying things about Australia. Robert. I’m meeting him in Phuket a couple of days from now.’’
You could probably imagine the excitement bubbling within me. For the first time on my own. 19 years old. Prime of my life. In a strangely new and exotic city. Possibilities seemed endless. I still remember vividly driving off with the wind in my hair in a tuk-tuk as Bangkok unfolded before me with all its oriental mysticism and surrounding cityscapes. To be fair, I had never even seen an honest to god palm tree before as they simply couldn’t grow in the northern climate I was from.
I got myself stationed in a decent guesthouse around Khaosan Road. Everywhere I looked it seems others had gotten the same idea as me. Backpackers littered the streets and in a strange way, I felt at home amidst this quiet chaos, amidst the crowds of hopefully likeminded explorers, far, far away from home. The humidity was hitting me though, it was something I would have to get used to. It felt like a wet hot invisible blanket. Khaosan Road was perfect for me. A meeting place for young backpackers, with tons of opportunities to plan further travels. I did after all, not plan on staying in Bangkok for too long. It was just a stepping point to other adventures.
It was still early, and the humidity was clammy as hell. I was in the mood to socialize and with no real plans I simply ventured out into the streets of Bangkok, circling around the area where my guesthouse was located. It wasn’t long before the first opportunity presented itself in the form of a taxi driver calling me over. He offered to take me on a tour of the city. Foolish and naïve as I was, I indulged him. I remember how the cab driver lit up a doobie, joint, spliff, devil’s lettuce whatever you want to call it.
You know it as soon as you breathe in the air. Don’t get me wrong, I smoked myself, but letting a clearly high person drive me around the busy Bangkok traffic did not seem like a good idea. I should probably have asked to be let out that very moment, but as the kind of timid, shy type of person I was plus the desire to just go along with whatever happened come what may made me stay. Unsurprisingly I was eventually led to a store, fitted for a suit a didn’t want, and then subsequently charged an obscene amount for the cab ride. I didn’t have the courage to refuse his unreasonable demand. Noteworthy mention. That same night I heard from a fellow traveler that just recently someone had been stabbed in an argument with a cab driver. I didn’t let it get me down or drive me off course, because as you’ve probably gathered by now, I didn’t have a course.
As day turned to night and when the sun’s rays slowly disappeared behind the rooftops of Bangkok, the city itself began to transform. As if a part of it which had laid dormant, hidden away from the light, started to emerge.
Neon lights advertising different bars, people making all kinds of promises of untold pleasures and sensations. Tourists ready to party. All now filled the streets. Some seemed all too aware of what they were looking for, others simply drifted around aimlessly, in search of something unknown, something to spice up their existence. I found a small seemingly cool place called The Hangover. I swear to god, I wish to this day I hadn’t. Maybe then I wouldn’t have set my course for Phuket. In any case, I went in and pushed myself through the crowds of rowdy and loud tourists and up the bar where I ordered a Pina Colada. Please don’t judge me. I just really like coconuts and the song is pretty good as well. Standing at the crowded bar and looking around, hoping something interesting would catch my eye. But most of all, I was hoping someone would just take the first step and come talk to me.
Someone did. His name was Robert, and he was from Australia. A tall skinny and no-nonsense older guy who seemed quite experienced with all things Thailand. He eventually invited me down to his group of friends at the far back end of the bar. Robert spared no time telling me about himself. He had worked all kinds of jobs, in all kinds of places. Most recently he had worked as a guide in Phuket. Among other things he had arranged rock climbing expeditions. I probably forgot to mention, I was big into rock climbing and generally all kinds of outdoor activities back then.
I already had quite the climbing experience despite my young age. As Robert talked about all the places he’d been, he made me feel like the novice I was. That was never his intention though, as I quickly learned. He wasn’t a bragger. He just knew what he was talking about and when he laughed, he did it with his entire face and in a way that made you laugh with him and feel comfortable.
Eventually the conversation naturally gravitated towards Australia. A place I had always wanted to visit. He looked at me for a second, as if to contemplate something. Then told me to watch out for locals trying to play pranks on me. I was naturally interested in hearing more and that’s when he told me about drop bears. Supposedly drop bears are carnivorous versions of Koalas residing in trees to then drop down on unsuspecting victims and viciously attack them. We laughed quite a lot, and I admitted I would probably have believed the stories as I was a fairly naive person and the idea of hostile subspecies of koalas didn’t seem that farfetched to me. It would be typical of past me to get punked around like that. Our conversation then shifted towards Australian wildlife and fauna and the horrors residing within its diverse and complicated eco system. He told me about a plant not uncommonly referred to as the suicide plant. Dendrocnide moroides or more commonly known as stinging tree, stinging bush or gympie gympie apparently has such a nasty and painful sting it made a man commit suicide simply to escape the pain. Another dangerous inhabitant was the box jellyfish he explained.
Their sting was about as deadly as it gets. A single sting to a human will cause necrosis of the skin, excruciating pain and, if the dose of venom is large enough, cardiac arrest and death within minutes. I have always found jellyfish equal parts fascinating and equal parts frightening. Beautiful but deadly creatures. In fact, the ocean, in all its grand wide-reaching glory had always horrified me to some extent. So much unexplored space. Who truly knows what could be lurking down there? Robert quickly assured me, that as long as you take your precaution the likelihood of getting stung by a box jellyfish was rather small. They had signs up warning people against them. Generally, do not ignore these signs. They are there for a good reason.
It was getting late and before we said our goodbyes Robert suggested I meet him in Phuket, more precisely in the Khao Lak area on the 28^th as that was the first day he would be able to. I thought why not? He seemed genuinely nice and knowledgeable. Just good company all around and he promised to show me the greatest climbing spots a bit away from the crowded tours. It was a start.
I would never meet Robert again. I don’t know what happened to him. Thinking back on those days leading up to the point the waves came crashing down always gives me an uneasy, sad, and melancholic feeling. The people I met in Bangkok talking about going south. Those I met in Phuket before it happened. I have no idea if they ended up as corpses floating through the murky brown waters or god forbid, victims of that unholy terror from the deep. I hope Robert wasn’t among those unfortunate souls who died or went… ‘’Missing’’. Although if I must pick one or the other. I would hope he died quickly.
Bangkok 24^th of December 2000. 3 days before the tsunami.
I woke up with a slight hangover. Christmas is commonly celebrated on this date in my country, so I was expecting some calls to go through on my brick sized Nokia at some point once all the good folks back home woke up. They were about 5 hours behind me and at 9 AM Bangkok time they would still be sleeping. I used the time to do some shopping before my trip to Phuket. I got plenty of rope, a couple of snap hooks and a harness. I knew they’d have all of this on the guided tours, but I liked to find my own spots to climb, and I had good sense and knowledge enough to not attempt anything too daring. By the way. For those uninitiated, snap hooks are used to make a quick, reversible connection on a system of ropes, or to connect a rope or cord to another component, like a lanyard medallion or barrier post. Essential if you want to go climbing. If you’ve ever gone ziplining it’s the thing that connects you safely to the zipline and lets you slight across.
After having done my shopping, I bought a bus ticket to Phuket intending on leaving that same night and went back to my hotel room. As exciting as Bangkok was, I felt it was more for people intend on partying and in all honesty, a bit too crowded for me. I was excited to move on and I could always come back if I wanted to. On my way into the reception area, I was stopped by a young hip looking dude looking for a cigarette. Now I don’t necessarily consider myself a perfect judge of character, but he had an easy-going way about him that immediately drew me in. Sometimes, you can just tell.
He had sort of a rugged look about him. Dirty blond half-long hair. His face I would best describe as boyish but something in his eyes betrayed him and revealed his age to be older than you would assume. His style was… Boheme I guess I would describe it as. Like something taken out of the 70s LA scene. I’m not a smoker. Never was. So, I couldn’t help him on that front. It didn’t matter he would find someone else he said. For a while we just casually talked. Apparently, he had come to Bangkok just a few days prior and seemed about as lost and without direction as I had been before deciding on taking my chances in Phuket. Alex was his name, and he would later save my life and help me understand what it means to forge a quick and unbreakable connection through shared trauma, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
He asked me if I wanted to go somewhere and get a beer. I thought why not? He was about my age and on his own as well. I told him I had to go make some calls and I’d be out in about an hour. Back the hotel room I quickly gathered all my stuff and packed it up, so it was ready to go. My climbing gear took up the most space. I figured if things went well with Alex, I might be able to persuade him in joining me at some point in Phuket. Even though I had set out for this trip to be about discovering myself and being on my own, I longed for some kind of company. Don’t we all? I called my parents up and we wished each other a happy Christmas. It was odd to think they were somewhere nearly half-way across the world celebrating Christmas while snow draped the landscapes there. Here I was, In hot and humid paradise. No, I did not miss the cold or the snow, but I did miss not being there to celebrate the holidays with my family. But it had been my choice to go during the holiday season and I did not regret it. I had saved up enough money and there was no point in waiting anymore. There would be many other holidays to celebrate in the future.
My 5-year-old nephew somehow got a hold of the phone. Not quite the conversationalist yet, it still felt good to hear his voice. Hearing his excitement over the prospect of celebrating Christmas brought me back to my own childhood. Decorating the Christmas tree, watching holiday cartoons and of course, opening presents. I finished my calls and went out to see if Alex was ready. He was already waiting for me and had apparently managed to score some cigarettes in the meantime. He had changed his outfit as well. Now wearing a faded black doors t-shirt. We talked a bit about Jim Morrison and the doors as we headed off down streets. We passed a myriad of small stands selling everything from electronics to colorful t-shirts and small bracelets with campy misspelled English catchphrases. We dodged the many intrusive offers and eventually found a small comfy looking bar with seats outside shaded by palm trees. We ordered a couple of beers and the conversation started flowing along quite nicely. Alex was 25 and from London It turned out. We also had a common interest in music. For a while he had busked as a street musician while working odd jobs here and there and had eventually decided to travel the world.
His first stop had been India where for a while he had lived on the rooftop of some abandoned building while attempting to learn the art of playing the sitar. I thought about that for a second. Living it rough on some rooftop in India. I don’t know why that idea intrigued me so much. Seemed like freedom to me, I guess. Sleeping under the wide-open skies. Looking down on the streets and watching people go about their lives. I guess I just liked the idea of doing something that seemed different from what I had ever done before. Living on a rooftop, if even just for a while, was definitely not something I had done before. There was the view as well, Alex reminded me. And it was free of course. We drifted off into long conversations about music I won’t bore you too much with, only to let you know we shared a passion for old school music like the doors and Jimi Hendrix as well as 90s shoegaze music like My Bloody Valentine, Ride and Slowdive. I had Slowdive’s Shine playing in my mind that day. All felt so dreamy at the time.
I eventually told Alex of my plans to go to Phuket and he was onboard almost immediately. I loved how easy it was here on the road. There was no ‘’well maybe’’, or ‘’let’s think about it.’’ In fact, Alex had been to Phuket before and knew of a place we could stay for free. Another rooftop of course, but he had already sold me on the idea. From there, we could plan our next step he said. ‘’our next step’’ I don’t remember vibing with someone that quickly before or since, but then I guess making friends is always easier when you’re young and easy going. I always seemed to attract good company without much effort back then. I chalk it down to my friendly and slightly shy demeanor. Seems it only becomes harder to make friends as the years pass though. At least for me it did.
We got a bus ticket for Alex and shopped a bit more. I got some first aid supplies. Bandages, plasters, that kind of stuff. Rock climbing is safe, mind you, but you can end up scraping yourself and I felt in general, being prepared for whatever might be a good idea if I was to live it rough on some rooftop. The bus-ride to Phuket took about 12 hours give or take. By going at night, we could sleep most of the way and be in Phuket early morning on the 25^th. The trip down was uneventful. We would take turns listening to music on Alex’s Walkman or talk about things we saw along the way. Like roadside bars and restaurants who were little more than a tin roof covering a few plastic chairs and brightly colored menu cards. Everything seemed simpler here, in the best ways possible.
No big flash, no fanfares or luxury. Nothing pretentious. Just a calm, laid back atmosphere and friendly smiles from the locals as we passed by. Alex told me he wanted to start a band blending elements of Shoegaze with classic rock and insisted I learn to play the drums as he had tried but found no luck. String instruments were more him he told me. I told him jokingly if he could come up with a good name, I might be down. He just nodded and looked out the window and started talking about how beef was a rare and more expensive ingredient in Thai cuisine, and I wondered about the sudden random change of subject. Although we had talked a lot during the short time we had known each other, Alex was still a mystery to me in many ways. Judging from all the things he told me he seemed like a person who dreamed big, but never really followed through
An unfinished education. Scribbles on pieces of paper that ended up gathering dust in his drawer instead of turning into a book. A band that never really took off because he lost interest or didn’t deem that it was good enough to get successful. He talked at length about leaving a legacy. It seemed to be something that concerned him. I guess he wanted to put his mark on the world. To be remembered. To live on in some small way. I had never really thought about it myself although I did have a fascination with historical people and the lives they lived. In fact, when I do read I mostly read biographies. I just never had any ambition like that myself. I don’t need the world to know my name, or sing my praises, or remember me. Good friends, family and a sense of freedom and adventure was enough. I had tried to ask Alex about his family and friends back home, but he seemed avoidant and always found a way to change the subject without really providing any meaningful information. At certain points, I sensed a carefully hidden sadness behind his otherwise optimistically youthful and bright blue gaze.
Phuket 25^th of December 2000. 2 days before the tsunami.
Alex woke me up. It was 9 AM and we had arrived at the Phuket bus terminal 1 near Phang Nga Road. We were here. Alex explained to me that the there were several derelict and abandoned buildings perfect for establishing a free of charge rooftop domicile in an area not too far from the resorts of Khao Lak. Phuket back then wasn’t exactly the overcrowded tourist spot it is today, but it was well on the way. I understood why. The scenery was beautiful. Long sandy beaches with small island dots in the horizon, begging to be explored. Giant limestone cliffs covered in green shrubs. It did seem like paradise to me, without being too far away from civilization. I guess despite my adventurous nature, I wasn’t quite ready at that point, to walk into the wild, which is why Khao Lak seemed perfect as a start for me.
We found the area Alex had talked about. Several derelict buildings were concentrated in a small area divided by a main street that if followed long enough, led to an area with shops and places to dine. We set our eyes on what looked like an abandoned apartment complex. It was derelict, rugged looking and it seemed clear at first that no one lived there. Its ghostly façade begged us inside to explore and we accepted the invitation. As we made our way in, through a busted window in the back, we quickly became aware that the place might not be as abandoned as we had initially thought. Several signs of squatters such as cooking utensils and sleeping mats lay scattered here and there. Alex quickly rationalized that it could just be other backpackers, or it could be the people had moved on. I shrugged and we decided to make our way to the roof. We made our way to the top floor and accessed a broken-down door that led directly out onto the roof. I must admit, besides excitement, I was somewhat hesitant. Any doubt I had disappeared when we first stepped onto the rooftop terrace. It was perfect. It seemed it had functioned as a balcony or space of sorts the inhabitants could make use of for gatherings.
The entire space was surrounded by a fence. Several palm trees shaded the northwest corner which was perfect for when things got too hot. In the middle a small shed or janitorial sort of building stood. We found some cleaning materials, brooms, some parasols in there as well as an old rusty grill. The view was great. We could see the large beachfront in the far distance surrounded by limestones. After inspecting the area and finding it to our liking we sat down, and Alex broke out a bottle of whiskey. Unaware of the horror that would later unfold here, we celebrated in the shade of the palm trees. We had found our place for a while. Our place.
After a while we decided to put some money in the local economy and shop for supplies.
Essentials: Water. Cigarettes. Booze. The devil’s lettuce. Cooking utensils. Although none of us was admittedly any much of a cook. But what the hell. Can’t be seen dining out every night when we were trying to live off the fat of the land so to speak. I know, ridiculous. We were squatters. Nothing more. But heck, we would move on if we became a problem for any one here. We weren’t trying to be a bother.
Optional but greatly wanted: A blow-up animal mascot. Maybe a dolphin if possible. Some new music for Alex’s walk-man. A guitar. Decorating artifacts of any kind to make our domicile more personal.
We more or less got everything we needed and started setting up base. Getting our hands on something funny to smoke proved the biggest challenge but Alex finally succeeded at a beachfront bar. Some friendly Norwegian dude who had connections apparently. He warned us against being too open about doing drugs, even if was ‘’just’’ marijuana. Thailand had a strict approach to drugs. We thanked him and he told us to just come back here at the bar if we needed more, he was usually around.
Afternoon was rolling around and there we were. Sitting atop Phuket. On our very own rooftop presidential suite. We decorated the place with a few things we found. Among them ‘’Arthur’’ our blow-up shark (they had no dolphins). Alex had come up with the name, I asked him why ‘’Arthur’’ but in what I had quickly come to know as typical Alex fashion he just shrugged it off. We just smoked a bit and drank some booze as the evening progressed and I told Alex about Robert and Australia and all the nasty things that could kill you there. I’m not sure why, but it had made an impression on me. Insects, rare poisonous creatures, stuff like that was nightmare fuel for me. Don’t even get me started on spiders. Alex was a bit more laid back on that front. He seemed most amused and interested in the suicide plant and wondered if some poor soul had ever mistakenly used it as toilet paper and we had a good hard chuckle over that idea. Poor soul indeed.
As night rolled on stars started popping up on a clear night the sky and I learned that Alex had a fascination with the universe. Particularly the idea of multiverses and infinite universes. What if somewhere out there we were looking back at ourselves. Slightly different but still us. Sometimes it seemed to me he longed to be anywhere else but where he was. Maybe trapped in the past he was so reluctant to share with me. Then we started talking about time. I don’t exactly remember why. I think he brought it up.
Anyway, Alex had a lot to say about time. Like how he believed our perception of time is tied to our experiences. For example, someone who spends their life not stepping up, not really taking risks or chances, just following along the stream, just following the routine, in essence, just killing time, might experience time as having moved fast when they look back, because there are simply less variety, less volume, less memories to look back on. We don’t remember routines, we remember breaking them, we remember doing new things, meeting new people, being in new places. It creates the illusion that gives time volume, that makes it seem fuller, longer. I liked that idea a lot. It made sense to me. Make sure you live life to the fullest and waste as little time as possible.
I told him about my 10^th grade math teacher and how he said something about time I will never forget. Our perception of time can be measured mathematically. For example, to a 4-year-old turning 5 the transition of a year will seem much longer than it will to a 24-year-old turning 25. Because 1 in 5 is a larger fraction than 1 in 25. It blew my mind. The longer you live, the faster time seem to pass. But I agreed with him, maybe the quality and variety of the life you live and the memories you make has an affect too. Alex made a ‘’boom’’ motion with his hands around his head and laughed. We were quite stoned at that point and well, some of you might know how being stoned sometimes throws you into these philosophical conversations. It was nice. I enjoyed the ease with which I could talk to Alex about all kinds of things.
At one point I asked him a hypothetical. If he could go back in time and change just one thing, what would he do. He fell silent. I once again sensed the sadness creeping behind his eyes. It was if he was about to answer, like he was sizing me up but then shot the idea down. Time travel is impossible, so why bother was his only response and I accepted that whatever troubled him in the past, was not for me to know even if my interest only grew stronger and stronger.
I told him about my family. My overprotective mother. My father and his desperate attempts to get me interested in cars. About my older sister and my nephew. Alex nodded and asked the usual polite questions. When the subject came to my little brother his interest seemed to spark significantly. How old was he? Was I good older brother? Did I look out for him? I didn’t think much about it at the time other than finding it curious how interested he seemed to be. When we finally settled in the for night, under the starry sky, I slipped into a nightmare. It was the same I had had years earlier when I was 16. Back then I was having a hard time adjusting to the new school I had started at and maybe because of that stress I was having nightmares coupled with sleep paralysis.
I would lie in my bed, paralyzed. On my side, facing the door to my room. I often had the light on outside of the room and it would shine in through the open door. This one time , I saw dark figure approaching. Optimistically I assumed it was my mom, coming to wake me up. Although as the dark figure approached, I quickly realized this wasn’t so. No words were uttered. The eerie figure just slowly came closer, until it was right by my bed side. It sat down and I realized it was an old woman or man. It was hard to tell, because its face was literally just a mish mash of wrinkled flesh. No eyes and no mouth either. But it mumbled through its mouthless face. Speaking in tongues.
I spent some considerable time afterwards wondering what it could have been trying to communicate to me. I know of course, this was all just my mind playing tricks on me. Yet, that experience was, I suppose, my first nudge towards believing there’s more between heaven and earth than we might know. It seemed aggressive in any case. My insides were screaming as I desperately tried to wiggle myself awake as I had sometimes successfully done during paralysis. I eventually woke up. Drenched in sweat. Back then though, I had actually been in my room, and in the dream the room had stood clearly for me as it actually looked in reality which only made it seem more real. This time, I woke up next to Alex, still drenched in sweat. Alex had woken up. I had screamed in my sleep apparently. He comforted me in an almost brotherly show of affection. It took me by surprise a bit. I appreciated it, though it only made me wonder about him even more. I would have to solve the mystery behind Alex I decided. I would have to truly gain his trust. Figure him out. And I did.
Phuket 26^th of December 2000. 1 day before the tsunami.
‘’Alex played the guitar a bit and I drummed up some beats. It needed some work, but not half bad. We came up with a name for our band to be as well. Subway sleepers. Based on Alex’s time sleeping in the subway of London. It was another hot perfect day on the rooftop. We talked about going climbing the next day and I can’t wait to show Alex the joys of rock climbing. Everything is peaceful here. No stress. Just living life. Smoking it up. Meeting new people. We talked some more with that Norwegian weed dude and invited him and a couple of his friends up to ‘’our’’ place for a party. Another near perfect day.’’
Looking at these diary scribbles is making me feel it all over again. The serenity of those calm worriless summer days (well it was winter back home but it felt like summer here. Strange that) leading up to disaster. Always calmest before the storm they say. This was our last day before everything changed. Before I got a lesson in humanity. In stress under crisis. Before everything I thought I knew changed forever in the meeting with something that surely shouldn’t exist in this world.

