How long can sperm stay alive for insemination

The bright yellow terror

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

I don't know who this will reach but I feel like this is a pretty awful thing and I don't know what to do. My boyfriend and I have been dating for a while and its been so amazing he is definitely the man I want to marry. I am a pretty sensible person so when I say this is it for me I mean it. I do not think I will ever meet anyone like him (as cliche as it sounds).
He is a Math/CS major, he wants to do both. So he is transferring to another school from community college. We thought he would definitely go to UC Berkeley because it makes perfect sense and he would stay close to me because I go to college in San Francisco. We were totally locked in because it is such a great school.
Just yesterday he got accepted into Columbia's CS program. Which is amazing except we're cooked. I live and go to school in SF and Columbia is all the way in NYC. His parents really badly want him to go to Columbia. Its looking like that is what he's gonna choose ( even though imo, berkeley is so much better for the tech and cs scene, we see it everyday in SF and the bay area is made for startups which he is interested in - not sure how much of that translates in nyc). Accepting Columbia also means he would graduate in 3 years cause his credits don't transfer.
I don't know what to do- Or rather, I don't know what I can do. We both cried for hours yesterday. What is a solution to this problem? Long distance for 3 years is quite insane to be doing especially because his parents live in a different state so during breaks he would go there. So seeing each other would be near impossible.
Anyway again not sure where this is gonna go but if anyone has any suggestions that would be cool. This was so surprising and hard to process I am still at a loss. I don't think I could ever get over him if we break up. Do you think we have any hope?

