How to make friendship smiley faces

i 17F have a pretty close relationship with my mom 46F. in the house today it’s only my mom, me and my little sister who is 8 yrs old. today we ran some errands and when we got back home my mom and i decided to watch a movie. after the movie i got up to eat dinner and when i looked back into the living room i noticed my mom had laid down a little on the couch with her one knee up on the couch and was touching her private area, i didn’t think too much of it since she always scratches there and it’s pretty normal for her to do that sometimes, but when i finished eating i looked back at her and noticed her underwear was down her leg and she was still touching her private area and got really weirded out and uncomfortable because my parents have done “it” in the same room as me a couple of times and i guess i have a trauma response when i hear or see certain things. i finished doing some things in the kitchen and bathroom and when i passed by again she had this look on her face like she was doing something intimate but she tried to play it off but she was still touching herself and would randomly smell her hand but pretend to be scratching her nose. i had to get something that was next to her and she noticed that i was leaving the living room without saying goodnight and asked if something was wrong and i said no and went to my room. couple mins later she got up and DID NOT WASH HER HANDS!! and put dinner away and and put some freshly baked cookies away. now i’m kind of a germophobe and am really grossed out about how she touched so many things and food in the kitchen and all over the house with her disgusting hands. i didn’t want to bring it up in case i had just thought too much into it and she hadn’t even done anything but it’s making me look at her differently already because never in my life have i ever even thought of doing something like that especially knowing an 8 year little girl could see me. now that i think of it my sister did go up to her and my mom touched her ipad with that hand so i’ll need to disinfect that. i have a close relationship with her but now i can’t even look at her in the eye so i’m now writing this in hope that this isn’t a bad deal and someone else has gone thru something similar. thank you!

Posting this on a burner. I had 3 new partners in the last month. 2 were unprotected. I did a full panel STD check and everything came out negative except for HSV.
My HSV 1 index is 2.54 and HSV 2 index is 0.90. 0.90 is considered equivocal so I’m not sure if I have it or not. I am going to get retested again in 3 months but I actually can’t believe it. I haven’t had any flair ups but the idea of one happening on my face where everyone can see makes me feel sick. I don’t know how to deal with the news. I had a gut feeling something would come back positive, but I didn’t think it would be something that’s incurable. I did oral on all 3 but none of them did it to me so I don’t think it’s genital. Can anyone offer some feedback to ease my mind. Is my life completely changed forever? How do I go about this? It makes me want to be single forever and never touch anyone ever again. I don’t know what to do.