So I told Lydia to wait somewhere else and then did the puzzle for the horny. Though even when people say to just wait or sleep 3 days, she didn't go back to Dragonsreach. I kinda wish she were dead so I can just get a new companion.

Stay with me because I promise this has a resolution at the end. The hard truth is maybe they aren't your twin flame. Who knows? that is something only you can know yourself and no one else can tell you. It is something you feel deep down. But I promise it will still be okay, painfully, slowly, it gets better, when you focus on yourself and when you come into your own person. More on how to do this below.
I know what it's like to yearn so desperately, to feel an intense connection and they run away. It hurts more than words are strong enough to communicate. I know you probably don't want to be told to focus on yourself, that you just want them to come back that you look for signs that they will return. But the only way to go forward, to start a new change is to let go of being stuck on them. You need to break the cycle and come into your own strength, your own beauty, and be okay with them being gone. I know, so much easier said than done right? It's not easy, it's incredibly hard and no one can take that away from your journey, even if some don't understand. So many people separate and seem to get over things almost so much faster you might feel like you are going crazy. You are not crazy. Your feelings are real, raw, true, and valid. No matter what people think about twin flames, if you know you just know, and no one can take that away from you.
You CAN get over this, you hold the power inside to let go even if it's scary. You can still care and move on and improve. You don't need to stop caring suddenly to end separation, you can still love and at the end of the day be okay with them being gone and to still be whole by yourself. There are lessons we all need to learn before we can improve and what any individual needs is specific to their journey. Reflection is not easy and we all run from something, but if you truly desire to improve your circumstances run to your fears, challenge them, see what they are trying to tell you about what you need to become. You are so much stronger than you might even realize now, there's always more courage to draw from. Always trust if you are truly fated, they will return. Don't spend another month/yeaor more doing the same thing.
Still want specific follow through advice? In my experience shadow work including shadow work questions, learning healthy detachment and radical acceptance. For us chasers these are the keywords I suggest you look into in books or even online (everyone starts somewhere) and everyone is different. I know this is still general and seems simple but once you fully and truly believe and practice it, it is so freeing.
"I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul." - Invictus

Hello everyone, In October I'll go india for a Yoga teaching course and before that I would like to do a group tour probably with G Adventure, starting and eding in Delhi. The "problem" Is that between the finish of the tour and the start of the yoga course I have 3 empty days and I don't want to spending them in Delhi but rather somewhere else calmer and chiller. Do you have any advise at all? My tour Will be in Rishikesh
Thanks

Anyone else noticing how unfinished non-dedicated servers are? I play on console with my dad and we loved ark survival evolved so we were planning on trying out ark survival ascended. The first thing we noticed was the tether distance made the game unplayable. We came back a few months later when it got changed to somewhere around 1000 meters. I normally join my dad‘s world so i’ve noticed little bugs here and there,
when scorched earth came out my light beams for loot crates disappeared but not for my dad,
i can’t track anything on the tracker,
anytime he goes near a cave the tether distance near the entrance makes me teleport to the host nonstop,
sometimes my dad shows me a loot crate or i stumble across one but i can’t access the inventory,
just recently with the new update adding the x fish and the Ceratosaurus, anytime i try to join his non deticated server it crashes and goes back to the main screen
I don’t understand why the non dedicated servers have so many bugs and why most of the bugs have been around since the start of asa showing that wildcard doesn’t intend to fix them but i do know that other people have been having similar problems and are deciding to stop playing the game, i might stop playing too

Is there doctrine present somewhere in the scriptures that dictate that Priesthood leadership should be the first to be served the sacrament? In my ward today, we have a visiting member of the Stake Presidency, and of course he was the first to partake.
But this got me thinking. If Jesus were visiting your ward, I feel like he would either be serving us the bread and water himself, or at the least, he would want to ensure that every other person was able to partake before He did.
Now I’m not trying to hold leadership to the standard of Jesus (perfection), but then again, don’t we all strive to be like Him?
Just trying to understand if this is doctrine, policy, or tradition. I have never really questioned it before.
Also, what if the General Relief Society President was visiting your ward - why wouldn’t she receive it first, before the Bishop? I understand she’s not the presiding priesthood leader, but on the other hand, she “outranks” everyone else in the building. This doesn’t seem very egalitarian at all. Again, is this doctrine? Tradition/culture? Policy?
And hear me out one more time. How cool would it be if the visiting Stake Presidency member sat with the deacons and actually served the sacrament to members of the congregation?

Basically a wilderness setting. But not just that. I would like it to have the native wildlife be an important part of the narrative, with the wild animals getting tons of focus throughout. Preferably set somewhere in Asia or Africa, but anywhere else works too, if it checks other boxes. Bonus points for themes and plot focus on conservation of said wildlife btw.

This script is completely ok to monetized or modified, just credit me if you do. I hope everyone is doing alright and I hope you enjoy my writing here.
Male speaker “Police still have no viable leads on the thief who has created the largest crime wave in recorded history. They still don’t know who the thief is, just that someone has come forward with a potential pattern to their “attacks.” They have asked to remain anonymous, more on this story as it develops.”
(Pause)
“I'm not a thief, I didn’t steal anything, I’m just always wearing a mask and a jumpsuit.”
(Pause)
“Surprised? I’ve been looking for you since this began and you happen to live on the floor below me.”
(Pause)
“I'm no thief but you- stop backing up or you're going to hit- now that you’re against the wall you won’t be going anywhere dove.”
(Pause)
“I did say I was looking for you, I’m amazed you were able to say that, because it looks like there’s a lot you're struggling to do right now.”
(Pause)
“No no no don’t look away, or I’ll just force you to look me in my eyes. There we are, and maybe try to soften your gaze you could probably hurt someone with a glare that strong.”
(Pause)
“Oh no not me, even though you clearly want me dead with your eyes, your blushing so much it’s gone down your neck under your collar. I wonder where it stops.”
(Pause)
“Your squirming face is adorable but really I’d have thought you’d noticed by now that there’s no hope of you getting away from me.”
(Pause)
“Still on that? yeah I know who you are and I have known for a few years now, a police officer told me not willingly or easily. You dove have quite the resúme, for such an innocent looking little girl it’s the powerful ones that get you isn’t it.”
(Pause)
“Deny it all you want, your body’s giving it away that I’m not only right but have also hit a nerve.”
(Pause)
“You’re so cute when you’re scared that me, the big bad thief figured you out in seconds, and by your expression no one else has ever done anything like this to you.”
(Pause)
“Good, I’d be a little jealous if any other women had gotten to see you like this, I am enjoying this, you could say this is why I was looking for you. Though if you get like this before I’ve even touched you it makes what you’ll look like when being pleasured something I can’t resist for much longer.”
(Pause)
“That got your attention, don’t tell me you're new to this. I would’ve thought you’d be part of a love triangle with the way your co-workers look at you.”
(Pause)
“Still trying to break free? Dove even if you defy all odds and overpower me, you must know I’m smarter than I look. I slipped in here and you didn’t notice even though you’ve been after me for what it feels like forever.”
(Pause)
“Oh of course several people thought they knew where I’d appear next but they were always wrong. Except for you, you tracked me down and almost caught me.”
(Pause)
Speaker laughs “you think I’m here to take revenge? I am not a vengeful woman, just prideful and I don’t take kindly to almost getting caught.”
(Pause)
“Though if you were the one to do it, I don’t think I’d be as opposed to the straight jacket and handcuffs as I usually am.”
(Pause)
“You know I said I never stole anything, but I think you have something you shouldn’t.”
(Pause)
“You can stop squirming, I know your police friends are right outside preparing to kick the door down. Here's the thing, when they break in this apartment will be as empty as it usually is.”
(Pause)
“No I don’t think you get to go inside my apartment… yet… I won't tell you where we’re going, can't have you knowing where my hideout is I know how resourceful you can be. Almost caught me red handed several times. Though I can think of a few other things you might want my hands to be doing instead. Oh dove, your blush has reached your ears, try to relax while I…”
(Sound of a door being forced open)
(Pause)
“Oh dove, awake just on time. Welcome to my hideout, no one will interrupt us here.”
(Pause)
“I would never take advantage of an unconscious woman, I have pride to protect. Yeah it is probably bad for a thief like me to get stumbled on morals and pride like that. And even though you're still fully clothed, you weren't in my head.
(Pause)
“Have you been flirted with when they didn't mean it? Well dove I do, I hope you can keep up with me.”
(Pause)
“You're stammering now, even when I had you against a wall you could string a sentence together. Is having someone like me so close more than your mind can handle. (Speak whispers) “It's going to happen more now so get your tongue back in working order please.”
(Pause)
“Your right I do enjoy doing that to you, you tense up at the slightest brush of your hair, are you one of those girls who acts innocent and is secretly into some unholy things in the bedroom.”
(Pause)
“Wouldn't surprise me, you would have to be a little twisted somewhere to almost catch me, and no you're still not getting away from me.”
(Pause)
“Why would I tie you down, I know you'd get out the second I looked away. Or is that what you're into, or are you just trying to get me off of you?”
(Pause)
“Give me those hands, stop trying to hide your face when you blush, I know I said I am a woman of honor but if you try to hide something like that from me… well I'm sure your mind can fill in the blank.”
(Pause)
“Yep I’ve been looking for you, since the first time you Investigated a crime scene I caused. Culprit always returns to scene of the crime, I was disguised so you probably didn’t know something was happening.”
(Pause)
“I knew immediately you were on my trail more than any of the police officers or city authorized investigators. And I didn’t want to let you roam, you’d eventually catch me so I was going to just take you, still can’t believe you lived one floor below me.”
(Pause)
“No one knew it was me, a mask, remember? And even if someone knew I was the one behind it they couldn't connect me to you going missing, or even know that I have a second home so to speak.”
(Pause)
“”No one is going to find you, this place is hidden and no one else knows who I am. So I’m afrai- actually I’m not afraid or upset but your mine now dove and your not leaving anytime soon.”

I'm sure I'm muddling terminology here, but I basically don't ever want the time selector tool (looks like I-beam text cursor) when working in the arrange window. Unless I've selected something else, I always want the pointer tool (arrow when hovering over blank space, or plus when hovering over clip).
I notice, however, that whenever I choose the pointer tool, it automatically switches to the time selector tool whenever I am hovering over the bottom half of any track (blank space or on clip). All this does is cause problems for me where 50x a day, I have to reselect a group of clips I attempted to select before realizing Bitwig automatically switched tool a millisecond before I clicked, so I'd like to turn it off and get the tool I actually selected if this is possible.
I'm all for having the option of multiple tools without reselecting, but I want to DO something to make that decision rather than having it made for me (like alt-click, etc.). I see how to create key commands, but not how to undo this automatic switching that does not involve key commands.
I'm not sure if I'm looking up the wrong tools, names, or whatever, but I'm not seeing this in search at the moment. Is there a preference somewhere that just gives me just the pointer tool once selected unless I purposefully choose otherwise?