-My husband & I have been together for 8yr. Below is a timeline of my MIL issues starting when we first began dating, to now, several years married.
Before meeting my now-husbands mother, VERY early on in our relationship and before we were even official, his mother requested to follow me on all my social media accounts. I had not met her at the time and found it way too soon & creepy. Even at this point I got the initial feeling she was the type who forces levels of intimacy that she has not made the effort to genuinely attain.
-In the beginning I did make a concerted effort w/ his family. I quickly learned his Mother asks v. intrusive questions. It’s clear her questions aren’t genuine, but for the sole purpose of having ‘intel’. As if it’s ’information gathering’ for her benefit.
-The 2nd time meeting his mother she immediately asked me what year my parents got married. I told her I wasn’t sure & she began asking me if I knew what decade.. followed by questions re: my mom’s birthdate. Then she told me what she really wanted to know was my mom’s age (always an ulterior motive..). She was beyond giddy to discover she was younger than my mom. I told her my mom was slightly older than some of my peers mothers bc she had a daughter (my sister) before I was born who passed away and she had trouble conceiving afterwards. His mom didn’t react or respond to this as she was still so giddy to over the fact she was younger than my mom. Red flag..
-In our early relationship my husband lived in a house w/ friends. He was 26. When we’d visit his family, his mom would always say he should move back home & save money. I found this odd behavior for a mother wanting their son to grow & flourish as an adult.
-After a year & a half dating we decide to move in together. My future MIL pulls me to the side for a 1 on 1 conversation & tells me if things don’t work out, don't worry, there’s always a way to break a lease & get out of it if things aren’t going well (why would things not go well…?). She begins quizzing me re: my prior relationships/ how they ended. Before going back to the topic of us moving in together & basically tells me she doesn’t approve.. generally makes me feel unacceptEd. I tell my now husband how uncomfortable this made me & he has a talk with her, she gaslights, tells him she feels she’s walking on eggshells w/ us & did nothing wrong, we are so sensitive, how she doesn’t do anything right.
-She begins incessantly planning get togethers with us, telling us she never gets to see us (when we visit 1-2x/month). We don’t even live in the same city. Not to mention we’re busy in our 20’s w/ friends & establishing our own lives. Every time she sees us she leads w/, ‘oh I’ve missed you sooo much. when did I see you last? Why has it been so long? I’m soooo happy to see you. (On & on, guilt trip behavior).
-Our first Christmas dating we spent w/ his family, the 2nd year w/ my family. When we told her we wojld spend the 2nd Christmas w/ my family she had a huge outburst, behaving super frantic/ triggered. We got upset and left shortly after. The following day I txted her we were upset she reacted to our plan that way, we spent the prior Christmas w/ them & it was our decision.. and moving forward we’d be splitting holidays. She played it off, said I wasn’t upset at all if you thought that I really wasn’t! I don’t think I came off like that, sorry if you felt that way, then she changed the subject. Once again gaslighting (this being the last time I confront her myself. My husband handles from here on out)
-She begins asking where I buy all my clothes. Nonstop questions ab my material possessions. Then starts going out and buying the same items for herself.
-She starts constantly telling my husband on the phone how she never sees him and making him feel guilty. When we see his parents 1-2 times a month.. and live 2 hrs away.
-Around this time, If I stated an opinion ab something (as in I would bring it up) she’d debate everything I would say as if I wasn’t allowed to have that opinion.
-Pulls me to the side of a party 1 on 1 & tells me in private ‘you’re so lucky to have my son, I just want you to know that you’re really lucky.. I hope you know it’ she wasn’t being nice when she said it.
-Around this time she tells us how my husbands sister is so sad that he (my husband) has a gf (me) but how she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Triangulating her 2 children, w/ the goal of wanting her son to feel guilt for being happy and in a successful relationship.
-Husbands mom starts getting jealous when we go on family beach trips w/ my family. We go for a week every year. She makes disapproving comments to us/ is generally unhappy her son is enjoying vacations.
-She starts making comments to now husband ab how I am closed off, crying to him about never seeing him and how he doesn’t make enough effort..
-Begins incessantly micromanaging my husband: texts him reminding him of this and that, tells him my (as in me…) birthday is X days away, to make sure to get me something, to get his sister something, reminding him he should ‘make plans with his dad soon or go see his dad soon’ or ‘have you called your sister recently? You need to call her it’s your job as a brother’
-Begins generally undermining how we live our lives, generally casting judgement on any and every decision we make.
-Around this time his sister who is only 2 years younger begins acting bratty- we give her furniture, tvs, clothing large items she says she wants and she is super ungrateful, complains about the items we give her, tells us they’re too heavy for her & that we need to carry it for her and put it In her house for her. Only calls or texts us when she needs something, wants advice, or wants to complain to us. Never any other times. It’s always all ab her.
-His sister then keeps our dog for us when we are out of town for a few days (which we were shocked her said yes). We stocked the fridge w/ 7 or so bottles of wine for her and made our home lovely/ special for her stay. Her new boyfriend even comes to stay with her (they both have roommates so this is a chance for the 2 of them to be alone). After our trip we were over the top grateful thanking her many times. She then pitches a fit to my now husband telling him we bought her cheap Trader Joe’s wine and that she can’t believe we didn’t bring her back a tshirt from our trip, complaining on and on yelling at him.
-my husband and I get engaged and his mom/sister begin trying to force get togethers, my husband sister begins asking me to go to workout classes, etc. which is v. Out of character. It continues & becomes apparent this is happening only bc we got engaged. It feels disgenuine as she never made efforts in the 5 years before we were engaged…
-My bridesmaids are my closest, nearest dearest friends who I’ve known for 10+ years. My husband’s sister cried when she found out she wasn’t a bridesmaid and started calling my husband weekly crying / begging him to be a bridesmaid. Then my MIL starts calling, telling him how disappointed she is. He tells his mother, I’m not sure why she’d expect to be a bridesmaid, she’s never made an effort, they aren’t close, she gets to select her closest friends to stand by her side. This has nothing to do with not liking or leaving anyone out on purpose. His mom cries, repeats how deeply disappointed she is, how wrong this is, etc. My husband tells his mother he plans to ask his dad to be his best man. Disclaimer: neither of my brothers were by husbands groomsmen, they couldn’t have cared less…
-My husband asks his father to be his best man. His father declines and says ‘no, not unless your sister can be a bridesmaid’………………….
-My MIL creates her own wedding hotel block for her friends and family, sending out a mass email to them. This is outside of the 4 hotel blocks we already have on our wedding website.
-I start hearing my MIL is saying to friends/family, ‘As long as my son is happy that’s all I care about, I just really hope that he is. All I can do is hope’ and telling people how devastated she is that her daughter isn’t a bridesmaid and how messed up and wrong it is and how weddings are a family celebration for the family. No one ever confronts me once about the bridesmaid situation.
-My husband ends up telling his mother to never mention the bridesmaid topic again, how he won’t tolerate it and is done hearing about it.
-We ask my SIL to give a reading at our wedding. Her response: ‘if I have to’. She is a pill our entire wedding, in almost every photo she is scowling.
-When we receive our wedding photos & upload online, my SIL/MIL text and ask me where all the photos of them are (there were plenty…). I told them I uploaded every photo our photographer sent. They told me this wasn’t true, were extremely disrespectful to me, basically told me I was lying when I wasn’t. I uploaded every single one. I even reached out to my photographer to ask if she’s deleted any of the photos before sending…
-My husband & I got into a disagreement with my SIL where we had a huge argument resulting in a 6 month period of no contact. This arises after we confronted her, calmly & maturely about an issue we had to which she cussed us out and called me every terrible curse word you can imagine. My husband was livid- told her she would not talk to/ab me that way & how childish she was behaving, how we should be able to confront her when we are upset about something she’s done, etc. After several months of no contact w/ my SIL, my MIL begins calling my husband saying: you ‘will/must’ resolve things w/ your sister. He says no & it’s not her business. My husbands father then calls him, clearly deployed by MIL (as he’s very chill/no-drama). The situation becomes even more stressful due to my MIL pressuring my husband re: a topic that doesn’t involve her. I too become stressed, seeing my in laws trying to control him. My in laws then have my SIL’s bf text my Husband saying, ‘I really hate seeing this for the family I want everyone to be ok’ (although once has my SIL attempted to reach out & apologize for calling me a bit** cu**, etc). When his attempt doesn’t work on my husband, my MIL then sends my husband & me a joint text message ab How she wouldn’t be intervening if her daughter could handle this on her own & how we need to fix it. My husband responds & tells his mom off, essentially saying: This isn’t your business. My wife is owed an apology, you guys also have never apologized for how horribly you treated us during our wedding.. the happiest time of our lives, a day we get to have exactly how WE want. My sister can handle her own problems she’s an adult, shes never going to learn bc you meddle in every problem she has bc you want things your way. Then when you don’t get what you want, you get everyone to do your dirty work for you in hopes you can bulldoze & get your way. You make everything ab you, what you want, when & how you want it. Those days are over (this is a summary of his response).
(hmm wonder why my SIL doesn’t know how to handle adversity, bc you handle everything for her even though she is an adult)
-SIL reaches out to my husband and says she wants to talk. He says no, you treated my wife poorly. You will reach out and apologize to her, not me. You won’t disrespect my wife. And she does do this although it takes her a week or so. And it did seem genuine.
-I think this all stems from drama my MIL creates, and when things don’t go her way she pulls others in to manipulate them & do her dirty work for her.
-husband and I lived 2 hours from his parents. We end up moving 10 hours away to create distance from his family. They disapprove and generally disapprove of any and every decision we make, as they don’t act with love and support our decisions as loving parents would.
-In laws announce they are starting an annual family vacation…to the private beach MY family has vacationed at since I was born (it’s not a mainstream location…it’s rather obscure). My in laws have never even been there before. I tell my husband I absolutely refuse to go & will not enable the intrusive/copying behavior.
-My husband & I take a trip just 2 of us. We stay in an airbnb. 3 months later his parents tell us they planned a trip to the same location for the 2 of them & they’d also found & booked the exact same airbnb we stayed at so they could experience the same exact trip my husband & I went on….
-Additional overstepping, intrusive, creepy behavior like above persists. They start buying many of the same exact material items, or furniture we own (obscure antiques, designer items, etc….), essentially copying everything we do. We want our own unique & individual things that make us, US. & it seems as if demand to show us they won’t allow us to have that for ourselves under and circumstance. Almost as if they aren’t entitled full access to our lives, so they will bulldoze and access our lives in their own ways to make them feel in control. This is my take.
-There’s no major animosity now but we have majorly pulled away from them. My husband calls his parents once a month or so. We now see them 3-4 times a year.
-Things will be nice & relaxing for a month or 2 then out of the blue my MIL will blow up out of nowhere calling my husband 8x in a row telling him he will speak to his mother he will do this and that. Often he simply ignores her or waits several days to respond. She likes to tell him ‘you need to call your father and speak with him’ ‘hey it’s dads birthday make sure do this and that’ (obviously we know when their birthdays are… we are pretty on top of things, still she cannot stand not being in control).
-MIL just flipped out on my husband for not calling her on Mother’s Day, though we send a gift, card, and send multiple texts first thing in the morning. My husband received multiple messages from his dad : why have you not called your mother??? Did you forget? Call your mother now. We’re skeptical the texts were actually from his dad..
-Although we’ve distanced ourselves, the every 2 mnth outbursts are exhausting. I am now 6 weeks pregnant. So excited! BUT Dreading telling them as I envision MIL & SIL making it all about them, freaking out ab how we aren’t involving them enough.. I imagine my MIL starting to disgeuninely call/text me constantly, demand to be involved at the level she expects & believes she deserves, will probably buy high chairs, cribs, etc for her own home.. and make it about her In any way possible.
Any advice on how to deal with a woman like this? I feel like I have to constantly prepare for her actions, outbursts, or things she might say. She’s draining, the pressure she puts on my husband is absurd, her expectations are outrageous, she’s judgmental and controlling, everything is about her, and she is emotionally immature in every way. I feel protective over my husband and our marriage and can’t stand them constant trying to order him around with their high expectations and demands. Help!