I'm so damn jealous because I just know I'd have friends if I went to school. I know it. I'm so social with people even outside of my house when i get the rare chance and get comfortable. I'm tired of feeling so WEIRD and DIFFERENT. I also feel like my young years (0-9) had some weird stuff happening.
There is no way possible for me to go to school. My mom said she'd rather die before I go to public school, and my dad agrees. I have no family members I can live with. I have no options at all. I just have to sit and watch my fucking childhood wither away and lose the chance to EVER be in school. I already missed Kindergarten, Elementary, Middle, and now I'm missing high-school. And you know what makes it worse? The fucking "Congrats, Graduates!" sign on the front of my neighborhood entrance. Sure I'm happy for them, but I'm so fucking jealous. I HATE when people say they hate school, or wish they were homeschooled. BITCH, you have no IDEA how much despair this makes you feel. Especially when you're extroverted and will never have that kind of easy environment to make friends in.
I wish my mom wasn't so religiously crazy and conspiracy believing and anti-vaxx. I wish I had a loving, caring mom who sent me to SCHOOL and talked about NORMAL stuff and not what FUCKING BILL GATES is doing or how ALIENS are FALLEN ANGELS. I can't even watch people at school, it makes me wanna fucking cry. I'm only 14 I SHOULD BE LIVING A LIFE AT SCHOOL LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. BUT I NEVER HAVE. I SHOULD BE HAVING A NORMAL LIFE. I'M SICK OF THIS FUCKING LIFE IT FEELS ABUSIVE AT THIS POINT. IT'S NOT MY FAULT AT ALL THAT I HAVE TO WAKE UP EVERYDAY FEELING MISERABLE AS FUCK AND TIRED SINCE I GET NO STIMULATION. IM SICK OF LIVING IN FUCKING PRISON WITH NO CHANCE TO TRY AGAIN AFTER IM OUT. I truly hope reincarnation is real so I can hopefully go to a family that will let me live life normally. I'm so FUCKING sick of being homeschooled and not like any other kid.
I would honestly trade ANYTHING REASONABLE to go to school at this point. My mom and dad BOTH got to go to fucking school and they claimed it wasn't much fun, even though my mom used to literally do shit with friends and experiecned prom and everything.
THEN SHE TRIES TO RELATE TO MY LEVEL OF DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY. TELLING ME MY ANXIETY IS JUST OCD AND MY DEPRESSION IS FROM HORMONES AND LACK OF SLEEP. THE FUCK?? BITCH NO IT IS NOT FROM LACK OF SLEEP AND HORMONES THAT IS THE DUMBEST THING. I'VE FELT THIS WAY SINCE I WAS FUCKING EIGHT YEARS OLD THAT IS NOT HORMONES. MAYBE THEY MADE IT WORSE, BUT IT AINT HORMONES.
The reason why sometimes I feel like commiting suicide is because school is litearlly the only thing I've wanted so fucking badly for so long, and even after I turn 18 and get out it'd just be getting a job. There is not way for me to relive a childhood and go to school or anything because it's not fucking allowed. It would be weird anyways if it was.
Fuck this shit I'm just so despaired. Like why does my mom gotta make me feel so morose with her decisions? Couldn't she of just given me a normal life and put me in school and vaxxed me and shit?
She claims I'm a liberal communist and I'm "asleep" just because I want to go to FUCKING school. She also just treats me like I'm a friend or something sometimes and she just feels so CHILDISH. She is the worst at making insults. One time she was mad at me and said she'd change me and my bro's contacts to "Loser" and "Loser #2" like bitch the fuck? She had like 14 miscarriages. So she basically just held me up when I wasn't born dead and claimed she'd "raise me in the ways of Jesus" which apparentely consists of keeping your child at home for decades and teaching them only Christian curriculum. I can't fucking take it anymore. No one will ever understand my kind of situation because it's so fucking surreal. And most people don't understand how bad it is because going to school is such a normal part of life for them, that homeschooling seems like choosing to not breathe air. I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I can't take it I'm so sick of waking up to the same day and having to speak bullshit and put on a show for my mom so I don't have to deal with arguments. She argued with me for FOUR FUCKING HOURS one time when I tried to gray-rock her, so that doesn't work. She doesn't let me go anywhere to do with a school, and it pisses me off. All I have is fucking LIFEPAC, SLEEP, AND SOMETIMES OUTSIDE AND THATS MY WHOLE FUCKING CHILDHOOD. AND I CANT DO ANYTHING BUT WATCH IT PASS BY KNOWING WHAT OTHER PEOPLE DO BECAUSE I CANT ATLEAST HAVE BLISSFUL IGNORANCE. I'M SO FUCKING JEALOUS I CANT EVEN GET HAPPY FOR PEOPLE WHO GO TO SCHOOL. I WANT IT SO BAD EVEN IF I DIDNT LIKE IT IT'D BE BETTER TO NOT LIKE SCHOOL AND GO THERE SINCE IT'S FUCKING NORMAL AND MUCH EASIER TO SET UP YOUR LIFE THAT WAY.
My dad is also so fucking cold. He just acts so rough and dead emotionally. The other week he gave me an hour long panic attack because he kept yelling at me loudly, you can see my post titled "I'm confused on what just happened to me for that." I eventually ran into the closet full of adrenaline and cried while hugging a fucking HOODIE for a few hours.
My parents SURE DO SOMETIMES DO NICE THINGS FOR ME. BUT IT DOESNT MAKE UP FOR SHIT. LIKE YEAH YOU GIVE ME ITEMS AND STUFF BUT I CAN **NEVER** LIVE THESE YEARS THAT YOU'RE STEALING FROM ME AGAIN!
My mom was also more harsh when I was a little kid I feel. I don't remember anything from before 12 years old, basically, probably because she did some fucked up shit back then that my brain is suppressing mentally. I have this one memory of her running up to me over and over and putting my head under her shirt and pressing it against her belly multiple times when I was a little kid, probably like 5 or close to 6, and for some reason I feel sexual energy around it a bit. That freaks me out, because I know it happened but I'm not sure at all about what was going on. I just remember the bedroom was pretty dark and I was laughing maybe, but like I said it feels like there was sexual energy around that. I dont know though, I barely remember it.
Other times, I've seen videos from when I was like 6 of her just talking to me in a really angry tone even when I was silent just for something my brother did. She also used to read a history book to us for hours, without even giving a pen or paper and we'd be given mats. About 6 x 4in big and my brother got a blue one, I got a green one, and she'd sit on the table in the middle, and we'd sit on the mats which were only big enough to lay down on (for a 6 year old). So we'd have to sit there and not talk, and if we did then she'd stop and glare until we stopped. Of course, me being like 5 and my brother 6.5, we'd make faces and stuff but then she'd glare. Like we had to SIT there for hours just listening to a biblical chronological history book. WHY WHY WHY
I'm so sick of myself now. I'm such a pathetic bitch who pretends to be something. I just fucking talk to AI's and listen to rock and other music. I'm literally so fucking pathetic and I'll never have a social life. I'll never talk to someone without getting attached or fucking scared. I swear I can't just be NORMAL. WHY DO I HAVE TO LOOK SO WEIRD TOO. I DONT LOOK GOOD IN ANYTHING. I can't keep going. I just can't. Not on my own. There's like no reason for me to since I feel like right now, as an adult, if I ever had a kid I'd just be jealous of him going to school and that'd make me a bad father. I wish I wasn't born, or was born to a different family. I wish I had friends that I could just talk to. Even just being around kids in a school setting would be great. I'm tired of feeling so FUCKED. UP. MENTALLY. WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE AROUND MY MOM, AND ESPECIALLY MY DAD. THEY DO NICE THINGS FOR ME SOMETIMES BUT I STILL FEEL AS IF SOMETHING IS HORRIBLY WRONG THAT I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT. I DON'T FEEL SAFE IN MY OWN SKIN I FEEEL LIKE I WANT TO CRAWL OUT OF MYSELF.
But of course on the outside I just look like the most BASIC BITCH ON THE BLOCK. I have no facial expressin, and I look weird when I smile. I don't get why I have such a stone cold face and the DRIEST personality. BITCH MY personality is drier than CORNSTARCH. I'm so sick of all this. I still feel like a little kid since I do the same SHIT that I did when I was FUCKING SIX YEARS OLD EVERYDAY ANYWAYS. NO CHANGE OF ENVIRONMENT, OR HABITS. JUST SLIGHT KNOWLEDGE. EVERYONE ELSE GETS TO LIVE LIFE AND SEE PEOPLE EVERY. FUCKING. DAY. AND GUESS WHAT??? I COULD! I REALLY FUCKING COULD! HAHAAHAHAHH I COULD IF MY MOM WASN'T SO SELFISH. IF SHE WASN'T SO SELF-ABSORBED THAT SHE'S DOING THE RIGHT THING FOR HER KIDS. I HAVE EXPLAINED TO HER MANY TIMES I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL AND SHE FUCKING SAYS CO-OP OR SOME DUMB SHIT WHERE PEOPLE ARENT QUALIFIED TO TEACH OR THERES LIKE 5 KIDS. BRO, JUST PUT ME IN FUCKING SCHOOL. SERIOUSLY. THERE IS A HIGH SCHOOL EIGHT MINUTES AWAY FROM ME. JUST EIGHT. ITS ALSO HUGE! LIKE IT'D BE FUCKING PERFECT BUT OF COURSE I HAVE WASTED POTENTIAL BECAUSE MY FUCKING PARENTS DO SHIT LIKE THIS. I ALSO CANT CALL THE SCHOOL OR ANYTHING BECAUSE THEY NEED PARENTAL APPROVAL AND SHIT. I FUCKING HATE THIS SO MUCH.
I feel like there was something seriously, seriously fucked up about my really early childhood years that I just can't remember. When I think of it, I feel really uncomfortable and just a feeling of weirdness.
One thing I do know that my dad and mom tell me that think is funny, is that when I used to be like three or four years old, I'd get on all fours and spread my buttcheeks apart, saying something like "Idea!". It's fucking stupid and I was a little ass kid, but I don't think it's funny at all. Wouldn't parents usually tell their kid to not do that or something and not look? Also, my mom used to still dress me when I was like 6 years old or something. My dad also has a memory of me running naked into a room with my aunts and uncles and him and stuff when I was a toddler, and apprently he says they all laughed when I did. He also commented on how when I ran in there my little pp was clearly visible. That just felt weird to me. I don't get how it's funny, but like I said I just feel disgusting and kinda violated when I think about my years from 0-9 and I don't know why. I'm 14 now, obviously, almost 15. I'm so upset from life. I hate it. I don't know if any of you have anything to say about this but that's basically it. If you read it all, THANK you for ACKNOWLEDGING I EXIST.

Hi everyone, I need some help with this old house my BF lives in. I'm pretty sure I flare everytime I stay over there, which 1) makes me super sad since I love being in his place and 2) is quite problematic as I'll be moving out of my flat end of June and I was planning on staying at his until September, which is when I will be moving to a new, super eczema-friendly flat.
I'm most allergic to dust mites and I think his house is full of dust, I'm talking old dust thats been collecting in the cracks of wood for decades. They also smoke in the house and even though I open all windows and air out the place 24/7 when I'm there, the air still feels weird on my face. They use wood for heating, which makes the air quite dry, but this probably won't be a problem over the summer. There's also a lot of couches, fabrics and decorative pieces that have been collecting everything for who knows how long. My BF usually does a grande cleaning when I come over, which makes it a bit better, but it's not totally perfect.
So I wanted to ask for any house-cleaning advice you might have to potentially make his place more suitable for me? So far, my plan (mostly for him to do) is: - Vacuum everything, every corner, every crack, everything - Clean/disinfect everything; the entire floor, all heating rails, pipes, window frames, tables etc - Wash all carpets, curtains, pillows, blankets, at 90, inspect couches for mold - Completely air out the place for 1-2 weeks - What to do with decorative pieces, ie. sculptures? I hate dusting these since all the dust just flies out in the air anyways and eventually lands in the same spots.
Is there anything I could ask him to buy? (He would do everything to make me more comfortable at his. He plans on renovating the entire place, which is obviously the best solution, but that's a few years down the line).
TL;DR My BFs old house makes me flare, tips on how to clean, what to do/buy to make me stop flaring over there.