Do you spend a lot of your time day dreaming what life would be like with your perfect match? Would that life consist of lots of quality time spent together, shared hobbies, travelling together, supporting each other and sharing not just the good times? Are your passions a weird conglomerate of sciency and artsy topics? We might just be a match. No, this is not an infomercial.
What makes finding my match somewhat difficult i,0s that my personality is all over the place, I can't really be put into a box and I dream of finding someone I'm deeply compatible with. I have a PhD in physics/math and work in a related field, involving IT and programming. My take on life is rather critical, rational and I'm not religious. BUT I'm also very by morals, emotional in certain aspects and my biggest aspiration in life is having a happy, fulfilling relationship where we are inseparable, each others best friend and more. A soulmate sorta thing if you wish, even though souls obviously don't exist...right?
Soo what are my passions that we could hopefully share together? I have to get the cliché out of the way first, I'm really big on films/tv shows/video games/manga and some books. It's not just something I consume to overcome boredom though, I'm extremely interested in stories and the art of story telling. My tastes are varied and something that would be fun to discuss, some of the things I like:

• weird, obscure horror movies that sometimes make me wonder if anyone else on the planet has ever seen them (spoiler: yes they have). Also horror movies in general.
• "artsy, deeper" movies without bordering into pretentiousness, a line that is entirely subjective but I shall still defend as if an objective truth. Kubrick I really like, also Disney.
• big sucker for romantic comedies and enjoy some goofy comedies as well.
• mostly story driven, single player games, Life is Strange would be an example of a game that had a deeper impact on me, wowser.
• would enjoy getting into multiplayer games together, I consider it a fantastic way to bond. Mario Kart (GoldenEye?) should be obligatory for a couple, friendly trash talking included (or not so friendly, if you're into that). LoL? Yes please (even though I hate it)
• I already feel like it's getting too long (that's what she said) but I enjoy the Harry Potter books and don't like when people call them children's books. They contain more wisdom about life than most literature classics.

The point being, talking about stories, analysing movies together or writing our own video game plot (don't worry I already have an amazing idea, but not so good at writing dialogue)/short stories is a big thing I'd like to share in a relationship.
Still with me? Some other things I enjoy:

• music, especially older stuff rock, pop, some metal, classical and soundtracks!
• photography, especially nature & architecture. Going on a hike or exploring nature with the intent of taking pictures gives you a whole new outlook on things.
• running, that would be a really fun activity to share together as well.
• cooking and every now and then baking. Let me cook a romantic dinner for you?
• travelling! I've somewhat dipped my toe into the digital nomad thing in the last year and loved it. Exploring a new city/country is super exciting to me. My style of travelling is definitely more adventurous. I like being out and about all day and see as much as I can in the time I'm there, doing a moderate but not too crazy amount of research beforehand about attractions. I like a certain degree of spontaneity and some days where we would just walk wherever the wind carries us. Long... really long walks on the beach are the best, especially at night. That being said, I also enjoy a day laying at the beach, café hopping, exploring restaurants or a mall haha. My favourite place so far has been Japan for sure (not a weeb I swear)(lot's of malls here!). If you're a solo traveller let me know. If you're younger or haven't travelled so much, this is not a deal breaker. As long as you're curious and open minded with a sense for adventure.

Phew ok, not done yet. I need to say something about the type of romantic connection I'm desiring as it's somewhat off the norm. I want to spend a lot of time with my partner. A lot. That doesn't even mean constantly engaging with each other, but just being around each other, checking in on each other, leaving little notes, generally what they would call being clingy. Maintaining a happy relationship should be the number 1 priority in your life, as it would be for me. I would never neglect you in favour of other people or obligations and expect the same in return. Location wise would be great if you're in Germany of course, but really doesn't matter that much to me. This would just be an awesome motivation for me to travel somewhere and as I'm very flexible in my day to day life, I would make a visit happen sooner than later.
Appearance wise, 183 cm, caucasian, slimish/fitish/averageish build, short dark brown hair and eyes. Finally, I'll finish off with an arbitrary list of traits that describe me and I'm simultaneously seeking out in a woman: sense of humour (did that come across...like, at all? Writing this post I felt like it was all rather serious at times, because I take this seriously, but my style of communication is more light hearted, being silly together, not taking everything too seriously, but being able to talk maturely should the situation require), responsible, curious, reliable, trustworthy, loyal, honest to a fault, dedicated, creative, self-aware, honest again because it's important, thoughtful, caring, kind but not a pushover, enjoys arguing/debating, romantic, sweet. If you have a (very?) k1nky side that would be the cherry on top, but it's not a must and all in due time.
Have a virtual cookie for making it this far. Now don't be shy and send me a PM already, telling me what's on your mind. If you send a chat and I don't reply, send a little PM as a follow up in case the chat didn't work.

The June 25th 2004 Possessed Property Report, page 8, lists an automobile cigarette lighter as one of the items found. Unless I'm interpreting this wrong, the lighter was loose somewhere in the Saturn and not inside the space where it gets charged.
Why would someone not put the lighter back where it belongs? I think that even in a rush most people would put it back in. (ETA: Though it would require good coordination plus it was dark.) I apologize if this has already been discussed & if so please enlighten me. I mean it takes 2 seconds to put it back in. It seems to indicate an extreme rush.
Also, if this is the red light that FW saw, an automobile lighter doesn't stay red for very long. What would the driver have seen at that very moment that would make them drop the "red light" on the seat or somewhere else in the car? What could it have been that the driver saw but that FW didn't see in those few seconds the red light is on? PD lights? A vehicle they were expecting? Which part of the road would FW not have been able to see from that window? I forgot whether it was East or West - can someone please remind me? Thanks.

Opinions welcomed, but please no judgement. I have been having one of the most emotional and conflicting 6 days Ive ever had probably. As some may have seen from a post I made last Monday, I recently got a puppy who will be 3 mos this Tuesday. It has been the most draining, saddest, overwhelming 6 days Ive experienced and Im seriously considering rehoming because I don’t think I can do this. The thought of doing this for the next 15 yrs or so feels daunting. I don’t even want to come home now, I dread it. I know he’s in a baby phase and these behaviors won’t last forever but it just feels draining to know I’ll have someone else depending on me so heavily for many many years to come. I initially was so excited at the possibility of having a small, chill, dog but had no idea this came first. But even aside from the puppy phase now, I don’t feel that excitement that dog owners feel. This truly feels like a chore. Ive been crying all day yesterday at the thought of him going somewhere else and I not know if they’re being nice to him or taking care of him, but I truly feel like maybe this isn’t for me. I tried reaching out to his breeder and he doesn’t want to take him back. Idk what to do.

Heres my theory on the Stormveil corpse.
Its fully-grown Deathroot.
We get Deathroot as an item in-game but its also all over the world, especially where you find Tibia Mariners or in catacombs. All the mounds covered in eyes are Deathroot as well, some even mimic the inventory icon art, but larger.
Now these mounds are combining corpses with roots and rise to the surface to start raising the corpses and skeletons, and almost always form Godwyn's eyes and sometimes even his hair and face(crabs and pustules). You can see the start of this process in most catacombs, with bodies being combined and lifted in the boss rooms by roots.
If you look at the corpse under Stormveil it is surrounded in open graves, bone piles, and rat corpses while looking like it was once hidden by a tarp. I believe it didnt do this on its own, it was fed enough to spawn its own Ulcerated Tree Spirit (ulcerated from the bodies fed to it) and become fully-grown.
Who fed it and why? Godefroy and to create Grafting.
Godefroy is a part of The Golden Lineage (He is in the Golden Lineage evergaol and holds the Godfrey icon, the game is screaming this at us.) so what on earth could he have done to be locked up and erased from history?
Invent Grafting.
I think Godefroy is similar to Godrick in more way than one, i believe he was weak and sickly just like Godrick and he is supposed to be Godrick's dad and Godwyn's son.
This is what i think happened.
Godefroy was Godwyn's sickly son with little to no power, very similar to Godrick. He was given a castle far away from Leyndell where he could go, as a weak sickly demigod was likely a embarrassment to The Golden Lineage, Godefroy was likely mocked openly by most, again just like Godrick, for his weakness.
Then, suddenly, Godwyn the Golden was horrifically half-murdered on the Night of Black Knives, leaving Godefroy fatherless, weak, sickly, and a public laughing stock. Godwyn was then just thrown in the roots and became a Taboo subject, showing Godefroy that even the strongest and most beloved of demigods are disposable.
After some time, Godefroy would eventually visit Godwyn, seeing a horrifically twisted corpse (that likely much more resembled Godwyn back then) that still showed signs of life. It grew, it spread, and, probably most creepy of all to Godefroy, it stared. Seeing his dad in this state, after everything else, likely cemented his idea to rebel.
How could they let something like this happen to Godwyn the fucking Golden?
Godefroy would then take back a piece of Godwyn, maybe just to give him a grave or shrine in Stormveil he could visit easier. Unknown to him pieces of Godwyn spread Deathroot now.
This piece would keep growing though, eventually foricing Godefroy to hide it with a tarp and sparking his curiosity. Eventually the piece would start to resemble more of a body, growing a face, nose, and eyes, and Marika's Tits did this thing just keep staring. I think if u were constantly getting stared at by ur dads zombified corpse, youd likely remove the eyes.
He would then begin to experiment on the piece of Deathroot, feeding it bodies and watching how it would fuse them to continue its own growth. This gave Godefroy an idea. He would likely start small, maybe with a finger or simply a patch of skin, but eventually he would try to stick a piece of this dead flesh to himself, and saw it worked.
Grafting was born.
In secret, after Godefroy felt he had control, he would teach Godrick about grafting, but told him not to do it yet. Shortly after teaching Godrick, Godefroy's grafting became noticable and began turning heads.
Maybe someone asked a naive Godrick who told them, maybe someone scouted stormveil, but someone caught wind that Graftng was born of an ancient taboo, something the Golden Order now considered the root of all evil, Grafting was born of Godwyn, Prince of Death.
The second this was discovered Godefroy was locked away in a evergaol and erased from history, and Godrick, who was also considered guilty (maybe sins of the father, maybe he talked about grafting) was marked and fled Leyndel in disguise with Mimic Veil. The Leyndel Knight that caught Godefroy was sainted and likely given a gag order or maybe straight up killed, and was venerated in their own Hero Grave.
Godrick would then just hide in Stormveil and fully dive into Grafting, maybe even intentionally mimicing the way his father was Grafted to mock The Golden Order. I think his "BEAR WITNESS" line is more of a taunt to the Golden Order than asking for recognition. He did just tell his forefathers to watch him graft a dragon head.
The rest is in-game.
Theres still some questions, like whether Godrick or Godefroy participated in The Shattering, but i think this explains extremely well whats going on with Stormveil.
Also just throwin this in, the Thorns in Stormveil is Deathroot without dead bodies to cover it with flesh, look at normal deathroot tendrils and theres spikes coming out of what look like octopus suckers. The the thorns are basically the 'skeleton' of deathroot and dead bodies are its flesh.
The thorns are boring holes (mottling) in the castle trying to get at all the corpses Godrick stores for Grafting, and the thorns are removed from Stormveil regularly. You can see the lower part of the castle where the commoners stay is infested with thorns, but the higher parts where the Knights and Godrick stay, and the corpses are stored, are absolutely thorn-free. You can also find several gashes on the ground that look stitched or stapled up. The exiles are most likely the ones assigned to clear the thorns, so they all get infected by them. Everywhere there is mottling in the walls, there was once thorns that were burned or chopped away.
You can however find a single thorn branch in Godrick's boss room along the top of the eastern wall, somewhere unreachable, proving the thorns do reach this high in the castle, they just get removed.