My partner has ME/CFS-type LC and I am their primary caregiver. We've been doing this since July 2023 but they've grown severe / bed-bound since New Year's 2024. When they have a had day/week, I find that I get more depressed and burned out as well. This weekend has been one of those weekends.
I'm a very solution-oriented person. My coping strategy when there is a problem is to keep moving forward. With this illness, I feel like I'm competing against a brick wall. My partner and I have tried several different prescriptions, many OTC medications, and countless supplements, before generally reaching the consensus that the best thing they can do is rest and wait. They spend most of their days just lying in total darkness, alone, without any music or noise.
I do think rest and time is some of the best things for them, but it's also infuriating to not feel like there's a better answer. I want something I can do for them. Not just to help them stay alive. I want to do something that feels like it's helping them to actually feel better and instead I'm just left feeling powerless. I hold their hand while they cry and tell me how they just wish they didn't exist. I accept that a part of my role is to be a witness to their pain and their experience with this virus, but it has a toll on me too.
I've been with my partner for weeks-shy of 4 years. They've been the best partner I've ever had in my life and I love them so much. It feels so cruel that we're now separated by this illness. We live together and yet they're so sick that our time together is reduced to caregiving and tending to their basic needs. I keep going on with my life – going to work, doing things around the house, watching TV or whatever – but it all feels hollow without my partner. I feel like I'm living in a black/white world that used to be full of color.
And listen – I know we're both fortunate in many ways. We're not living in debt. We have a nice apartment with two lovely cats. We do have some support from friends and family. I have a great therapist and my partner has doctors that are generally supportive (if still a little clueless about LC at times). Even with everything this virus has taken from my partner and I, I know things could be worse. It's just still impossible.
This is truly just me venting because I'm heartbroken and angry that this is happening. I'm just feeling really worn down, this weekend. I would give anything to swap positions with my partner, where I'm the sick person and my partner was well. Yet we both agree that I'm probably better suited for the stress of caregivebreadwinner than they would be had it been me who got sick. Maybe that's the one silver lining, a modicum of "meaning", in all of this.
tl;dr - Fuck this godawful virus.

Not too sure if this is allowed here but the main relationship advice sub does not allow for minors to post so I thought I might as well try here.
I know there’s a lot of hate around e-dating and I get it, personally I’m not a huge fan either. But there’s this one girl that I really like and she lives pretty far, not that that was really ever an issue and we’ve been friends for a small while now with no problem.
Lately, I (17M), asked her out (16F), and she said yes. We had apparently both liked each other (romantically) for a month (her apparently longer than I’ve had feelings for her). Things were going pretty well and I guess we were just being sorta flirty (not a ton of things you can do in an online relationship anyway, although we both knew that we would meet in two years or so).
The problem arose when she randomly texted me yesterday evening, telling me that she “didn’t know how to tell this to me” and that she felt that my love for her was “too heavy” and that she felt that it could be of better use elsewhere. She said that she of course wanted to stay friends but from the way that she put it, it seemed like, to me anyway, that she fell in love with the guy she was talking to when I was her friend, not the guy who was flirting with her more often as a partner.
She’s currently asleep and I’ve got a few hours till she sees my messages (I’ll get to what I said later). Worst case scenario is that we actively remain friends but I still want to salvage the relationship. I feel like my mistake was, was that she was pretty emotional and “didn’t really know how to control her emotions” (?, don’t know if that’s the right word for it considering she’s not mentally stable or anything but just simply emotional) and that she had never once been in a relationship before.
Upon seeing the messages, it almost seemed like she wasn’t too sure, so I proposed that we should try to talk this over and apologized for taking things too fast for her without providing much of a transition period into what would ever be regarded as a proper relationship. So, I guess the question is, is this relationship salvageable at all? Can I keep things going? Will I ever have the chance to try with her again in the future? Or is this really the end?
And no, before you imagine me as some chronically online dude clinging onto this poor girl, I’m not. I’m active outside and I have tons of friends. This is my first time ever e dating and that was only because this girl was really special to me. So please, if I could get some advice about what I can do and if it really is over or not, it would be much appreciated. Thank you all for those who read this far as well, I know it was pretty long.