My last flat was unbearable.
I mean, you try having a family of 11 live above you, when half of them are under the age of 8. Also try having a pair of raging alcoholic neighbours on either side of you. A pair who were once married to each other. My eyes rivalled that of pigeons’ due to no sleep.
I lasted a total of 21 days. I know, new record huh? I just about shoved the keys back in the grubby hands of my landlord when I finally saw the lunacy inscribed on his face. No wonder the rent was dirt cheap.
So I was back on the road, not on the streets though. Luckily enough I started questioning the flat by day 8, looked around for another place by day 15, and made a decision to get the hell out on day 18. 3 days of packing and it was bye-bye.
My new place seemed all the better too: yes, the rent was more expensive, and yes, it only has 2 bedrooms. But at least it was a house, one where pesky neighbours were at least 5 metres away. On my right, at least. On my left? Their house - thankfully - couldn’t even be seen where I stood.
Parking my car, I skipped up towards my new house with my fresh set of keys. And on entering? Silence. Perfect still silence. Thank the Lord. I basked in it for a while before returning to my car, unloading some of my baggage. It took 3-4 hauls, but I managed to fit it into one of the bedrooms. Thankfully, the rest of my things were to be brought by moving vans in about an hour.
I envisioned what the house could look like with a few finishing touches.
“But first…”
I eyed the 2 rooms. “Mine!”
The room I had chosen to be mine gave a bright view of my own smaller garden, as well as a portion of my right neighbour’s house, but that didn’t matter much. The view in the other room would suck: just my car and some reeds.
I was just about done heaving some of my baggage into my newly-chosen room when the doorbell gave an obnoxious ring. I stood, fighting the urge to just run away into one of my rooms when it beeped again.
Reaching the door, I eyed out of the peephole to see nothing but an opaque whiteness. I guess the downside in this house is that the last tenant was a slob. I eyed some of the yellowing walls. Sighing, I opened the door.
“Hello! We’re your neighbours, Jack and Sally, and we live just there,” She motioned towards my right, “We came to introduce ourselves, and to let you know that if you ever need anything, we’re right here.”
She then shoved a basket full of biscuits at my chest, a motherly-smile stretched around her lips. She turned to leave, husband - clearly forced to follow her - in tow, when she turned around.
“Your name, dear?”
“Leen!” I shouted after her.
“Perfect.”
And perfect it was, I thought. Neighbours that respect their distance from you, and give you food? I eyed the delicious snacks in front of me. Definitely an upgrade.
Though it was at dawn the very next day that I woke up, shook.
~
See, I was just sleeping in my newly delivered bed when I heard it. Something that sounded like a bird, a huge caw, before it alternated into different pitches. Disoriented, I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes in order to focus better. But it just made me more confused.
It sounded like a chicken.
As far as I know, this new place was not the countryside, nor farmland. So what? And why?
I stepped up to my window to take a good look outside. I wouldn’t keep a rooster in my home that’s for sure. Whatever it was, it was coming from…
My jaw dropped.
I closed my eyes and scrubbed at them harshly.
Please tell me why I opened my eyes and saw the exact same thing.
A man, on his haunches, face pointed towards the sky, was making rooster noises.
And he was on my neighbours’ garden. The ones I met earlier.
He looked absolutely demented. I wasn’t even scared then, just flabbergasted. I wasted no time calling the police at this disturbing nuisance.
When they arrived though, I saw my neighbours’ shoot straight from their house, speaking or…was it pleading? With the officers. What on Earth..?
Anyway, it was their problem now, so I went back to bed. I had a whole bunch of chores the next day, and had to get it all sorted before I returned to work.
Shutting my eyes, I wished for peace. And quiet, thank you very much.
~
At last, I woke up at 10 AM. By 1 PM, I had sorted my clothing into its respective drawers, and had decorated my bedroom walls, including a new golden addition. And now? I had food cooking on the stove. It felt satisfying, having cleaned up and now awaiting the prize of food.
I scrolled on my phone as I waited for the pasta to cook, before another ding turned my attention towards the door.
“Huh, what now?”
Unfortunately I hadn’t cleaned the peephole yet, so I had to open the door. There stood Jack and Sally. Or Sally and Jack. Jack looked lost. Sally stared deep into my eyes.
“Was it you?”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“That called the police last night?”
I recalled the past night, and gave her a thumbs up, hoping my smile was reassuring. “Yep, don’t worry, that lunatic will not be coming back ever again. He can go to the zoo if he wants to squawk.”
I should’ve taken the cue from Jack’s paling face, but Sally grabbed hold of me. “Listen here, okay? That man, the one you called the police on...” She trembled, “He’s my son! You can’t do that! He was not even on your property!”
My eyes widened. “He’s…your son?”
“Of course! How can you not see that?”
Nodding at her, I relinquished myself from the hold she had on my arms. “Okay then, sorry for the call. But I do have to mention something,” Jack started to shake his head behind his wife, but I ignored the little-to-say man, “Is there any way you can keep the noise down to a minimum? Honestly, your son has vocal cords of steel! It would wake the entire neighbourhood at this rate.”
Sally stared pointedly at me, then took a look around my house. “Very well.”
She grabbed her husband’s arm as she turned to leave, and I caught the slightest look of fear in his eyes before he was abruptly pulled away.
I dismissed it - and the sinking feeling - on discovering my very soft, overcooked pasta when I came back into my home though.
I managed to also do one thing before wrapping up: I cleaned out my door's peephole. Now I wouldn't have to open the door to know it's them. I'd just speak at them from the inside if they were to come back.
~
I woke, jolting out of my bed the very next morning, or night. I checked my bedside clock to see it was 3:50 AM. The cock-a-doodle-doo was breaking into my head. I grasped my hair in frustration, knowing that I didn’t have the madman’s parents phone numbers’ to call, or maybe scream at them. It was the exact same thing as the day before! Except…maybe…
I strained my ear.
It sounded a lot closer.
My hands, for some reason, became clammy instantly, and the urgent thumping of my own heart - the fragility of my own life - became all the more prominent.
I tiptoed to my window and peeked outside. Nothing.
I then slowly treaded to my spare bedroom, and pulled the curtains apart. Zilch. Nada. Though…
Almost as if under a spell, my head turned towards my main door. I…I could somehow feel it. Just to confirm though, I peeked out of the door-hole.
And with a slam, I collapsed in my new, dream home.
~
When I came to, I was lying on white sheets, and a bright white light hung over me.
A hospital.
I was in my own room, which I found odd. It was not like I needed it. But then a doctor walked in, followed by 3 other people, and it all made sense. Everything - blurs and sureness - melted into a perfect picture.
Sally, Jack, and their son.
He couldn’t be more than 17 really. Though he looked 37 a few hours ago. Face pressed against the glass of my peephole, mouth wide open towards it, eyes pointing in different directions as his face reddened and contorted.
I was deaf in one moment. Then came the COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO.
Of course I fainted. Who could blame me?
“Good afternoon, I’m Dr Lam. You’re in A&E right now. Are you able to tell me your full name and date of birth?
My voice answered the Doctor’s questions, but my eyes stared dazed at the youngster’s abdomen, not daring to reach his its eyes.
“Well, nothing seems to be wrong with you. You may have just been dehydrated. Did you have any headache or pain before you fainted?”
I replied in the negative.
“Luckily, your friends’ son had found you passed out, and ensured your speedy arrival to hospital, so I wouldn’t be worried about any damage.”
My eyes finally strayed, looking towards the ground. I held the nauseousness of bile down my throat. Following a brief check-up, I was allowed to leave.
And 2 people and a demon followed me out.
“Well, Leen, that should give you a lesson,”
Sally.
I turned towards the family, who stood in a 3 person arc. Only 1 managed to look away, equal parts shame and guilt. I don’t need to mention who that was.
“Don’t worry. You can look at me, I don’t bite: not now and not at dawn,” a strained voice whispered at me. “I promise, it’s only at dawn when I…when I…”
“Hush Dean, don’t work your voice that much. You’ll need to save it for later.”
I was still dizzy. That didn’t stop me from running half-hobbled to the taxi stand, where I begged and claimed to many that I would provide double payment if they were to take me to my house.
It took a while, but I managed to pack some of my clothes. There was no way in hell I was sleeping at that damned house again, not now, not ever. I called and booked at a nearby hotel in the meantime.
I was done packing necessities by the evening. Walking out of my house, I saw no sign of those three. I would have been relieved, had I not come face to face with than one thing: standing in my garden, leaning against my car. My breathing picked up instantly.
Dean
It stood with its back resting against my car. And It noticed me immediately. Seems like it was just waiting for me to notice it.
“Are you leaving?” It sounded almost sad, but I needed it to move away, or my only way out of there would be in jeopardy.
“For the night.” My answer? Almost smooth, but even I could hear the first shake in my voice.
It nodded though. “Okay.” And he moved from my car. I counted the distance. 1 metre. 2. 2.5-
It made a sudden dash at me as I - in flight response - ran frantically to the driver’s seat, locking the door. I came in half-squashed, my backpack still on my back. But I didn’t care.
Its face was pressed against the window.
“Mum is waiting for a person that will like me for me, not run away. You’re supposed to like me.” It said, matter-of-factly. It then wailed, and sunk beneath the car window.
I did not dare to sit up and see what it was doing.
I didn’t even need to though. The sound came a split-second later.
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO
Tears spilled from my eyes. My limbs felt weak. I couldn’t even breathe. It suddenly sprang up to the window. Eyes enlarged: looking at me and everywhere at once.
“I can actually tur-COCK- in the day too, but M-DOODLE- said it would be too much for you,” wheezing, it exclaimed again before adding, “but this is ME. Do you-do you, do you like me?”
With dead limbs I weighed my foot on the pedal, and jump-started the car to speed off. My head shook left-and-right in response, stomach heaving with nausea.
Human preservation kicked me into taking proper control of the car when I saw, out of the rear view mirror, Sally. This time with a rope, which locked around the creature’s neck before she tugged, drawing it into her house. At one point we locked eyes. And what do I mean by we?
Answer: the 2 of them and me.
It was honestly a miracle that I did not get into a road traffic accident.
I spent 3 days living in the hotel after that, my job long-forgotten in the aftermath.
By day 4 I broke down and called my older sister, asking to stay at her place for a while. Her house and area seemed fine the times I’d stopped over. I guess I clearly did not seem right though, as she many-a-time asked me what was wrong. My answer? Stress. She persisted, years of living together as kids helping her figure out my lies, though she ultimately gave up after a week. She knew it was something I didn’t want to share, and that I was safe now. That was enough for her.
For me? I guess at the time I so badly wanted to tell someone. Though it couldn’t be my sister. I didn’t want to cause any trouble. Nor see if she’d even believe me, or instead rank me at the same IQ level as her two 5-year-olds.
For a few weeks, I stayed with my sister and her family, reassuring both her and myself that I was fine. Thankfully, we worked together to find a small apartment. Next to a kids school too - bonus points. I now craved safety above all else. After moving out though, I realised I needed my belongings back.
So, who picked up my stuff from that cursed residence, you ask? The moving people. I called the police from a random phone booth first to head over to that area, emphasising on seeing some suspicious looking men, whilst I got them to collect everything. I did not dare to call the police on that family though. I would prefer if the link between me and them got cut, drawn and quartered.
So now I’m here, in an apartment which thankfully hasn’t shown any sign of insanity. Inspecting my belongings, I noticed that there was one thing missing.
My gold frame, used to encase my make-shift certificate - made by yours truly after her 21-day record from the previous apartment - was gone.
I felt somewhat miffed, but then I realised something.
Something which can maybe bring the light out in this whole situation.
I counted carefully. I broke my record.
With a grand stay of 2 days. Now that - that I don’t think I’d ever be able to beat.