**Key details**
This is 1 bedroom and 1 bathroom in a shared 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom apartment. Your share of the rent would be $1630 a month + utilities (which are usually around $60 a month including internet). Available for move in anytime between now and start of July. June is also FREE if moving in after the 4th. This is a lease takeover, with the lease lasting until May 4th 2025.
**About the apartment**
Modern apartment with 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. Your bathroom isn't en-suite but is about 1 yard from your bedroom door. Bedroom is spacious with comfortably enough room for a queen bed and furniture. There's also a built in closet. There is a washedryer in unit, dishwasher and central AC and heating. The apartment also has a balcony overlooking the courtyard.
**About the building**
Wisconsin Place is the best place I've ever lived. Very modern building, with great amenities including: in-building gym with new equipment, a cinema room, a cafe area with Macs, a rooftop pool and a business center with free printing. All are free to use for residents. The 24 hour reception is also super useful for making sure your packages and things are super safe. The building has an attached parking garage which it shares with a Whole Foods and Friendship Heights metro station. That means you are incredibly close to the metro and on humid/rainy days you don't even have to go outside to catch the red line downtown. The building has a 4.8 rating on Google, which is amazing for an apartment building, and honestly, I'd say that's accurate.
**The roommate**
Jason, my roommate, is staying on in the other room. He's great and one of the best roommates I've had. In his late 20s, works at a local university while also doing his master's there. You'll also be living with his labradoodle who is incredibly friendly and always down for sofa pets.
**Why I'm leaving**
My fiancee lives in Philly, and my work only requires me be in person Tue-Thu. So I'm only in town for at max two nights a week. The apartment is great, but I was never there. So moving somewhere that's more a *bed and nothing else*
Facebook marketplace listing here with pics. Happy to send pics to anyone interested.
https://www.facebook.com/marketplace/item/405835965692407

You have to believe that if you are to take anything away from this. I am not crazy. Never have been. Every great genius, I believe, says it at some point before others come to realize it for themselves. I am not crazy. All this happened, more or less.
I first saw the woman. Her eyes melted into tar, turned to smoke, and, as soot, fell on the ground as a shadow. Then came the after-effect woosh of a blade through air. Then the echo of fine steel turned tuning-fork. Somewhere along there I realized I’d forgotten to run. So I did.
A step, another step. Step and then step. After a few of those, I looked up to get a sense of what was going around. The town was burning. There came the bone-tremor of a church bell crashing down from far too high. A grain silo exploded. The seeds burst out in a cloud of smoke and then came the ignition. I pictured the grandest 4th of July I’d ever seen and imagined the fireworks, not a kilometer, but 50 yards from my face. I then realized I wasn’t imagining jack shit.
I ducked into a building as an autumn-leaf-wind of fire rushed down the street in a tidal wave. There appeared a door behind me where there had been none and then a dozen hands where there’d been maybe seven. I was dragged under the floorboards by the digging of nails then claws then teeth.
‘Say it tickles’, came a whisper by my right ear. Some old hag shouted from my left: “Lying bitch! “. “Don’t listen to her, sweetie”, replied the woman-floorboard-voice, “Say it tickles. Just trust me, they’ll let you go. I’m not her, never like her. I won’t hurt you. I wouldn’t hurt a fly” . The hag bellowed a laugh: “Lying bitch bitch bitch bitch… “.
I’d like to say I found it surprising that two shrill voices arguing was more irritating than being eaten by a house but I don’t think anyone who’s ever witnessed a proper cat-fight would believe me. Before I could take a splinter from the boards and end myself came the tickle of a feather upon my feet. It turned into rope, rope into spider web and before long I was being dragged away in the darkness.
There was this beam of light and I found myself settled down on a bed of straw. I had a moment or two to catch my breath too. I thanked the spider like so many citizens of New York before me and it gave a quick nod as it disappeared between the brick side of the house-turned barn. I almost had another moment then. But the bricks parted once again and came crashing out the boot I’d left behind. The spider web turned into a nose and then into a mouth that shouted: “Disgusting!”.
Shut the fuck up Jim. Jimbo. Whatever you call yourself. Sorry. People are loud around here before pill time and I got me a temper. I can’t just shout at some old dude so I gotta type it out. Hope you don’t mind. Back on the trakata track.
Feeling pretty ashamed, I got back on the way. Way? I know less than you do. No way. I just kept walking. The embers of the town soon started thinning around and I found myself shivering in my summer clothes. I don’t know why but I got to walking in the shade and, soon enough, I didn’t feel so cold any more.
I paused with a finger in the air and set my back against a tree. I tried my best to just take a deep breath and relax despite its bark that kept trying to give me a back-rub. I thought for a moment about, not it all, but pretty much nothing at all. And God knows those are the only times you think anything. I realized the sun was cold.
I played my fingers through the beams of light passing through the canopy and held them out over the path. A numbness settled on them in less than a minute so I pulled them back
I looked back at the town then. I saw the strange reflections the non-metal-metal roof-tiles cast back at that sun. I saw how all the buildings were sunken into the ground. I saw that I didn’t see a single window anywhere.
Finally, I saw something hanging from the cathedral’s spire, some half-kilometer high. It was frozen and a cross and on it, as with some crosses, was a man. I raised an arm and saluted myself. Then I realized I’d saluted myself. And then so did I and then I realized that I had that I had and then I realized.
At some point along those lines, I noticed that my mind had come unbound and was bouncing between my two selves. Cloudy, cloudy and cold cold cold memories were in my Jesus-self’s mind. Black holes, revelations, origins of symmetry I don’t fucking know. And somewhere, distant and distant as stars, the memory of the very moment we were living.
I saw then a man like me. He looked like you and he looked like me but somehow he did not feel the same. Always over my shoulder, looking over what I did. Always lurking at the edge, a hunger-unending. One thought, just one in its head. To be me. To be me. To be me. To come out into the light. That was the first time I met my shadow.
I didn’t cause I couldn’t but I saw it smile. Him? I don’t know if he would be mad if he heard me speaking of him like this. Him him him him. Him to the weekend. Cold fucking play man. Bio-digital jazz, man. I don’t know. I don’t know. Honestly, don’t really care. Haven’t seen him in a while. The lights in my room come from everywhere and the walls are all white so I don’t sleep which is when he finds me. I don’t care. Back to the memory.
Then I blinked and the cathedral was gone some miles away and then I blinked and it was gone all the way. I blinked. The forest had given way to jagged hills. I blinked. Still jagged hills. I blinked. Mountains to the West. I blinked. Mountains to the West. I blinked x11. Mountains to the East. Teleportation was lamer than I’d expected.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahikHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Sorry sorry. Don’t you also ever get the urge to just tweak the fuck out sometimes? Youre in class and you realize: “Dude, I could literally molest Ms Robinson rn before anyone had any chance to stop me”. Those thoughts are invariably dangerous but your mind thinks them anyway. Assuming that your mind likes itself, what reason can there be for their existence other than that they are good then? Anyway, excuse the digression.
So I kept doing this for a while. I don’t know if my body experienced time. No, scratch that. I know it did but I don’t know how. I had a beard grow for a few dozen eye-blinks but then it was gone. I felt a finger-nail, finger-long, scrape against my leg but a few blinks later I was missing that arm from the elbow down.
I was pretty determined to keep on doing this. I think everyone knows the feeling. When you’re a little kid and you close your eyes and you pretend to be blind for a few hours, for a little bit of fun? But then I saw the village again. I’d been going for so long that I didn’t really notice it at first but then I saw it again. And then again. I think it was my 7th time around this world that I finally got a hold of myself.
Honestly, I’d thought about this ever since I saw that scp thing. I slowly closed one eye and then another and then another. Voila! Blinking was no more. Tis but a fool’s imitation of blindness anyway. (I’ve realized similar things about sleep too).
I stepped onto the town square of cobblestone of hexagons. Inside the hexagons were triangles and between those stardust. I stared deep into those cracks and realized I was looking through. I moved back and forth and noticed the parallax of the night sky but awry. Before I knew, the floor became a wall and I was falling.
I was lucky that I had been lying down close to the ground. My chin began scraping against the stones as I fell. Then I started to spin back. I grabbed a stone but it came loose and laughed at me a toothless laugh of rock. As I spun, the sky that was a wall became a wall sky and the sky-through-floor just a floor. The gravity changed at points.
The eastern horizon blurred to a disk of sundown glow and the West a twilight lantern. I was spinning so fast I began to hear the woosh of my body cutting through air. Woosh-Woosh-Woosh-Woosh.
I felt myself pass through something. It was a neck. In my wake, I saw a woman melt into night-stuff. I tapped against my chest so my woosh became a metal clang. That finally got myself to start running. I was in a slower type of time than I was right then so I didn’t hear myself say: “Go beyond the church” but I knew I must have because I told myself and then I did, had?
Up turns to down, down to up. Life to dust and metal to rust. I understood, some time in the future that gravity in this land was a matter of taste. I must have sent back that information but time doesn’t really exist when your existence is independent from it, does it now? As I was destined, as I came to know, I had always known and just not known that I’d known. That distinction doesn’t seem legitime to me either but hey, go take it up with the authorities. God knows I tried. I calmed myself and before too long touched down ground back at the hexagon-triangle-square.
I plucked one stone and then another. At first I could only see a few stars but my eyesight grew keener and keener as the wind from across the cobblestone filled my mind. Soon enough, I could see in every stone I unplugged, a million, million stars waiting for me. High up above, I could clearly see, my soul looking back down at me. He smiled reassuringly. He took me by the hand and took me to the beginning of all time.
I saw God then. What do you do when you know everything, when you are everything? I saw then the loneliest man there ever was. All he could do, all he knew he would do would be lesser than him. No one would keep him company. I saw a good that had no reason to be. And so, he became the reason for everything. And then there was light.
I saw then the part of my soul that ran away from the brilliance of that good. That would not, could not, believe itself to be worthy of such love. A part of my soul ran away and, cast in its own shadow, became the root of all shadow-things. I watched myself become satan.
I was back at the clearing. I saw then the summer sun shining down, burning my skin. It was cold. I passed my hand in front of my eyes and saw my shadow brush its fingers against my face. I saw myself then, again. I saw a shadow touch a shadow’s hand.
Bout all I can for the day. Ever since Ethan tried to kill himself with the keyboard they’ve been little bitches about us using the computers. Of course I could tell them it was really the keyboard who started it but Ethan’s depressed so anything he does has to be about his mental condition so they won’t believe me.
But don’t worry. As I said, I am a genius. I know things no one else knows and I can prove it. Feel free to ask about your future and I’ll tell you what I’ll feel like the next time the doctors let me out of their sight. Go long on copper futures.