I apologize, the reason this is so long is because 1.) I suck at summarizing 2.) backstory of some sort is needed to understand this excuse of a man and/or human being. 3.) I’m not a good storyteller, but you are, Charlotte, and I know you can take this mess of info and turn it into a beautiful, long-time-coming, petty revenge story for your channel. Because what is more petty than an herbal, flowery Trojan horse no one knows about?
Cast: OP-me Swister- my older sister Mom - mine and my sister’s mom, grandmother to Trish/Patty BIL- exactly who it says, and a huge butthole. Patty/Trish - the same person, a four year old little girl, product of union between BIL and Swister.
Some (bit rambling to explain some stuff) backstory:
Last winter, to get out of the horrible, freezing, painfully striking sleet (it would not pass over our town, was just there, stuck in a vortex, for what seemed like eternity) of January in our hometown (we were always just a couple degrees away from it being snow, and quite a few times we got lots of hail, some as big as softballs, and could damage cars and punch through windshields, etc. I know this sounds like ‘The Long Winter’ by Laura Ingalls Wilder, but both me and my mom (I’m disabled and have to live with someone to help in every day life, I’m not a high school dropout living in mommy’s basement playing fortnight or assassin’s creed and have memorized cheat codes. The only video games I’ve ever played were duck hunt, which my grandpa actually got for himself bc he loved to hunt, so I only got to play it in turns with my five other cousins when we visited him); and N64’s Zelda:Ocarina of Time. I hope those titles illustrate for you the last time I played a video game. Oh! And the Oregon Trail, but I always died of some disease that doesn’t happen today or is curable with fluids, rest, and maybe some penicillin. But I digress.) but both me and my mom and my older sister (who was pregnant at the time) and BIL moved about 15 minutes down a little used two lane highway. And when my niece was born late 2019, we named her Patricia after my grandmother. (Patty or Trish for short).
My BIL claims he can smell everything ten times better than any other human, ‘probably because I’m an Alpha Male, and I need heightened senses to protect my pack, my family.’ Okay, I won’t deny he is sensitive to scent, but if his food doesn’t come out smelling right (almost always made special order bc of his ‘allergies’ (that’s what he tells the waitress; in reality, he just doesn’t want stuff he doesn’t like on his plate, and is too fucking lazy to just take the single pickle chip off the McDonald’s cheeseburger. If half of America can do it, why not him? ‘I might smell and taste it with my superhuman olfactory senses.’ He said with a very sincere, serious tone and face, like I was in special education and couldn’t understand it was 1,2,3, not 1,3,2. He is an arrogant misogynistic asshole. My sister could have done sooooooo much better. Idk y she chose him to marry (for a general idea of all what he looks like, speaks like, and sounds like (minus the slight lisp) is the video of the ‘dating coach’ who took the video in his car, opening it with ‘you do not have to accept her rejection, say things like I’m the best, why wouldn’t you want me, you should see my basement with ropes and pulleys and hooks, and do you know what a did with her that night? Well, it’s not appropriate to talk about on this platform”… yeah, that guy, except for the lisp, could be my BIL IDENTICAL twin. Anyway, now you know BIL is a creepy, asshole, bastard with no sense of boundaries or personal space, who think women are lesser than him. Moving on.
I also suffer from anxiety, insomnia, and a few other things that require me to take meds that can slow down your breathing, so if I can take care of my pain, anxiety, and insomnia without having to take a narcotic or benzo, and it works, I choose that path first. Some of these ways are ice packs, heating pads, a special herbal tea, aromatherapy, yoga, sleeping surrounded by pillows like I were in a nest, making sure to do a little bit of some exercise and always taking my daily walks (I don’t want the pain to get so bad from being sedentary I will require a wheelchair before I absolutely have to) and don’t always want to be popping clonapen or oxy or morphine all day and falling asleep, especially around my niece. I don’t want her to ever believe pills fix problems.
So to escape the horrible winter in our new home environment, my mom decided to use her saved-up reward points and book us all a ten day trip to Disney Aulani Hawaii, specifically Disney bc of my niece. My mom and I had been there before, in 2020, right when resorts opened back up at much less than capacity because of COVID rules, and we had gone for a week, so I knew they had an awesome spa I could spend my saved vacation money on.
The minute we step into our two bedroom, two full bath (each with both a shower and separate tubs!), an ok sized but capable kitchen, and a nice, big, comfy furniture filled common room/living room. All of my stuff I put in the room I’d be sharing with my mom, then took my niece to go and get her first Shirley Temple (they are a virgin cocktail I have loved as a kid, still do, that are super easy to make the ghetto way - diet 7up (diet taste better in the cocktail, idk why, it just the way the Gods have decreed it so), grenadine, and maraschino cherries (as many as you want, but kids usually get two and adults one. I think this is unfair) and tada! You have a Shirley Temple.
So I’m walking back to the room, both of us holding our reusable drink cups for our stay (if you bring the cup with you, you get any non alcoholic drink for free during your stay. Coolcool.) And I open the door and hear my mom and sister begging BIL to just stop it, let it go, just enjoy the ten days here. BIL is in MY room, going through MY things, yelling at mom and sis to leave him alone, he has to find it, it reeks, etc. I’m like, GTFO of my stuff, this is extremely violating, sister, are you not concerned and pissed he is pawing through my bra and panties right now, ‘looking for hidden pockets’?
Finally, he grabs this 15 or 20 mL vial I have, a pain relieving roll on I use for my migraines and tension headaches, about $55 after tax, not including S&H. I had left my almost empty one at home, and this was a brand new vial, safety wrapping still on. He blames me, said I was trying to ruin ‘his hard earned vacation’ (he has no job, only looks after my niece enough to feed her (most of the time) and my sister had to find a high -enough paying job so she could work from home so she could do every job like she were a single mother. The only chore he does, and only like 65% of the time (they love to eat out and/or order in) is cooking, and as much as I hate him, sometimes his dishes are good. Not phenomenal, like he practically requires everyone to praise it as, even if he just added sage basil and oregano to a frozen pizza.
So I ask, “how the hell can you smell that? There is the outer plastic seal and the inner lid seal?” And he goes off on being an Alpha Males and olfactory nonsense. Then he takes the vial and runs out of the room with it. He takes it to a housekeeping services cart several doors down and spikes I into her trash can, which by the thunk sound the vial made told me not only was her trash nearly or almost nearly empty, and that he had broken and wasted a valuable medical tool because he is batshit crazy and doesn’t see me as a person outside of how I interact with his everyday life, like I’m a NPC who doesn’t exist or say anything until a real person player comes into my field of awareness. He pawed through every item I owned, including underwear and opening my tampons one to sniff (I especially bought no scented for this trip, and he went and ruined a whole box of them (I’m not putting a previously opened and practically stuck up my BIL’s nose tampons! It’s not just unsanitary, it’s gross on so many levels! I also save up what little money I have leftover from my SSDI monthly checks, so over several months, I had saved up to buy that, bc it worked where others just smelled good but didn’t take the tension headache or migraine away. He has never had to pay for things with his own money, so has no concept of it, of saving money, of worth.
I stewed and stewed and I knew I had to be as petty as possible and still not get caught. I was still thinking these thoughts on our third to last day while I got an unusual massage at the Aulani spa. First is usual deep tissue massage, but then they rub your back and skin with tingly oils and take what looks like the contents of a bag of tea (very heady and fragrant in that small room) and rub it all over you, wrap you up for 15 min, scrape it off you, also taking excess body oil and dead skin cells with it as it goes. And then, smelling all those wonderful scents, I had a genius thought. As she scraped the herbs and stuff off my skin into a bowl, I asked for a to go bag for the herbs, and pretended I wanted to put them in a foot bath I was giving myself tonight in my room. Shockingly, they agreed, and gave me all the scrapings, herbs, essential &body oils, and dead skin cells, in a linen drawstring bag they said I could just toss the whole bag into the hot water.
Now, when I travel, I always pack duct tape in my checked baggage. To make sure shampoo, conditioner, lotion, stuff like that, wet and messy? So it will stay in the bottle with the top duct taped both on shut and to the top of the bottle. Nobody was in the room; they were taking a hike my physical disabilities made very challenging (like an 7-8/10 for me, and a 3.4.5/10 for them) over broken terrain and off trail a bit to climb to a waterfall, so I had said ‘I’m going to the spa. Peace!’ So nobody was back from the hike yet, but I had no idea when they would be, so I acted fast. I grabbed my duct tape and went into sister and BIL’s room and squished and squiggled my way as far under the bed as I could, an duct taped the linen bag of herbs and scrapings right under where he would lay his head to rest at night (according to his ‘Alpha Wolf’ status, he was always on the side of the bed between the door and the rest of his collectables in his room.
We had that day, two more days, and three nights left. BIL did not sleep a wink during that entire time - he had housekeeping change the bedding (including duvets and their covers) several times in that small frame of time, and demanded of my mom to rent him (on my moms dime, not this 40 y o mans money, the mooching leach, but her carefully budgeted money and visa card points hoarded over years.) his own, just perfectly sanitized room, obviously something had been left here by a former guest that was rotting. Finally, FINALLY my mom and sister had HAD IT. He whined and moaned more than my four yo niece. They finally ripped him a new one, saying he had been acting like an entitled baby man with delusions he is more important than he is, that we as women should fawn over him, and that he had already ruined all of ours, but especially my vacation by tossing my personal property and screaming at me for wearing perfume when I didn't even pack any. At one point I even piped up, ‘I didn’t put up with my father treating me like this, what makes you think I’m gonna take it from you?’ (AN/OP: my father abused me and mom and sister our whole lives. Lots of verbal, emotional, psychological abuse. Sister had it pretty literally; mom had it worst. But when my dad had 100% custody of me at beginning of divorce, my sister went away to college and moved out within the following two weeks, and I was his sole remaining target. For three years straight. Other, even more horrible disgusting things he did to me I’ve only just started to talk about, and don’t want my whole life blasted online while I deal.
So i got my silent, sweet-smelling revenge. For those 3 days and 3 nights, he didn't sleep a wink, which meant he couldn't keep his 'good guy' image up, and everyone saw how he treats me, and I'm no longer a liaexaggerating. I hope some act of God, or him driving around while completely wasted, as he does every single freaking day. He a waste of space, a waste of oxygen.
Again, the reason this is so long is because 1.) I suck at summarizing 2.) backstory of some sort was needed 3.) I’m not a good storyteller, but you are, Charlotte, and I know you can take this mess of info and turn it into a beautiful, long-time-coming, petty revenge story for your channel. Because what is more petty than an herbal, flowery Trojan horse type thing?
PS: he never did repay me for the OVER $300 worth of MY STUFF he upped and just tossed, or first broke then tossed, because it either offended his nose or him, personally, even though he begrudgingly promised to do so, and my sister promised he would. I only had like a 10% belief he would, but he has no money of his own, how was he gonna do that? Yes, I admit, I keep a record of anything I hear about him doing something negative, so one day if my sister even starts to consider divorce, I can whip out journal/notebook and show her his patterns, and he has always been this way, and he won’t ever change.