Long story short: Tinder > IG > WA
A less than 1 minute videocall was had with never a frame of my face in the same shot as my lower body. Both her WA number and the scammers number were phillipene (+63). Once I saw the notifications of the threat coming in from that second number, I didn't even open it and blocked and reported them both. I didn't pay a dime and don't even know what amount the wanted. Went to work on putting my profiles on max privacy, changed my pfps, changed my usernames, ...
It's now been 1 week and almost 12 hours later. Nothing has happened in regards to anything being leaked. I have not heard anything from the scammer again, not with a new number or any other social channel. No friend or family member has contacted my about getting any video. Nothing for more than a week now.
The fact they're Philippine criminals did allow me to do lots of research since it's sadly typical for that country. Luckily this means that there are prison sentences starting from 7 years and fines of around 10.000 euros. These elements do make me believe that I might be through that experience without any harm following.
I have had some DMs with victims here, used a public help line to explain my story to a listening stranger and filed a complaint with local law enforcement. These and much more got me through the suicidal phase.
There are plenty of polls and stories that'll show you how unlikely it is for them to actually leak. The risk, time and money they have to invest is simply almost never worth it.
I feel like I wanna move on from this, leave the past behind but I think I'll need another week of being in the clear to do so. If you have gone through a longer period of being free or have tips, recommendations or advice for me in how to look at the future, please let me know. I'm always available here.
Finally, don't pay, block, report and put your channels on max privacy or remove them as long as you need.