When I was in junior high a transfer student arrived in the middle of the semester; a kid that was different from everyone else. Right away he had caught my eye, in fact he caught everyone's attention because he had a very unique disability; he couldn’t speak. I guess you could say he was deaf, though it was clear to me after getting to know him that he could in fact hear; every word spoken to him was understood with simple nods or gestures; facial expressions contorting into understood language; so I guess he was mute; yeah, that would describe him best. He was an oddity to most but to me he was a unicorn, something that sparkled in our dim monotonous lives and it wasn’t until he revealed who he was did I become terrified of him and his shine.
I was in 7th grade maneuvering my way through the jungle of middle school, avoiding trouble and premature violence. I was an undersized boy for my age, no more than 5ft tall; puberty had yet to visit me leaving me left out of the herd; the other students or the ‘sheep’ as I called them that infested my school. They were all the same, kids that were driven by hormones constantly talking about boys or girls, their deep voices riding on the coattails of the wind that breezed in and out of our hallways. I was a mere shadow, always walking a few paces behind the others not wanting to be seen or acknowledged; I saw what others that looked like me went through, they were tortured and abused for simply existing.
Once Bryce Ellis and his friends stuck Timmy Easton’s face in the shitter for over 10 flushes, I was in a stall over, hiding and waiting for the torment to be over. I slithered my feet up on to the stall caressing them to my chest as I sat in a fetal position horrified of how one human could treat another. Eventually the bullies had gotten bored, their short attention span driven minds directed them to another endeavor leaving Timmy to fester in his tears and possible filth.
He sobbed for minutes that felt like hours as I remained silent in the stall over, I placed my hand cautiously on the barrier wall trying to absorb a bit of his pain, my heart ached for him in that moment and I wanted to lend him a compassionate hand if only I had the courage to do so. So yeah, I did my best to stay hidden, unseen to all the dwellers that mindlessly walked in and out of our school on a daily basis, the boys that believed themselves to be men or the girls that pontificated to anyone that listened. I was lost into an enteral sea of vindictive young adults that searched for any reason to lash out at anyone that stood in their way.
So when ‘Tape boy’ — as they would eventually call him — came to my little middle school that stood still in the secluded hills of our small town I was enthralled almost immediately with his existence. He was introduced to my home room class, I sat in the back burying my head into my arms, occasionally lifting my head to listen on the days lecture. My day dreams entertaining me as the clock slowly ticked away at our lives and it wasn’t until my teacher promptly stopped talking did it trigger a primal emotion in me to sit up and pay attention. I postured myself up straight, pausing the internal movie that played in my mind to see what the interruption was about.
There he was, a new boy that no one had ever seen before, by middle school everyone knew each other; we had went to the same elementary school, the same holiday events and grocery stores. So getting a new student was like getting a new flavor at Baskin Robbins; a mystery taste simmering on the tip of your tongue as you digested every drop, his presence was intriguing. He wasn’t small like me, I would say average height for a 12 year old; about 5'4, slender body with unkempt dark black hair. He looked timid, his head tilted towards the ground not wanting to accidentally lock eyes with any of us as the teacher introduced him, my mind wandering with such intrigue because to all of our astonishment he was wearing a surgical face mask — mind you this was in the 90’s; eons before the Covid pandemic breached the windows of our thoughts.
Right away I could hear the murmurs, the questions erupting throughout the classroom as everyone pondered of why this boy sheltered his face. I stared on for what must of been minutes as the shy boy kept his gaze down, I could see him slightly squeezing the arm straps to his backpack nervously the longer he stood there on full display for all.
I had my fill and I relaxed my postured sinking back into my chair directing my stare out the window but then Billy Sherman asked the question we all had on our minds,
“Uhm, why is he wearing that mask?”.
Our teacher explained to us that it was because of some weaken immune system, something about how his ticker didn’t click like the rest of ours, she then also told us about him being mute. This drew my eyes right back to him, I think it did for all of us and for a moment the quiet kid raised his head and locked eyes with me. His dark black eyes glistened with despair, the deep purple bags that sagged under his eyes were more indicative of someone that hadn’t slept in days. I felt something for him in that moment, our third eye conversing in some cosmic dialogue and as quickly as he rose his head did it drop once again towards the ground. I could still hear all the the other kids snickering, questioning and some even giggling; it made me sick, if I was a braver boy I would of stood on top of my desk and verbally lashed out to all the sheep, instead I rose my hand asking something Mrs. Willis never said, what was the timid boys name?
“Oh I’m sorry, how rude of me, this is Gabriel”.
She sat Gabriel upfront next to her desk, wanting him close in case he needed to write or sign something to her and just like that everyone went back to their simple lives; including myself.
The next few weeks I saw little of Gabriel other than the back of his head during class, once the bell rang everyone that my eyes glimpsed at for the day disappeared or just maybe it was me who dissolved into the ambience of our school. Either way I saw little of the boy who wore a mask, the one that sheltered his true identity and my curiosity with the new flavor of the week gradually faded into the abyss of non-existence; well, that was until the day I saw the mask slip.
It was end of the day, I spent most of the time turning corners anytime Bryce Ellis approached; evading the wrath of him and his band of merry men who were the pinnacle of human torture; finding any opportunity to demean those who crossed their path. I remember leaving Chemistry class, my mind all to occupied with leaving the hell hole of every kids dread and that’s when I saw Gabriel walking down the hall towards the cafeteria; his head still tilted down; his gaze tracking every step he took; face mask still tightly fitted around his face.
This time I saw someone was following him, it was Tom Ingram one of Bryce’s guys, a kid that tried to be the “alpha male” of the group numerous times, doing his best to dethrone the reign of Bryce. He was a big boy for his age, probably about 5'9 and easily weighed 200 pounds, he was a wild card alright; he got caught pouring sugar down Mr. Whitakers old Pontiac gas tank for giving him a poor grade. So when I saw him berating poor Gabriel; taunting him as grotesque laughter followed every insult, I felt like I had to do something and my consistent stealth veneer of camouflage morphed into into a full on sprint towards the two. I saw Tom was closing in on him, other kids looking on with bewilderment on their faces — not knowing if they should laugh out of fear or grimace from disgust. For the first time in a long while did a burning sensation of courage ignite in my soul, I was tired of seeing monsters preying on the sheep and I was going to stop it somehow.
Finally Gabriel had stopped walking and stood still, his head hanging even lower than before, the strands of his long hair covered the remainder of his face. Tom began slapping the top side of the poor kids head, yelling out obscenities, angered that he didn’t stop sooner. I was close, I was gonna stop this since all anyone else could do is cower in fear while looking on and then it happened causing me to stop dead in my tracks, my eyes widening with befuddlement. Tom had torn away the mask from Gabriel's face, awes with groans came from everyone then silence blanketed the entire school and for those few seconds our existence had been swallowed up by the earth itself.
“What the hell” Tom yelped out breaking the still but heavy disquietude.
I wanted to say something, but no words could be manifested only gurgles as I choked on my own disbelief. The timid boy under the mask of intrigue had a strip of black duct tape covering his mouth, it stretching from the side of his face to the other almost resembling what would be some hideous smile. The timid boy then collapsed his hands over his face as faint muffles of sobbing protruded from him, he ran into the nearest restroom only for Tom to pursue. Finally my thoughts had been gathered while my body came back to life, I brushed off the bizarre occurrence of that grizzly smile and I reminded myself of what was about to happen. Tom was going to punish Gabriel for simply existing as he and his gang have been doing for years and like some old factory machine the cogs of my body set into motion as I ran towards the restroom.
Before I could open the door the most horrid scream exploded outwards into the hallway, the sound sending a cold shiver down my spine and Tom came running out of the restroom gripping at his face crying. He was hysterical running and bumping into the walls until finally crumbling onto the floor only to continue sobbing. My mind was clouded with a whirl wind of confusion, I no longer knew what to do, I mean I was going to run in there and stop the assault but now the assaulter was on the floor destroyed. Then Gabriel calmly came out of the restroom, his mask firmly back on and he turned to look at me, his dark eyes burning an image of anguish into my mind. I asked if he was okay of course he said nothing though, he didn’t need to I could just sense his response and it was one of gratitude. I almost could see him smiling at me from underneath the mask and I reminded myself of what was under it; that abysmal duct tape that looked like a sinister grin.
From that day on most of the kids were afraid of Gabriel, I could see the look of terror in their eyes anytime he passed by them even though his headed was still shifted downwards but that’s the day whenever someone mentioned him they referred to him as “Tape boy”. I had heard through the whispers of our school that Tom had suffered some mental breakdown, that the doctors couldn’t find anything psychically wrong with him, it was as if his mind had shattered. He remained in some mental hospital, memories of him gradually fading and the sheep went on with living their mundane lives. Bryce even slowed his bullying, I think he knew that their were now more eyes watching everyone after the altercation and he didn’t want to get caught in some bad situation, though I could see he was itching to get at Gabriel. I went back to being a shadow, avoiding all the others still not too confident that the days of torture were over.
Even though Gabriel was regarded as some magical or perhaps malevolent being by most; not sure which one; he still appeared to be sad; lonely, his head always dragging with despondency. I made an effort in getting to know him, I wasn’t afraid like the rest of them something about the day we locked eyes gave me the resolve to understand he wouldn’t hurt me. I approached him during lunch break, he was outside sitting underneath a tree, the shade showering him a gloom of haze. I think I surprised him or maybe it was just my stealth nature but I saw him jump when I sat next to him. I began talking about the origins of Darth Vader, of how he was originally a hero using his force power for good only to eventually turn to the dark side.
Gabriel just looked at me confounded of why I was even talking to him, his stare looking on with indifference. I told him that he was like a super hero, doing whatever he did to Tom was just like a super power, that I was thankful. His gazed then returned back to the floor almost out of shame, I guess whatever he did that day he didn’t see it as something special, or something to praise. I then told him that I still envied his ability to defend himself, that having such an ability was better than winning the school lottery — which was a week supply of free cafeteria food. I kept blabbering on for the remainder of the break while he still postured his stare towards the floor until the bell had finally rung. Before getting up I told him that if I could have a super power mine would be invisibility that’s when he turned to me pulling out a small spiral from his back pack writing something down, he then showed me.
“Why?” it read.
I told him that I didn’t like being seen, that if I could I would melt away into the noise, then life would be better he just stared at me with what I could assume was disbelief. He didn’t write anything back, he just remain seated while I stood to my feet. I asked if he was coming back to class but he ignored me and just stared out into space presumably lost in his own thoughts.
For the next several months I would catch Gabriel in the hallways, talk to him about the latest edition of whatever comic I was reading, Superman being my favorite and I would go on and on about how his true super power wasn’t strength but hope. I think he became more comfortable with me, pulling out his spiral notebook to write down his thoughts; his questions and answers — a new gateway of communication had formed between us. Most times I could tell what he was going to write by looking at his eyes, those dark haunting eyes, he was a mysterious book slowly being revealed to me and I was completely beguiled by his friendship. Bryce and his little posse slowly went back to bullying the sheep, though they kept their distance from Gabriel and me.
I guess I had a new protector one that wouldn’t be crossed and something about that protection left me feeling proud. I knew in my heart that the timid kid that now went by “Tape boy” wouldn’t hurt a fly that maybe the day of Tom going crazy was all by chance, perhaps his rage snapped his mind. I tried asking him about that day numerous times but he never explained what happened he would redirect the conversation back to super hero’s. I would walk home with him on certain days, well, more like he would walk me home I never got to see where he lived, he was too reserved to give up that kind of information but the days we would walk together was always fun. I finally felt like I belonged, the longing emotion of needing acceptance was found by his friendship.
One day when I was walking home by myself I decided to stop in at the gas station to pick up a drink and scour the latest edition of comic books in the small rack of magazines. Before entering the store I could hear arguing voices engaging in combative dialogue and it became vividly clear that it was more of a yelling match than conversation. It was coming from the side of the building, most times I would just ignore it but one of the voices sounded all too familiar and I crept slowly to the edge of the building poking my head out to get a glimpse of the disturbance. It was Bryce, his back was up against the wall while someone who I presumed was his father berated him with such a vicious snarl on his face. The angry man kept slapping Bryce across the face anytime he tried to say something and soon tears began drizzling off the face of the mighty bully only for the man to laugh.