Hi, so my title is a simplified version of what happened. When I was 6, my mother and I moved to California from Canada. My dad and sister stayed in Canada along with our extended family on both sides. I'm not really close to them since I've lived in the states most of my life. I'm in my 40s now.
I married and moved 400 miles away from my mom because my husband wanted to be with his family. I asked my mom to move closer but she liked her home. I became really close to my in-laws, especially my mother in law.
After I had my second child, my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer. With no family in the states and having just gone back to school, I flew to bring her to chemo for two years while being a house wife and full time med student.
When my mom passed, I suffered ptsd and also had major depressive disorder and anxiety that was going untreated. A month or two later, my husband decided he couldn't hang anymore. He moved out and filed for divorce leaving me with the kids. We had a very long, difficult divorce, and his family understandably stuck by his side.
I was left caring for two Littles, myself, and school with no income or support. My life just fell into a deep pit. This was 7 years ago.
I finished school, I started a private practice, I can make it work just barely financially now. My life turned around but sometimes, I just feel like I'm free falling. Like nobody is there to catch me, or care for me, or lend a couch to crash on should I need it.
When does that feeling fade? I feel like it's too much pressure to put on friends, so I keep to myself when I'm down. I don't want to get married again because I was so surprised and hurt about how my ex husband handled our split. I can't handle going through that again.
Thanks in advance for your advice.

Homunculi are made from sperm and other elements without the use of a womb. As such they start out with mature bodies. They start with basic knowledge as well as reasoning in order to serve basic functions in life. Due to all this, they were all effectively immortal and could never age.
A Homunculus has been created very recently. 3 weeks before the seventh servant has been summoned.
Scientist: We have done it! This one! His mana is through the roof! He should be able to win the only grail war no issue!
The homunculus looked at his own hand in disappointment. His name was… Soule.
Soule: I exist to be trusted into a war? Just to give these freaks the powers they wish?
The ones who brought Soule into this world were a group known as “Command” They’ve been trying to enter the holy grail war whenever it happens and win to gain the famous holy grail itself. Yet they either couldn't enter or had their master representative killed.
Soule was created to be a perfect endless pool of mana that would make sure they win. 7 hours after Soul’s complete birth he killed everyone in the lab he was born into.
Soule would find himself in a city. He just walked and walked the uncaring people who passed him but without a second thought, the animals that would shit and piss along what should be a nice concrete sidewalk, and the children who cried at the smallest inconvenience. It all was so foul. Soule hated life already.
7 days before the summoning of the servant servant Soule stood alone in a house filled with the bodies of a crushed 3 person family.
Soule: I summon you, servant. I need you now to follow his goals! YOU WILL SERVER UNDER ME FOR THIS WAR YOU UNDERSTAND?! NOW APPEAR!
And like a call in the great unknown, the unknown answered back with a bright light that went away revealing a talk demonic looking man.
???: I have been summoned… I am Ivan The Terrible your Rider class servant. Do not test me just because you're my master or-
Soule: Or what? You'll kill me? I think you and I both know that you don't want that to happen!
Rider: You dare disrespect me! I shall crush your face in if you keep disrespecting me!
Soule: Wow such a terrible liar! Listen here, you disgusting bastard! My one and only goal is the downfall of all life!
Rider: Then why even bother with this war?
Soule: It's simply a means to an end! I want to know my limits before I kill all on this planet. Is that so hard to understand?
Rider: Very well then. I have few objections to your foolish goal so long as I can have the grail in the end!
Soule: Hey I don't really care! I want to kill all life more personally than wishing them away anyway!
Rider: I can only imagine what spurs such hate in a heart.

Leo: OK time for me to go to school!
Ky: Leo you can't!
Leo: And why not?
Saber: Leo I can not demanifest, unlike other servants due to your low mana. I can't protect and watch over you in school. So you may be attacked by a master while I'm away.
Ky: Plus School isn't that important anyways.
Leo groaned as he did want to go to school to meet up with his friends. He felt as if this stupid war had concerned every aspect of his life.
Saber: I apologize for this inconvenience master…
Leo: That's it!
Ky: Huh?
Leo: Saber! We just gotta get you enrolled at my school!
Saber: Are you sure about this master…?
Ky: And he's lost it…
Leo: Yeah! You don't look any older than me!
Saber: I highly doubt it will be that easy-

Leo’s school at first period. It was that easy.
Saber and Leo sat directly next to one another. Saber not really wanting to be here in this school as a student even if it was to protect Leo.

Standing on top of the school were Soule and Rider. Soule smiled as he placed his hand in a strange sign.
Soule: Ready?
Rider: Yes.
Soule: Summon!
A black Vail appeared around the school almost like a curtain and several skeletons spawned inside the school with various bladed weapons. And then a wyvern spawned appeared behind Soule.
Rider: A wyvern!? That shouldn't be possible! Especially by today's standards!
Soule: My my… I'm just full of surprises!