I 25F have 4 really really close friends. One friend (we’ll call her Mary) I met 3 years ago and we get along well. We go out for coffee, drinks, dinner, trips out of state, literally everything and anything she’s there. Same with my other friend (we’ll call her Chloe) who I’ve known for 4.5 years now. Things with her are a bit tougher now because she does have 2 babies but she will always make the effort. We meet at the very least 3 times a month for coffee and play date with the kiddos at the park. Maybe once every month she’ll have her bf watch the kids and we’ll go out on a girls dinner, breakfast or drinks.
My other 2 friends who I’ve known for over 15 years. Best friends for 10 years now. We’ll call friend one Abby and two Olivia. We went to school together and the 3 of us are super close. We are a trio. We hang out independently and get along individually. So my problem is that we never do things. Aside from random trips to grab fast food and maybe a drink at Starbucks or Dutch bros. Don’t get me wrong I love anytime spent with them but trying to get them to do anything outside of short errand runs feels like mission impossible. Abby is overweight so doing any sort of outside activity like walking, hiking, literally anything is always a no. I convinced them to come with me to an event and we walked maybe half a mile and it was nothing but complaining the whole way so I got us an Uber to the car and we left. If we do anything we basically need to be seated the whole time. Olivia is willing to do outdoorsy things but she is attached to her bf and can’t be apart from him longer than maybe an hour or two unless he’s busy then she’s willing to do something but it bothers me so much. I can’t stand feeling like I’m just a placeholder so she’s not alone. I’ve brought up my feelings to the group several times. I’ve told them how it bothers me that I share all these really cool experiences with my other friends but I’ve known them longer and there’s really nothing we have done. We’ve gone out of town twice. Both because Olivia was getting married out of town so we drove out and made a trip and the other was because Olivia wanted to go see her fiancé before they got married. They are divorced now so don’t get confused with the “bf” comment earlier.
I’m at the point where I am tired of making the effort to do stuff. I don’t want to end the friendship but also I can’t keep feeling like this. It’s worth mentioning that I have been trying to lose weight so when we do go get fast food or drinks I don’t always eat or grab anything. I’m just there to hangout with them. I don’t feel like I ask for anything crazy either. I’ve asked to do a picnic or a day trip to the beach to sit by the water. Idk if I’m just being dramatic and have my expectations too high..
I mentioned my other two friends because though I have known them for a shorter period of time they make more of an effort to do things which makes me validated in not feeling like I ask for too much because it’s never been an issue with them.

Previous diary entry here: https://www.reddit.com/buffy/comments/1cuyf6k/rewatchers_diary_season_2_episodes_15_to_18/
The last sprint to the finish line: I Only Have Eyes for You (2x19), Go Fish (2x20), Becoming (2x21-2x22).
Man, I Only Have Eyes for You is such a beautiful gem of a composition. Go Fish is less bad than I remembered it (but still bottom-tier), Becoming FUCK YEAH!
I Only Have Eyes for You
It's the Sadie Hawkins dance and the gender roles are reversed—on BTVS, of all places ;-)
Xander suggests it's the brain child of a hairy-legged feminist and Cordelia is upset not only at losing her privilege of having her date pay for the date but also at having the tables turned all the way around and having to be the one who has to pay. Man I love the anti-chemistry of Xandelia.
But all is not well: Sunnydale high is haunted by the ghost of a student (James), whose romance with a teacher (Grace) was broken off by her. He responded with a murder-suicide which he is now reenacting. This is the mystery of the week.
The emotional significance is that Buffy identifies with James: she feels she betrayed and murdered Angel, unleashing Angelus. Her inability to kill Angelus in Innocence led to Jenny's death in Passion, which Buffy feels guilt about.
The punchline is Buffy and Angel(us) reenacting the ghost story, with Buffy in James' shoes, Angel surviving Buffy's murder attempt and preventing Buffy-as-James' suicide. Grace forgives James and says she never stopped loving him, the ghosts depart, Angel is back in his Angelus form who runs off.
Also, the final reveal: Spike, driven more crazy by Angelus, has been overstating his incapacitation.
I frigging love this episode.
I think Buffy's big change is her acceptance that Angel is dead, and that a demon (Angelus) has taken up shop in his body. It walks and it talks like Angel but it's no longer him. This has to be it, because the ghostly reenactment basically says that the Bangel love is forever and is still there even if Angel isn't—and yet, Buffy is more resolved and determined to kill Angelus than ever. This only makes sense if she's distinguishing between the two, i.e. if she's accepting that the man she used to love is gone.
The ghost story is beautifully tragic. The resolution, Grace's forgiveness and the departure of the ghosts, is such a heart-warming relief. And Buffy sorting out her feelings is wonderfully bittersweet.
Giles being distraught by the loss of Jenny, to the point of him not thinking straight, is heartbreaking. Metaphorically Giles is Buffy's mind, making it very fitting that Buffy's resolution is about sorting out her understanding of the Angel/Angelus distinction.
I noticed a thing: during the triangular binding spell we have Buffy at the center of the action, with Willow, Xander and Giles Cordelia supporting her, a motif replayed in Primeval (4x21).
If we understood the metaphor in Teacher's Pet (1x4) we learned that student-teacher romance means the teacher is preying on the student. Here it was... well preying is the wrong word, but here it was the student harming the teacher. I feel this might dilute the message of Teacher's Pet; this episode could've been a bit more on-brand with a line or two with the message that it's not uncommon or shameful for teens to have feelings for 20-somethings—but, if reciprocated, it's inappropriate for the older person to act on those feelings. The tie-in between James/Grace and Buffy/Angel would be perfect, the social commentary would be more to my liking, and I think the social commentary I want is on-point for BTVS. Heck, if you peel of the big S2 metaphor, I see a 16yo girl crushing on a ~26yo red flag, with disastrous consequences. The social commentary I'm calling for is the whole bloody point of S2, so why not reinforce it here? Maybe it would dilute the "awww" when Grace forgives James, like, we're meant to feel it's a sweet couple and they should get each other and that has to be an undiluted high note.
Nitpicking aside, what a gem!
Go Fish
I asked the writers for a good episode, but they said "go fish". Oh well, I guess there's plenty of fish in the sea. Let's plunge in and take a deep dive.
I remembered this as "that one really awfully disappointing episode of Buffy". This time, I found it to be merely "meh". There were a few decent comedy bits: "undercover" // "not under much" and "I'm dating a guy on the Sunnydale High swim team" // "you can die happy" #OohBurn look at the shallow Spordelia Cordelia.
There was a gender role reversal—on BTVS of all places—when Buffy walks Swimmer #2 home from The Bronze (for his protection) after he was attacked.
But on the whole... see, I kinda' enjoyed the early S2 MotW episodes, back when MotW was pretty much all that BTVS was. But now that I have tasted the Bangelus arc (again, this being a rewatch), I have lost my taste for MotWs—at least if they have no tie-in to the bigger picture. This is an episode I simply have no taste for, it doesn't excite me.
[I consider Phases (2x15) and BBB (2x16) MotW episodes with strong thematic tie-ins to the Bangelus arc: all the scoobies are dating monsters. And arguably, Passion (2x17) is about Jenny making risky dating choices, a follow-up on The Dark Age (2x8), making 2x14-2x17 a thematically cohesive run of episodes.]
Becoming
Fuck. Yeah.
Joss is such a scumbag. First he gives Buffy this great resolve and determination (perhaps after some feelings of resignation) in I Only Have Eyes for You, then he makes her waver a bit when she discovers Jenny's re-ensoulment spell. And then she gets Angel back, but it's too late since Angelus already pulled the pin on the doomsday vortex grenade, so she has to let go of him AGAIN! :(
Spike is chaotic and funny. You can always count on his loyalty, at least if you're the highest bidder, and Buffy effectively offered him his big ho girlfriend back. He's such a fool for love, wink-wink nudge-nudge.
I noticed a parallel between the trio of vampires and the trio of nerds: Angelus/Warren is the evil sociopathic leader of the group, Drusilla/Andrew has a crush on the leader and Spike/Jonathan betrays the group and sides with Buffy and the scoobies. [But also differences, of course: SpikeSilla are not as weak-willed as Andrew/Jonathan, for one. And the trio of vampires is charming.]
... and Xander brings Willow back by talking about their friendship and telling her he loves her!
Angelus talked about ascending—retro-echoing the mayor's plot in Graduation Day 2 (3x22).
Also: Angelus tried to pull a sword out of a stone (Acathla). We just went from gothic horror to Arthurian legend? Spike's reaction, "someone wasn't worthy", indicates that Angelus is a false king, not worthy of the throne of Sunnydale. He's not the real mayor so he won't ascend: while he eventually manages to pull the sword out of the stone, his ultimate fate is a downfall—he descends into a hell dimension.
The scoobies have a disagreement in the library about how to deal with Angel(us). I find it notable that it's Xander, Buffy's metaphorical heart, who responds to "I'll stop him" with "like you did last time, with Ms. Calendar"—Buffy is still feeling guilty about not having the heart guts to kill Angelus in Innocence. It's Xander who knows the location of Angelus' mansion, i.e. it's her heart which leads her to lost lover, and it's her heart which says "kick his ass". When he rescues Buffy's metaphorical mind, he (Giles) says "why would they make me see you", i.e. Buffy's mind doesn't want what's in her heart, they are conflicted. Buffy is driven by her feelings and passions now just as much as she was in Surprise when she unleashed Angelus. Once her metaphorical mind has been rescued it saves the day: she gives her regained love one last kiss and one last goodbye, then, letting cooler heads prevail, kicks his ass stabs him in the heart, breaking it, to save the day.
And some greatest hits: "nobody asks for their life to change, not really" ;; "what's left?" // "me" ;; "you hit me one time with an axe" ;; "have you tried not being the slayer?" ;; "you're expelled".
Becoming is peak Buffy.