I didn’t know why the older man was treating Bryce the way he was, information cut out of my understanding, for all I know it could of been because of something the bully did at school. I found it to be poetic justice that the boy that caused so much heart ache suffered the same amount only at home. It felt like a cliche, the angry kid was angry because of the angry father; a cruel loop of never ending proportions. Eventually the man or father walked away getting back into his car leaving the bully to brush away the tears from his face. I cautiously retreated my head away deciding to ditch the store completely when that same broken voice only minutes ago shouted out to me with a hefty dominance.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bryce howled out.
I didn’t bother turning around, I just ran home, dodging into alley ways trying my best to not been seen. It didn’t appear as if he was following, but seeing him in such a vulnerable state was bemusing. We were a small town how could I not know who the man was, we all knew each other since we were small and then it hit me; Bryce’s dad had left when he was little. This man must of been his step dad or perhaps mom’s boyfriend, it didn’t matter I was going to mind my own business, I was going to slither back into the shadows; but my attempts would only fall on defeated shoulders.
I didn’t want to tell anyone of what I saw, I hoped that keeping my mouth shut would of been enough for the bully to leave me be. Unfortunately there is no reasoning when it comes to human beings, we base our actions on emotions, our anger and Bryce confronted me the next morning in front of Gabriel.
“Hey fairy, did you enjoy the show?” the angry kid spouted out at me.
I tried explaining to him that I wasn’t trying to intrude, that the arguing concerned me, that I didn’t like seeing him being mistreated and then he punched me right in the gut. I fell to the floor gripping at my stomach, the pain slicing through every fiber of my body. I tried catching my breath but inhaling was too painful and I sheltered my face expecting another punch but the bully walked off leaving me to sweat. Gabriel kneel down to me taking out his spiral notebook writing the obvious question, I gestured to him to give me a moment and I honestly felt like crying. I had spent years doing my best to blend into the background, the invisibility power I was so desperate to have amongst the sheep was now gone; I was on Bryce’s radar.
For the remainder of the school year I tried avoiding the bullies, the monsters that preyed on the sheep but their leader would actively search for me, he was no longer intimidated by Gabriel; his once menacing allure had dwindled and now we both were sitting ducks. Luckily there was only a few weeks left until summer break and I only had hoped that the time off would be enough for the monster of monsters to cool off.
Entering summer was a relief much needed for my sanity, I took a few thrashings but it was over, me and Gabriel had big plans on spending time together. He wasn’t an out door kind of kid, he usually would just come over my place and we would read my comic books. He quickly grew enchanted with the idea of super hero's, their powers restoring balance to the nature of our world. I enjoyed every minute of it, my parents on the other hand looked less jovial to our friendship, they didn’t like the mask; it worried them. They thought that whatever illness he had could be passed on to me, but they didn’t do anything to stop us from seeing each other, they only silently protested.
So after awhile we decided to meet somewhere outdoors, away from my parents judgmental stares, there was a creek close to my house, the trees giving us enough shade to stay cool on those long summer days. The small stream that flowed through the trenches of the creek enriched our view as we would find the perfect rock to perch on while reading our comics. We didn’t see much of any of the other classmates that summer, the sheep kept their distance or maybe it was just us, but the days seem to pass quickly and before we knew it summer was coming to an end. I couldn’t remember how many volumes we must of read but Gabriel was now a fan of almost every super hero. He tend to raise out his arms while walking, mimicking the premise of flying like Superman; his ponderous eyes cutting through the brush as we escaped our secluded summer spot.
It was on the final day of our summer break did I pressure the shy timid boy to explain to me what had happen that day, the day Tom lost his marbles, I needed to know. Gabriel as always tried redirecting the conversation, holding up a comic of Batman, pointing at some dialogue. I got upset, I raised my voice telling him that if we were friends then he should tell me, that there wasn’t secrets between us. His heavy eyes collapsing to the ground, shifting his posture on the rock that we both sat on.
“Look, I just need to know, you’re my best friend” I told him with genuine longing.
The school year was about to start up again and I could already envision a future of slithering through the hallways how I have always done, but with Gabriel maybe that could change. I needed to know and I was done guessing, fantasizing that he was some super hero or at least my hero; my protector. I stood up off the rock walking over to the stream, the sound of water colliding unto the small stones that infested the trench triggered something awful in my gut. I took a deep breath and made my final stand with my best friend.
“If you don’t want to tell me then I’m going home, see ya” I said with impatience dripping off of my words.
Gabriel ignored my warning and continued pointing at the comic book, that’s when I noticed what he was pointing at, it wasn’t dialogue it was one of Batman's villains — he was pointing at Clayface. This made me stop, my minding halting after speeding at 100 miles per hour; it crashing my thoughts.
“Yeah, what about Clayface?” I curiously asked with a withered and tired voice.
That’s when his pointer finger was no longer on the page but rather it was pointed towards his mouth; the mouth that was hidden behind his mask. He could see my face drop with sadness, whatever disfigurement he had underneath that horrid black duct tape must of been something like the villain from the comic and my heart broke for him. Gabriel’s eyes gleaming with absolute sorrow, the boy that only wanted to be left alone, the person all the others feared just wanted solitude and here I was badgering him to no end about something so insignificant. We stared at each other for several seconds, our eyes meeting in some altered state and I reached my hand up to his face tenderly taking off his mask. There it was, the black duct tape that resembled a grin, a nightmarish one that could only been seen in some horror movie. I then placed my fingers on the edge of the tape, my cold grip causing him to shiver and I slowly began to remove it.
“What the hell are you fairy’s doing?” a voice called out from the brush, one that sank my heart into my stomach.
I turned trying to locate the voice and sure enough there he was, the bully that had tortured so many for so many years — it was Bryce. His body slowly revealing itself from the brush like some despicable ooze frothing from the depths of hell. Though, something about him was different, his cold stare no longer fictitious but more intimidating and as his body fully emerged did I see the blood trickling down his soaked stain shirt. He was covered in the crimson fluid, there was even some on his cheeks almost as he had some open wound and smeared the remnants of it on his face. The devilish grin that bestowed his bruised and beaten face quickly led me to a conclusion; one that I wish I didn’t conclude. A purplish black infested the out layer of his left eye, it practically closed shut and his nose had been bent to a unsightly angle. I started to whimper as my lips trembled from fright because this Bryce was not the same one that had given us wedgies or swirlies this one was a true monster, a beast that devoured souls. His gaze was enough to display a vacancy of any humanity and my eyes crawled down his arm into his hand to see the black pistol that he firmly gripped.
“Uh, Bryce what happened? Are you okay?” I groaned out while sniffling.
He didn’t answer, he just kept grinning at me, the ghastly smile that stretched ear from ear plagued my vision and I knew that he had done it, that he had hurt someone badly. I was terrified and in the moment I had completely forgotten about Gabriel, my tunnel vision only focused on that firearm.
“Where the hell did the other one go?” the monster asked, I turned and realized Gabriel in fact had run away leaving me behind.
I wanted to run, I wanted to flee while screaming but horror kept me in place and I felt like some dear trapped in headlights contemplating my entire life in mere seconds.
“Everyone always messes with me!” Bryce yelled out with such ferociousness.
There was no talking my way out of this one, no pleading, I knew in that moment he was going to kill me; his rage over flowing to the point of lunacy. He quickly pounced dropping me to the floor, screaming with madness and he repeatedly hit me over the head with the but of the gun causing me to see stars. His words became incoherent sounding like muffled tones that slushed it’s way into my hearing, I shook my head trying to collect myself, just maybe I could figure a way out of this but as soon as my vision corrected itself Bryce would strike me another time causing it to blur once again. I fell into a darkness, my world collapsing into an eternal void of loneliness as my body began to float effortlessly but as soon as I thought this was my final moments flashes of Gabriel flooded into my mind awakening me out of whatever slumber I found myself in. That’s when I realized Bryce was no longer hitting me, instead he was talking to someone and as I grabbed at my head trying to steady my balance I saw it was Gabriel standing still head as always tilted downwards.
Bryce confronted him pointing his 9mm directly at his head yelling, screaming at the top of his lungs but my best friend remained unmoved, just quiet and then he slowly removed his mask. This caused Bryce to pause, his tone weaken and I think for the first time he digested if he should proceed doing what he was doing.
“What are you doing freak?” the bully yelped out.
Gabriel remained quiet, eyes still directed towards the floor, his breathing escalating; I could see his chest pump more vigorously with each passing second. With the mask off me and Bryce could see the bewildering black duct tape strapped to his face, Gabriel’s face began to tremble violently as if he was trying to yell through the bondage. He then finally began to peel of the thick layer of black duct tape and it came off with a wicked screech as I could see my friends eyes squint with pain.
Bryce was no longer pointing the gun at Gabriel, no longer was he even saying a word his arm lowered to his side and both him and I stared on with amazement. What was under the tape was layers of skin, twisting and binding to each other like some thriving organism living it’s own life on Gabriel's face. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t say anything I was in shock and my head still throb from pain. Then Gabriel's mouth — if you want to call it that — began to stretch open, he tilted his head backwards while the mountain of dead flesh started to drip down his face allowing some endless void to open up inside of him. I could hear the cracking of bones breaking, his jaw shifting to accommodate the massive hole that was now his mouth and then horrid dwindling fingers began to protrude from the darkness.
My mouth gaped open with trepidation and if I had the ability to adjust my head I would think Bryce had the same facial expression. Then a grotesque head forced it’s way out of my friends mouth revealing a face that could only exist in the realms of the dead, this new creature having two large almond shape eyes; eyes that looked very similar to the ones that were attached to my friend. This ‘thing’ then stared at Bryce, that’s all it did, no words were spoken no violence was created it just stared at him and soon the bully grasped at his face and began to yell. He ran frantically in different directions, his gun firing out into the tree line, I jumped for cover; falling to the floor sheltering my head with my arms. Bryce’s terrified screams caused my stomach to turn and soon those dire cries stopped along with the gunshots.
I must of stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, too scared to rise to my feet and through my peripheral did I see the sun begin to set plunging the small creak into darkness. I eventually mustered up enough courage to get up and I looked around, Bryce was mere feet away from me, he lay still on the floor blood spewing out of his head; it appeared as if had shot himself. I walked over to his body befuddled of what to do I then remembered Gabriel, I turned to look for him but he was gone it was only me and Bryce's dead corpse. I ran home telling my parents about everything, of the encounter I experienced, at first it seemed as if they didn’t believe me but they still phoned for the police.
I led them to the creek to the bullies dead body, I initially thought perhaps they would blame me, connect me to his death but the police believed me; well the believed me about Bryce but not about Gabriel. They told me that Bryce had killed his step father, apparently they had gotten into some altercation and afterwards he went into his mothers bedroom and shot her to death. They told me that the once bully was a disturbed individual, suffering abuse for many years; that I was lucky to escape from his wrath. I told them that they needed to find my friend I wanted to know if he was okay, but all the officers could do was pat my back with sympathy trying to relax me.
It has almost been 30 years since the event, I still have nightmares of what had happened, I see the dead stare Bryce had while pointing his pistol at me, I see him repeatedly hitting me over the head again and again. Though, what still haunts me more is Gabriel's mouth contorting into that horrid shape revealing the creature that lived inside of him. He was never found, I’m pretty sure he moved on to another city, another place where bullies like Bryce tormented their schools and I could only imagine Gabriel was there to balance the wrongs of the world. I am scared of my best friend, but I know at the same time he is my protector; my super hero, he is out there doing good, I can feel it and I hope he can sense my love for him. Maybe we will never meet again, perhaps it’s not written in the stars for us to reunite but one thing is for sure, I get comic books mailed to me randomly every month; most are of Superman and I know exactly who they are from.