Meanwhile, Saber and Leo were in the school, and people began passing out. Leo and Saber both got worried and Leo was the first to see the semi-translucent dark veil around the school.
Saber: A Vail! Damn it! A mage must be behind this!
Leo: A mage?!
Saber: A mage is most likely currently awake, unlike the rest of the school! Come on we must hurry!
Leo: Alright! Saber!
She transformed into her armor and held her misty blade tight. The two run off into the way to long and large school hallways. They soon spot a few skeletons trying to attack unconscious students and staff so Saber cuts a few down and Leo destroys the rest with a few punches.
Leo: The heck were those?!
Saber: Seemingly some kind of monsters summoned by whoever has done this master!
Leo: OK then! I think we should try the-
Just then to cut the young boy off Soule and Rider crash through the ceiling. The rubble crushed some of the staff and students to death.
Soule: We found Saber and her master now Rider!
Rider: Killing you will be worth it…
Saber: Master stay back!
Leo: No way I can't leave you to fight alone I'm helping!
Soule: Look at the worthless feelings they share. I suppose the rift raft being as sorry as it is would all group up and care for one another! Rider kill Saber!
Rider charged forward his staff slamming Saber through a few walls into the science room. The demonic servant charged forward with great strength but before Leo could help his servant he received a major kick to the face from Soule.
Soule: Oh no you don't!
Soule then eagerly kicked Leo to the ground and tried to stomp his skull in but the young teen managed to roll out the way.
Soule: Are you done with your silly caring shit? If so fight me! Cuz if you don’t~
Soule’s Wyvern busted through the school’s entrance and into where Soule and Leo were currently.
Soule: You'll die!
Leo: A dragon?!
The Wyvern bit down at Leo who held its jaws open for a moment before Soule appeared behind him transforming the wyvern into a sword that flew straight into his hands to stab Leo in the side of his chest.
Leo: Ow fuck fuck fuck!
Soule would then kick him in the leg before grabbing him by the hair and throwing him into the ceiling above or what was left of it.
Leo was spurring our blood trying to get a moment to grab ahold of his bearings something that Soule shocking would allow.
Soule: See what I mean?~

We cut to Saber and Rider fighting. Rider shoots out several electrical bolts from his staff as fast as lighting Saber easily manages to dodge.
Saber: A nice try Ruder but you'll need to try harder than that!
In all honesty, Saber was worried for her master. The master alongside Rider seemed entirely different from anything she felt before.
Rider: You fight well Saber I can give you that!
Rider would run up and give a surprise uppercut! She spat out a small bit of blood before two lighting shots appeared from his staff blasting Saber into some equipment she threw at Rider on impulse. The equipment didn't hurt him yet it turned into smoke creating a smoke screen for Saber to roll behind Rider and stab him through and back. Yet Rider filled his entire body with electricity that flew through Saber’s sword and shocked the blonde woman herself before an elbow knocked her to the ground.
Saber: Ugh…

We see Leo standing up as Soule walks through his blood on the floor.
Soule: You see brat? You're gonna die. Not like it matters though! After all, life doesn't have a meaning!
He tried to cut off Leo’s head but he ducked under and punched him in the gut making Soule stumble back. Soule tried to kick Leo but he grabbed his leg and twisted it making him fall over onto his face before Leo slammed him into a nearby wall!
Leo then began smashing around the skilled mage all over the place faster and faster! Stronger and stronger! Until Soule cut off his own leg! To hop away from Soule using his one remaining leg while his old one regenerated!
Soule: Rider!
Rider hears his master's calls so he runs toward him at top speed before scooping him up.
Rider: Fine then Soule we leave! Next time Saber! You're dead!
Soule: Until next time we curse each other! You brat!
Soule opened a portal that Rider jumped through and it immediately closed behind him. Saber stumbled out of the science room and over to her master.
Saber: Leo are you alright?
Leo: No…

General Ideas
We have two general policies: large game events will typically not be canonized, and quests were done by someone, but not necessarily the Last Dragonborn. The LDB did do the main questline and Dragonborn DLC, but only the bare minimum to complete those questlines was absolutely done by the LDB. Not only that, but 200 years later most of what happened does not matter.
Who was the LDB?
Unknown and largely irrelevant. Their true identity will never be touched on.
What happened to the LDB?
They vanished at some point after the events of Skyrim during the Silver Plague. Their fate will never be touched on, except for...
The cult of Ysmir
The LDB has been canonized as an incarnation of Ysmir, the Dragon of the North, who will take the place of his father Shor in the next kalpa. Other incarnations include Wulfharth and Talos.
The Dragon Monks practice a form of neo-Ysmirism, where the LDB is regarded as an incarnation of Ysmir alongside Miraak, Talos, Alduin, Odahviing, and Paarturnax. This interpretation sees Ysmir as the son of Kyne and ShoAld, the worldly subgradient of his parents. The neo-Ysmirism of the monks is the last trace of Talos-as-a-god in Tamriel.
Other cults
Other non-Nord cults may have their own take on the metaphysical identity of the Dragonborn. Freehold Xarxians may think then an incarnation of Xarxes, someone may identify them with Martin, etc.
What happened to Paarthurnax?
Schrodinger's Paarthurnax is in full effect. No fate for Paarthurnax is or ever will be canonized. He will never appear in the setting, and can be treated as either alive or dead. The number of people who even know about him in the setting is very small, and none of them are talking.
How did the Civil War end?
The Civil War was a military stalemate until a peace treaty was negotiated at High Hrothgar by the LDB. After this, it became a game of political maneuvering that rapidly became irrelevant due to the Second Great War, the Silver Plague, and the collapse of Skyrim.
The College of Winterhold
In the present day, the College of Old Winterhold is the Commonwealth's primary magical and academic institution, having regained the trust of the populace. The College's largest courses include Restoration, Alchemy, Enchanting, and more mundane, physical sciences. Often regarded as hidebound and traditional by Tamriel's magical community, the College is the only institution with a good sense of research ethics, focusing on the practical effects and implementation of their research.
The Companions
During the Silver Plague, the Companions of Whiterun split. Many fled the city to the wilderness, while those with lycanthropy stayed. Today, the descendants of the Companions include the Hunt of Jorrvaskr, the Silver Companions, and the Dragon Monks.
The Dark Brotherhood
Was allegedly destroyed by the Penitus Oculatus, yet assassinated Emperor Titus Mede II shortly after. Believed to have been eradicated for good.
The Thieves Guild
Likely widespread across Tamriel, with as many gangs, branches, and methodologies as could be imagined. Skyrim's Nocturnal cult likely still exists, hiding in the shadows of the North.
The Volkihar and Dawnguard
Both still likely exist in some form. Harkon is dead, Serana has vanished, and her fate will remain untouched.
Are Greater Wrothgar & Karth and the Snow-Throat Commonwealth results of the Imperial-Stormcloak split?
No. Both nations were formed as the result of political, military, and economic decisions made during and after the Silver Plague.