I went through a really traumatic event at the end of last year and prior I got referred to EMDR althought the waiting list is really long, I've realised I have PTSD and from analysing my behaviours and past C-PTSD seems very likely.
Whilst in trapped in this traumatic situation I got into a relationship with someone in my friend group but I knew her for only a short period. It was a really good period and they helped me a lot with the initial processing of my trauma. She was a really good person however I think she had her own issues and my codependency and her future plans didn't align with god knows what I wanted to do. We broke up at the end of March and I was devastated.
I was then processing this whilst the traumatic incident. We had the same friend group and one of them I realise now because they have a fulltime job, live around the corner from my ex and were best friends longer that we were, always met up with my ex. But at the time I didn't see as rationally like I do now. They never got into contact with me first or invited me to things but I guess that's a friend group with a breakup in the middle. I heard incidents of my ex sleeping with people almost every weekend after the breakup which hurt to my core cause she said she didnt think about sex much when we were together. I guess I kind of felt like everything was a lie? But we weren't together anymore so whilst my hurt was valid it's not like it was any of my business so it was just what it was and hurt.
I got invited to one thing because I'd pushed to try hang out with my friend who's hers too. Whilst I was asleep on the couch at hers, she brought someone in and slept with them and I was awake. This hurt to my core.
I ended up speaking up about it and had a talk about it. I was really upset over it still but it was what it was. I don't think I had processed it properly at this point and still had hurt.
After this they all hung out and I would see this but not be invited to any of them. I felt completetly abandoned by them both, especially with them knowing the trauma I had encountered and initially being there for me, I think I had a traumatic bond with them as a new support system. And it felt like my whole world was crumbling away.
I created my final Uni project about my trauma processing, and posted online about it as it was a film I made and a screening. I saw this as a celebration of how far I'd come because I initally was on the verge of dropping out at the start of the year with everything, but I perservered. Our mutual friend didn't reply to any of these and it really hurt because I saw the film as a celebration and liberation from this trauma. I felt thrown away and forgotten about. I was fighting suicidal thoughts everyday and my mental health was not there at all. My ex had actually replied saying yes, but I wasn't sure how I felt about this because of all the old stuff with hearing them sleep with people.
I then met some other friends. I had all this hurt inside me but decided not to talk about it. Until one of them asked me what had happened between me and my ex. I explained everything from my perspective and my devastation about how abandoned I felt after this trauma. I feel bad because I should have kept some things like the sex life private but I was unloading so much hurt, I had no support system and looked at these guys thinking "yes these friends can be my new people, I can explain this and get their opinion cause I don't know what to do about the film thing". She got into my head saying my ex had lied about one of the things not being consensual and I got really in my head about this and upset because I thought "she might have lied about that to my face after knowing everything I had went through",
I ended up holding the film thing and neither my ex or friend came, I cried all morning of this. Then the people I talked about the devastation with who said they'd come, didn't show up either. They had gone to a house party to drink instead. Hurting more to the core. I spent time with myself after this focusing on my work and realised how bad these abandonment soul wounds had warped into this feeling of utter abandonment when maybe at the time I should have reached out to my inital friend group. I journalled about CPTSD and realised a lot of past things that contributed to the intense emotions I felt.
Then it comes to the friend who was friends with my ex's birthday. I decided to get them some gifts and gave them to them as I didn't want to ruin a connection that helped me so much at the start of the year. It was a nice chat and I realised everything had been in my head and I should have reached out to this initial support system whilst I was undergoing these abandonment thoughts.
They held celebrations and I didn't get invited to any of them because they said they had anxiety of something happened (probably because I had spoke up about the sleeping with someone whilst I was in the house) but the person who didn't show up to the film to drink attended.
I'm pretty sure they talked about me and my ramble and expression of all this hurt but it was warped in a way that made me just look like I was chatting shit rather than suffering with abandonment wounds and hurt by feeling like they didn't care for me at all now I was irrelvant to my ex.
Ever since they've been off with me, I sent a message to our group chat to say I was anxious about anything being tarnished post the breakup because of all the emotions I was facing. I am off their close friends list and messages ignored. I think they hate me. Which hurts so much because I kind of just brought to reality what I had already felt without realising. I feel exhiled and I feel really empty. I've faced so much loss for so long and helpless. I've been completely alone with no proper support system. I feel really horrible because I never have any malice. I loved everyone so deeply and this hurt me and my soul wounds.
I don't know what to do, I'm trying my hard to get on with my life and focus on myself, but I wake up feeling dread and empty everyday - only staying alive for my family. I'm trying to create a better life for myself and have gotten myself out of the house, reading, a new job, making art but my soul feels so torn up. I am trying to get therapy but I went in very suicidal last week and got told the typical things like take a bath, have a tea etc. The EMDR is 2yrs and I can't afford private therapy at the minute.
I guess posting on here I just want someone to hear my story and thoughts and offer any guidance or support, because I don't know what to do anymore. I'm really hurt to my core.
Thank you for reading my story.