This feels so silly to vent about but I'm at a breaking point and can't talk anywhere else about this.
Many months ago I made the very poor mistake of looking outside just as an orange stray cat was in our yard, he began talking to me and it was a funny little moment. But then my mom wanted to see him and it all went down from there. She began feeding and giving water to all the stray cats outside, which of course brought tons of them around more. It seems sweet, and in some ways it is, but my problem from the beginning was that we have our own two cats that she has done nothing for in the past three years compared to the effort she's put towards these outside cats in the last few months. My brother and I take care of our cats, including making sure their fed and have litter. They're behind on their shots because neither of us can drive and mom won't, but since my brother's been working he began purchasing our cats their food and even got them a nice water fountain. One of our cats we adopted from a shelter so she was already fixed, the other was not and has yet to be fixed because our mother just... Hasn't. So right off the bat I was really upset she went head first into caring for the outside cats and not her own.
At the time I was in a telehealth therapy program and vented my frustrations in a group therapy session where the therapist pointed out that if she kept doing that, when the cats began getting pregnant, they'd bring their litters here. So from then on I was silently hoping they'd never get pregnant, wishful thinking on my part. I told my mom in the first month of her doing this that these outside cats were NOT my responsibility and I did not want to participate in helping them at all. I know I sound like a cruel person, and I am willing to accept that, but I didn't want to take on the responsibilities of more cats on top of the ones I already own. The problem only got worse when, one morning, I walked out to find my mom holding one of the stray cats in her arms in our house, walking her through before calmly putting her outside where mom informed me she let that cat specifically stay in her bedroom sometimes.
We live in arizona, in the desert, animals get fleas as soon as they step foot outside I swear to god. And immediately I didn't like having this outside cat in our house with our cats. I tried to talk with her about how I didn't feel comfortable having any outside cats in our (very small) trailer and would appreciate if she didn't do that anymore. I didn't yell or insult, I tried my best to sound mature and calm so she wouldn't react volatile-y, but she just brushed me off and said "she doesn't do it often". And from then on that cat was coming in and out of our house bi-daily.
Then that cat got pregnant. Just as my therapist said, she was always around. And one night she came inside and mom helped her give birth to a litter of kittens. I was so distressed, they were cute and I'm not a monster. They've been fun to help take care of, I check on them while my mom and brother are at work, I make sure they have food and water. They're now about two months old and I desperately want them out. We go through puppy pads faster than a smoker does a carton of cigarettes. Mom's begun buying them all kinds of toys and treats, a whole playpin for them and she continues to purchase more, or when she's low on money she asks my brother to buy the things she needs for the kittens. Animal shelters are out of the question, it's kitten season and they're all full. Her only "looking for help" has been a shitty facebook stray cat group of the area that has offered zero help at all, but she swears to god she's trying her best. I had to be the one to look into any animal rescues that could help us, and found one that could fix them and adopt them out as long as we foster them longer.
My problem comes from the fact she's still letting that outside cat in the house even after the kittens don't need her around. This has caused the kittens to continuously get fleas, we've given them like three different flea baths that do work until she lets the fucking mama cat in. I have tried everyway possible to say in as calm and respectful a manner as I can that we need to stop letting the cat in, she's giving the kittens fleas and on top of that putting our cats at risk. They've all been separated as much as possible, but the kittens keep trying to escape my mom's room and just a few days ago I had to chase a random stray out of our house because she wasn't paying attention and he got in sniffing for our un-fixed cat. She just doesn't care enough about what I have to say our anything other than her wants and I feel like I'm going crazy. Her most recent tactic to handling me bringing it up is to outright ignore me, just completely act like I didn't say anything and it's baffling me. I didn't want this responsibility but I have to help because she can't do it alone. She can't bend down to help the cats, she can't carry the heavy food bags, she can't even afford their food regularly and has to rely on my brother for most materials. I feel like it's unfair I have to help her with a responsibility I don't want, if she can't do it she shouldn't have taken it on, y'know? How is it fair we're expected to help her with something we didn't want to happen in the first place. I'm sick with stress and wake up every morning with my heart racing in my chest because on top of it was have a leak somewhere under our trailer and my mom's foot WENT THROUGH THE FLOOR. But we can't have it repaired yet because we have these fucking kittens. And when I said this she screamed at me for it, and I'm just done. Even when the kittens are gone I don't think she's going to stop letting this outside cat in, she got a fucking cat tree for her room for fucks sake. Our cats got a cat tree as a hand-me-down from my grandparents after their cat passed. She's done way more for these outside cats and kittens than she's ever done for our cats in the entirety we've owned them. I don't think it's that cats' fault, she's a really sweet cat and obviously we don't want her getting pregnant again. But she's too used to coming inside and spends most days in our house now. She's not even remotely potty trained and I've had to be the one to clean up her massive turds multiple times this past week. My mom clearly won't listen and I don't want to be the asshole that calls my grandparents to tell on her and make her even more mad (we rent our trailer from our grandparents-her parents, they know we're fostering a litter but I don't think they know about the mama cat being in the house daily). I'm currently unemployed and can't drive, I'm literally at the mercy of whatever the hell my mom decides to do and it's leaving me feel physically ill.
Sorry for this long nonsense about cats. I feel like I'm genuinely going crazy and don't know what to do. I hope to god this cat rescue I reached out to helps, but I don't know what to do about the mama cat. I want to cry and feel like I'm gonna be sick thinking about it all, but my mom won't listen and I cannot comprehend a way to get her to. No matter what I say or do she does what she wants and won't even pretend to consider what I've said. I can't leave, I can't ask for help, I'm stressed over a bunch of cats!! That sounds so stupid to me!! But I am!! And I just want this all to be over. I find myself mad at myself everyday for having ever pointed out that orange cat in our front yard, if I had just kept my mouth shut maybe I wouldn't be in this predicament. Idk. Sorry for the long post.