I read a quote recently that said “if you want something be the type of person who has it.” So, for example, if you would like to receive love letters, be the type of person who writes them. If you would like to be invited to parties, be the type of person who hosts them, so on and so forth.
I’m trying, still, after two years to process the grief of losing you and to process the grief of all that was lost during our relationship, including pieces of my innocence and my dignity, pieces, I dare say, I will never be able to recover. You hurt me in the worst ways imaginable yet still I can’t hate you. I won’t. Everybody says that I should and that whatever love I have fantasized in my head towards you is merely the limerence that results from Stockholm Syndrome. An obsession one would hold towards a hateful caregiver in an infantilized state.
Though, I’m not so sure. I am loathe to believe the love I hold towards you is fetishized grief. I am hoping that by putting these letters out into the void I will gain some temporary relief from the pain of your absence, at the least, and at most I will begin to build a bridge over that dark and glowering moat of grief that has kept me tethered to the past, tethered to the abusive and turbulent relationship which left me with nothing but debt to be repaid by a wandering life of pain, misery, and an emptiness never to be filled by love in the same way.
Oh how I admired you, oh man of mine. How I wanted to grasp onto every word that came out of your mouth when you were discussing your ideas. How your poems, though a little prose-like and robotic, made me sink faster into the pit of infatuation. I was in love with you. Obsessed. I wish I could have recorded the sound of your voice when you talked about science. I wish I could have mended the pain of your abandonment in adolescence. I wish I could have been the support you needed even when you pushed me away and put me down. I wish I could have healed the parts of you that were so broken to make you believe that stealing from me would somehow fill your empty cup.
But you cut off the bottom of the glass and no amount of debauchery could ever leave you more full than you were before. No amount of purity stolen from me could mend the agony you had held onto for far too long.
I am still left wondering, now, without you even by my side to soothe the wounds you had inflicted, why you chose me to steal from? Was everything really as you said? Was I too unlovable for the mistakes I had made in the past? Hadn’t I more than atoned for them with everything you had put me through? Was I really someone you loathed, who you couldn’t rest easy with at night? Was I really such a burden because I was too nervous around the crowds you chose to surround us with at the nightclubs or too sheepish about my femininity to ever be as sexy as you wanted? Where is the line? What was real and what was fake? Was there anything you liked about me at all, or did you just enjoy the joy and admiration I had for you?
When will my lonely heart stop pining over someone who hates me? If you hated me so, why didn’t you simply leave? Why did you always persuade me back into staying with your sweet words and your grand gestures?
I would say I miss you, but to miss someone is to know them truly and be abashed by their absence. I don’t know you anymore so I can’t miss you. Did I ever know you?
Part of my life has come full circle and now I am starting to wonder if any of it was ever real? The memories are so fleeting and time has warped along with everything around it. I feel alone in this universe. Nothing feels real. Were we just a dream? A requiem for a nightmare? Did any of it ever happen? Why has it all just faded into a distant memory, seared like a firestone against the forefront of my subconscious?
How are you? Do you think this way too? Why did you hurt me so much that I had no choice but to leave? Was I really so reprehensible?
Or, was it you whom you hated for your inability to love someone who had given everything to be with you?
All I know is that you I didn’t deserve to be discounted and discarded the way I was. I may never be able to recover some of the innocence I lost while we were in it, but my heart, with each passing day, still feels mightily pure. Your hatred did not win, and my love for you does not cease.
From M. To J.

Backstory... I (29M) met this girl (26F) whilst travelling last month and we really hit it off the night before I had to fly out. We stayed up drinking and chatting until sunrise and eventually hooked up.
After flying out we maintained contact and quickly our conversation evolved into big messages about all different things we were into etc. Little bit of flirting here and there as well. We had agreed before I left that we'd catch up again in her home country in July/August and have made plans on what we'll do together.
For about 4 weeks we had maintained really good contact and would message about 2-3 times a day. Then I noticed she started taking longer to reply and wouldn't message as much during the day. I figured because she's still travelling that she's definitely not on her phone during the day. However, there were a few occasions when I wouldn't hear from her for 2-3 days, but I didn't pay much attention to it. Then she went silent for 5 days and when she finally messaged back she hadn't apologised or anything and just picked up the conversation where we left off. Normally I'd think an explanation or something would be courteous, but I could be wrong I don't know.
Now it's happened again and I haven't heard from her in 5 days. Also I've noticed she's not liking my instagram stories (or even viewing them) like she was doing so frequently in the first few weeks after meeting. I'm just so confused because if she were losing interest, I still don't know why when she does reply they are still long messages and she's still asking me questions as well. I just don't know that I could ever understand how someone could go 5 days without sending a quick message. No one can be that busy surely.
Can someone please tell me if I'm overthinking or if there's something I'm missing here?

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

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

[You can see my first post in my profile]
Hello all, it’s been about a year since I informed you of what’s going on in my family, thank you all for the support, and to those who are against me, congratulations, you attacked someone on Reddit, happy? You literally did nothing to my spirit or opinions on this matter, so now you just look stupid. First of all, I’d like to clear some things up before I begin. 1. I DID NOT show the explicit pictures of my wife or her lover to my children (which I said in my first post, but people seemed to ignore it). I only showed them the screenshots of her flirting with her coworker, and the messages were not sexual, it was only her saying things like “I love you” and “my husband is so stupid for not noticing”. 2. The reason I rushed to tell my children so quickly is because I know my wife. And she would 110% try to shift the story so that they think I cheated on her, hence why I also took screenshots. I was worried she had already gotten to my daughters before she left for work, but fortunately she must have forgot in her haste and panic. She also tried to convince our friends and family that I was the one who cheated, but the screenshots saved me from that. Now the only people that are on her side, are her two best friends, and the coworker she cheated with. 3. While I didn’t say this before, I’ve tried very hard not to make my daughters hate my wife. While I personally hate her, and am completely over her. I still want my daughters to have their mother in their lives, and they have warmed up to her again quite a bit. 4. The reason I let my wife take my daughters is because I needed some time alone. And while I hate her with a passion now, I know the kids are safe with her, as she loves them more than life. Now, onto the update.
My lawyer served her the papers and she immediately broke down crying and called me over 100 times. Asking if I was serious and that she’s so sorry, and not to do this to her, not to do this to our family. Apparently she thought she still had a chance to get back together with me, are you kidding me? So I told her that it’s completely over, and what she did was unforgivable, and I hung up on her. She then tried to call me almost every hour on the dot, and I’ve ignored every single one. I have gone over to see my daughters whenever I could, but refused to go to her parents house when she was there. Luckily, her parents are on my side, and the only reason she hasn’t been thrown out is because she’s their daughter, and they still love her. I’ve signed my daughters up for joint therapy so they can talk to somebody about this if they need to. (thank you to all who suggested it) Everyone in my family and hers is shocked at how fast I got over her, but it’s natural for me. It’s just the way I think, I hate her, but I figure, if she didn’t love me, I shouldn’t love her. I may have gotten over her, but I’m still upset about my situation, my life is falling apart, but I have people on my side, and it softens the fall. My brother has invited me to go drinking with him and his friends, and I’ve had a great night every time. I even got drunk and slept with one of his friends, Kayla. Afterward, she asked me on a date, but I told her I’m not quite ready for that yet, she understood and we had breakfast together. I honestly really like her, and I feel that in the long run, she would be a good partner and a good stepmother to my daughters. But I’m not sure anyone is ready for that yet, so I’m holding off, but at some point, I’d like them to meet Kayla. My in-laws keep trying to tell me about how my wife is doing, and I keep telling them I don’t want to hear about her. They do get disappointed, because they’ve always really liked me, and probably don’t want our marriage to end. My brother has also come by to see me more often, sometimes Kayla and his friends come with him, I won’t lie, I enjoy the company. As for my job, I’m the owner of my own local cleaning company. While I have a lot of paperwork to do, I can do it all from home, so none of this interferes with my work schedule. I’ve spoiled my daughters rotten since then, every time I came over, I brought them some candy or a new toy. Not to try and keep them on my side, but because it’s a rough time for them, and they deserve it. As a whole, I thought my marriage ending would be the worst experience of my life, but the truth is, I’ve never felt better. I met a great woman, I still get to see my kids and have them in my life, and my ex is still in shambles because of this. I hate to admit it, but I would love to see how she’s dealing with this. I’ll update you all again when there’s more to talk about, sorry about that, this is just more of a rant about how much better my life is now instead of an update on my family. But for now, me and my daughters are happy, and until the next time I update you, I hope it stays this way.