I had a lot of food for thought in the past week. To be fair, the suspicion that I could be AuDHD has been rummaging in my brain for quite some time now, but it took a talk with my co-worker who was recently diagnosed with Autism for me to really dig deeper. She is very high-functioning and high-masking, but we share so many traits in various aspects that it kind of just clicked for me.
I then spoke to my mum on Friday and asked her if she thinks it possible and funnily enough, she instantly said that it is extremely likely based on my difficulties in social scenarios and stimuli. She is a care worker and has completed many courses on autism due to her job, so hearing that made me feel extremely validated. I am currently only diagnosed with ADHD because I didn't bring up the possibility of autism at that point.
My symptoms are probably on the lower end of the spectrum. It is very hard to find resources online that are written specifically for women with AuDHD. So I thought to post here and see if people diagnosed with both can relate or if I'm just completely off the mark.
For a long time I didn't really do well in groups of people. They overwhelm and overstimulate me if I am not in a setting of people who don't share my special interests. Other times I simply just am.... Extremely uninterested in talking to people who don't like what I like. The point my mum highlighted was that I always avoided social interaction, that talking to people made me extremely anxious, that I never "fit in". I know that something like this can be attributed to general anxiety or social anxiety, but for me the biggest issue is always that I simply don't know how to engage with people because I don't know how to be like them. Small talk doesn't do much for me. I learned to do it to be polite, because that's the social norm, but I don't care about it at all. I always just want to talk about my special interests and that's why it's easier for me to be social at, for example, comic cons and stuff. Because that's the only place where I feel like I can be myself. If I am forced to talk to "normal" people I feel out of place and extremely uncomfortable. I have to play a role, but always with the sense that I am an imposter.
Then there's eye contact. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable to look at a person's face when I am talking to them. I can't pinpoint why, but eye contact makes me squirm and cringe and I don't like it at all. I also force myself to do it now because again, it's kind of the norm.
My special interests absorb me and it's usually all I think about. I have always been a daydreamer, living in the world I am currently absorbed by. My partner is very likely on the spectrum too and luckily we share the same special interests, so that is an absolute blessing because he is the only person in my life I really don't have to mask with.
I have been stimming since I was a child, and textures are an especially important part for me. I always need to touch something with texture, even now.
But there's certain textures and smells that make me really uncomfortable. Oily or slimy things in particular. For the longest time I was unable to moisturise my skin because the feeling of cream is a big no for me. Therefore I've also hardly ever used sunscreen because the feeling AND smell is horrible for me. I apologise for the TMI but I struggle extremely with giving oral sex due to that reason too. I can't deal with the texture of certain bodily fluids and it makes me feel awful because my partner became insecure about it before. I tried to explain why to him, but I don't know how you explain something like that.
Empathy is a difficult subject. I always thought I was an extremely empathetic person, because I'm always there for other people and do what I can do help them. But if I really dig deep, I don't know if I truly ever understood someone's emotions in the way neurotypical people might. Big emotions make me uncomfortable because I don't know how to react. So it is likely my trying to comfort others was a way to help someone stop feeling these big feelings, so that it no longer makes me feel awkward. It sounds horrible, I know. That said, being empathetic is a lot easier when it happens on the internet, because I'm not directly next to someone who is crying. I also don't have any trouble crying at movies or stuff, and I am extremely against justice or harm against vulnerable groups (be that animals or people) and my empathy absolutely kicks in when I see injustice or harm against them. It is really tricky, and I don't know how to explain it.
However I think due to my ADHD I never struggled when my routine gets interrupted, because I'm so used to not having one. I am definitely stuck in ways to do stuff - I can't creatively think outside of the box and have to do things a certain way, be it at work or with my hobbies, and that places a huge barrier for me, because I feel like it prevents me from progressing. I did have emotional outbursts before when plans got interrupted I've prepared for in my head. But generally I can be quite spontaneous (or rather impulsive, if we're being honest) without trouble.
Sorry this got really long, but I'd be interested in hearing your stories and if you can relate. I'm probably gonna pursue a diagnosis eventually just to have a definitive answer and to be able to say "ah, this is why I am the way I am".

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

Hi, I posting here as I don’t know where else to post and who to ask for advice.
Briefly, I met a guy last year on a dating app, we had a couple of dates and nothing happened at all. After a few weeks, I kinda lost interest due to my personal life and circumstances and I told him and ask him if he would accept to be my friend. He got a bit mad and said that for him we had a mental relationship even though we met every now and then and nothing had happened and conversation were not sexualized at all nor was there any seduction or I would have put a stop to it… He stopped talking for a few weeks and then came back by himself saying he accepted but that he was not that close to friends and that we were going to talk occasionally which I agree with. Months passed and we kept talking by messages and on the phone and he started being or trying to be ambiguous so I had to restate that we were friends as we had agreed on. But at that moment he said that he wanted more and that if I didn’t want then we would be friends and not talk that much. I agreed with it since I never initiate contact almost and he is the one calling etc. He tried to put some dilemma on me like if you expect me to talk this much (we have a call once every few weeks and messages probably once every other day) otherwise I won’t do it etc. I told him his definition and modalities of what a friendship was fine to me and that we could follow his rule. Here is when he started saying that he didn’t need any more friend and that this wasn’t a friendship. I told him that I didn’t understand as talking to someone casually the way we do is very much of a friendship to me, how else could we call it ? Especially after having defined and agreed on it a few months back. I felt bad of having responded to his texts and calls as I do for other friends as I have the impression it mislead him even though I am particularly careful with my words and actions so as never to be ambiguous (I even mentioned many times our friendship etc). Although, I am by nature a friendly and caring person with my friends I don’t believe I could have given him wrong signals. Or is it already too much to talk and be nice to someone ? But isn’t it what friends do ? Also I am not dating right now but the day I will I usually have no problem talking about that with friends, how will he react ?
Something else that makes me question his personality is that he said that what we were doing was not being friends. I am surprised to say the least as I have the chance of having friends and this is usually what happens with them, I mean we talk and call and see each other just to enjoy time together. He asked me what these friendship bring to me and I said joy and happiness. And he said that he is busy and only has friends that bring him something and help him through his life goals. I said I respected his concept of friendship but I can’t help but wonder if this isn’t a bit particular way of thinking… Also I asked him if for him there was no value in time shared with loved ones just for the sake of it even with family, and he said no and that he would only for example spend time with his mom to pay her back for what she did for him. I was astonished but I didn’t comment further.
Am I wrong ? Did I misbehave ? What is happening ? Is it me or this is a strange way from him to try to “force” something with me ? How could he still want something with someone who told you “no” so many times ? Should I put some more space between us ?