UV index is just linear: 0 means no UV, UV power at 2 is twice that at 1, etc.
Sunscreen SPF says how much passes through: SPF 50 means 2% of rays can pass.
Which makes UV index 12 while wearing SPF 50 the same thing as UV index 0.24 with no protection, which is basically harmless.
So why does common advice say we shouldn’t stay in the sun even with strong SPF? Is it only misapplication or breakdown after a few hours? Is it the small amount that goes through clothing?
Same problem with clothing. I have very sensitive skin and never burned through a cotton shirt, even on the rare days where I forgot protection and got a sunburn somewhere else. Some advice says “it’s dangerous because the worst cotton shirts have SPF 5!” But that still makes UVI 12 barely more damaging than UVI 2.
What gives? How dangerous is it really to go out in strong sun with protection?

How can I obtain a visa that would allow me to stay in Mongolia for a few months, ideally up to a year? My plan is to travel around, study some work related stuff, and relax from a few hectic years that I experienced somewhere else.

Hey guys I’m looking to create a hoodie for my brand and I am looking for reliable and trustworthy clothing manufacturers in JHB (Could be somewhere else tbh). This is my first time and I am really out of my depths here. This will be for the sampling phase of my project, I would also like to get a manufacturer that can work with smaller quantities as that is what will be appropriate at this point and time.
If you have any questions feel free to ask, and yeah any advice you wanna give would be appreciated…. :) smooches :) :)

ok so for context im a dutch person who is going in college .
story:
im at college right now and i dont know if im the jerk so im in my dorm and i live with dis girl she had a huge
her name is amy not her real name btw
crush on me im in math class shes there im somewhere else shes there shes literly spying me i u might think thats a coincidence but no i changed classes the next day she changes classes she gets the currage one day and tells me "heyyyy i like u wanna be my bf?" for context she has never even spoken to me so i say no and she goes off mad and crying but i told her no nicley i go back to my dorm at the end of the day im looking at my what app messages but then. i see a new message its a picture of me scrolling on youtube in my bed witch i had just dont i start to freak out and tell my roomate he says "maby we need to get blinds?" i agreed and we get it but some how the next day after college hours i go to watch videos on the my phone some one keeps spamming my phone with pictures of me in my dorm some how i start freaking out and tell dis to the school administration and the say i quote "mAbY uR rOOmAtE iS mESSinG wItH yOU"
i tell them that he was at the dorm when some one took the pictures they dont litsen so i get revenge i write who it is it writes guess...... i wrote amy? it said yes and i if i dont become her boyfriend she will swat me over and over i wanted to tell but she would know so i made a genuis idea in the mmiddle of the night i broke into the school administration service put printed images of what she texted me on the table the next day i think u can guess what happend yeahh she got banned from the college and i was free for the rest of the time i was there
ik its short but am i the jerk here?

Hi, my band played a show last night at a venue that used a QSC Touchmix 16. I had brought a USB stick for multitrack recording from the mixer (I have used it before for this purpose at this venue, so I know it's formatted correctly). The sound engineer left at the end of the night and apparently didn't stop the recording, and I didn't realize that when I pulled the USB stick out of the mixer 🤦‍♂️
The recording doesn't seem to be on the USB drive. I am wondering if anyone else has had this happen and if the recording might still exist somewhere (a cache on the mixer??) and possibly be recoverable. I couldn't find this info with a Google search, and I don't have a lot of hope, but I figured I would ask here just in case. Thanks for reading!