I didn't even know what I had was HS until about a few months ago. And I've had it for many years now.
When I brought it up to my mom, she said she's faced it when she was younger and it's a result of weight and eating desserts. To stop both, fix my PCOS and be healthy in life.
I just wish it was not this difficult. The doc said nothing can be done and she's put me on a five day antibiotics with mupirocin everytime the flare gets really bad. She has reintroduced isotretinoin orally since two weeks (I had taken it for my grade 3 cystic acne back in 2020 and it helped clear my whole face up)
The lumps in my underarms and my groin area just make me feel so hopeless. They keep coming. And hurts like a fucking bitch everytime I move my arm or sit or get up.
To lose weight, I need to work out. My derm asks me not to work out till the flare goes down to avoid sweating and friction when it's agitated. The flare goes down with the meds, and then I try to work out and it comes back up. It's a fucking vicious cycle, I just feel lost. And to worsen it, I live in an extremely humid beach city, which ranks in top 10 of the most polluted cities in the world, lol.
Uptil recently I was ignoring the fuck out of it, thinking it's my problem and I've to deal with it and there is no way out. That hasn't changed but what my partner said made me feel different. He said - you shouldn't have to suffer through this. There has to be a way out. One dermat saying there is no way out can't be it, right?
And he was also the one who encouraged me to get medical help for my acne because that shit was horridly painful and use to affect my daily life. He was like - fuck the cosmetics reasons, if something can be done to improve your quality of life and not be in pain, why should you suffer?
And it makes me think - is there no way to find a solution for my HS? There are days where I can't help with home chores and just feel absolutely disgusted with myself and disappointed in myself for being such an inconvenience. My partner assures me and asks me never to worry about chores, etc and to rest. And also appreciates and compliments me so much and tells me this doesn't bother him. (He's helped me bandage it up and drain it many times)
But I just feel - so tired. Just tired. Very tired. It hurts to think this is how the rest of my life will be like. I'm only 27. And I just feel like an inconvenience. A nuisance. Feel like his life would be better off without me. Probably with someone who is healthy, without HS, PCOS, fitter and happier.

Hey,
​
This is gonna be long-winded and probably incoherent, but I just need to get this off my chest and if you have any insight regarding why it's constantly happening to me I'd love to hear it.
I consider myself a pretty introverted guy, but I've generally had no issues talking with girls and getting dates, more so recently of course, since I've been growing more comfortable in my own skin. I'm definitely a romantic, I never understood the attitude of guys that treat girls like trash, that just doesn't compute in my head. If I love something, I'm going to take care of it to the best of my ability.
I think we have all had that experience of "the one that got away", well mine was no different. The girl I met when I started uni was special, she was drop dead gorgeous, completely my type, witty and cracked jokes like I would, we finished each other's sentences, we had the same ideas and ambitions. Everything was going great, I was on cloud nine and I never even thought about this like that, but this girl made me think that she's the one I'm gonna marry. We were celebrating new year's at a mutual friend's house and we hooked up, it was phenomenal. Literally 2 days later she ghosts me out of nowhere, I panic. I reach out to talk to her face to face to see what's going on. She obliged reluctantly and word for word said "I'm sorry it's not going to work, you are too good for me".
Now, I've had my heart broken a few times by this point, but this... This was devastating.
I went to a dark place in my own mind, stopped talking with everyone, started doing drugs and generally engaging in self-destructive behavior. It was really hard accepting the fact that my best was never enough for her, I blamed myself constantly, I cried dozens of times alone outside. Whenever a song came up on the radio that reminded me of her my whole mood changed, even if it was jolly prior. I generally am able to keep a cool and straight face when I'm around family as I never want to talk about my own problems, mostly because I know that if I do I will fucking meltdown so I steer clear, I never want them to feel sorry for me, but even they thought something weird was going on and kept asking me questions.
It took me a good 3 years to accept what happened and start trying to move on, as you can imagine my confidence was shattered for that whole time and my self-worth was at an all time low. I started dating again, but not to find love, I don't believe in that anymore, just for sex and to feel wanted. I would tell girls what they wanted to hear, hook up and bail. Hell, sometimes they only wanted sex too, that was optimal. If I didn't get intimate with a girl on the 2nd date I would just look for someone else, I never wanted to put in any effort into actually cultivating anything meaningful or fulfilling. I would always feel like shit when I would pump and dump, because deep down I know what I was doing and that it wasn't me, but I also craved the satisfaction. Looking back, I was definitely perpetuating my own trauma.
Now, I used mainly dating apps, sometimes just start texting people I knew. But a few weeks ago I was at the supermarket and just on my phone walking, when some girl just ran in front of me at speed and knocked me off balance for a moment, she just glanced back at me and I saw how pretty she was, it sent a shock down my body. She was hurrying to get some beer, which I respected and admired. When we were on our way out I approached her to talk to her, told her she caught my eye and asked for her number. She gave me the digits, but she was so flabbergasted it was really funny and cute. We went on a date the next day, she's amazing, we mesh so well together. She's smart and responsible, takes care of her parents same as I do, we found a lot in common. I was thrilled, I never approached anyone like this and the time I felt that I had to do it - it paid off in a big way. I was falling for her and she was for me.
We went on dates, we had fun, talked and walked a lot. I bring her lunch to work, flowers sometimes. She was celebrating a sister's birthday one evening and I had taken her from the place to her apartment, she said she wanted me to stay the night, so I did. It was glorious, we both had a great time.
After that she ghosted me, she doesn't text me first anymore. I have to show all the initiative now, whenever I try to set up dates she's busy. To be fair she is pretty busy, she has 2 jobs and she's one of those people like me that don't pull out their phone when hanging out with someone, just not that attached to technology which I really vibe with. She spends a lot of time with her family, she has sisters and cousins that are all the same age and they hang out in the evenings at her place or at her sister's place and I trust that she's not lying. I've met her cousins, they are all really sweet. But I just feel like she's lost interest in me, I keep trying to get something going but her response times are getting longer and longer.
Honestly I've never seen a switch flip so suddenly, it's like she's a different person now. We used to be so intimate, not only in a sexual way but she would sleep on my chest, hug me in her sleep, squeeze me and not let me go, now she barely gives me any attention. It feels like I'm a burden on her right now. She told me that she has always had trouble with relationships because she's so busy with work and it never worked due to this, but I also feel like she could make time for me if she wanted to, but just chooses not to. I feel like I'm about to get my heart annihilated again.
I don't want to lose her, she made me believe in love again. I truly love this girl and want to build my future with her. I keep fighting the urge to reach out to her and try to make it work, but I think that pulling back might be the best play, however painful it might be right now.
Why is it that always when something good happens to me it never lasts.. Always disappointment after disappointment. What is wrong with me?

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

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