Does anyone else sometimes just sit and take in everything that the Q’ers believe and just… 🤯 Like we know it’s crazy, we get that. But when I really have a moment of thinking of all of the things they believe/d, I cannot comprehend how they are just walking around and majority appear to be normal functioning humans. I mean, we have reptilians, skin suits, anything red means child pervs, elites stealing hundreds and thousands of children yearly and doing horrible things to them and consuming adrenochrome, nesara, trump is our savior, JFK is still alive and has been playing the long game and will be VP, finding hidden meaning in numbers with literally everything, white hats are killing off the perv elites in secret and having tribunals but we will get to eventually see the tribunals of their deaths on tv once this is all “out”, Biden is dead and this is an actor, Covid vax was to make us gay/murder us/implant trackers, they would forgive literally anything trump did or does no matter how awful, god anointed trump and is the one playing the long game using trump as his earthly self, and they can’t wait for this to all come out and be done so that all the non believers will be tortured and die. And that’s not a full list obviously, but how are these people functioning?! Do they already believe this? The world is shitty enough without their stories, why do they need to have it all be so bad??

I just need to vent and don't know who to vent to so sorry for the super long, dramatic post. I guess I'm sharing my "story" in case it makes someone feel less alone, because I'm hoping to feel that way. I guess I'm also hoping for advice. :)
Growing up, my father was physically/ emotionally/ verbally abusive. The physical stuff was only when I was very young, it fizzled out as I grew up. But the other stuff was so brutal. The general overview was that I was the scapegoat from a very early age. My older brother had some special needs/ emotional issues so a lot of my parents' energy went to him and my younger sister was the baby of the family, the favorite, often leaving me on the outskirts. Any attention I did get was purely negative. I think as a child I harbored some resentment towards the two of them, as unfair as it is. I know as an adult it wasn't their fault and I truly feel I've moved past it. However the effects of only ever experiencing negative attention from my parents are horrible.
I was taught at such a young age that I was bad, that there was something truly, devastatingly wrong with me, and therefore I caused all of the tension and fighting in the house. My father had a hard day at work, it was my fault when he took it out on everyone. My siblings got in a fight, it was my fault for causing the bad moods. If I retaliated while being attacked (physically or verbally), it was viewed as an isolated incident, an uncalled for, uncontrollable temper. When I did mess up or misstep, it only made it worse. Everyone else was infallible, while my mistakes were ammunition, weaponized as evidence.
I remember knowing something was wrong but not having the language for it. I was too young to understand and by the time I got older and had the capacity to communicate what was happening to me, the manipulation ran so deep that I didn’t think words like “abuse” applied to my situation. I so deeply believed that I was bad and terrible and every other horrible thing they called me that I thought it was my fault. The physical stuff had subsided, so isn’t it my fault that they yell?
I figured out how to keep myself safe eventually. Stay out of the way. Stay in your room. Don’t make noise. Don’t cross their paths. Don’t have any wants or needs. If you overhear slamming or yelling, hold your breath, make yourself smaller, pray it subsides before they remember you’re there. It didn’t always work, but I did my best. The only way I got through was counting down the years until I finished high school and I could get out. Though sometimes that number provided more dismay than comfort.
It wasn’t until I graduated high school that I realized what it was. My parents split up at the end of my senior year and it was the first time I heard someone else use the word. My mother. I remember when the word “abuse” passed her lips. Some part of me found it to be obvious, another part of me was destroyed. Nothing was the same after that. I had already experienced such a tumultuous upbringing and now I had to re-experience it under the lens of abuse. It was like it happened twice.
The first year was really strange. My father was overly nice, overly welcoming, trying to forge a connection we’d never had. My mother was apologetic, trying to rebuild something that never was. My father was afraid I’d testify and my mother… I suppose she felt guilty for never stepping in. I don’t know what I felt. Confused. Angry. Hurt. I knew my parents had been strict and unkind, but downright abusive? It made sense but I didn’t want it to.
My anxiety was really bad. With my father out of the house, all of my repressed memories started coming back to me. I was having nightmares every night. I started having panic attacks. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Every minute awake was spent in an anxiety attack (with the occasional panic attack) and every minute asleep was filled with nightmares. This went on for about two months. I lost about 30 pounds.
This was also during quarantine, so my family was stuck at home together. My mother and I didn’t have the kind of relationship where we could talk to one another so she assumed I was completely fine. My siblings were always welcome to come to her so she knew they were having a hard time with it, so her attention and compassion went to them. When I started having panic attacks, I talked to her, hoping for some kind of help or support. Instead I was brushed off.
Summe fall of that year was when things started to deteriorate once more. My mother was angry and I was the recipient. Every word that left her mouth about me was negative, whether it was to me or to someone else. My mere presence and existence were enough to set her off. Just like as a child, it was all on me. Everyone’s anger, everyone’s moods, all of the fighting and yelling. It was all on me again. But I was angry too. I had just realized my father had abused me my entire life and that my mother had stood by while it happened. Not only that, but she was a participant my whole childhood. I know it’s not fair to blame her. If my father was like that with my siblings and I, I can only imagine what else was going on. But I was a child. She was an adult. As a woman, I have so much empathy for her. As her child, I didn’t know how to forgive her, especially when she was continuing the cycle even after my dad left.
The year I was 19 was filled with constant anger and flights, I always had to be on guard, ready for anything. Her threatening to kick me out was nothing new, but now that I was old enough to be on my own, it felt so much more real. It also felt so unjustified. I’d yell back when I was being yelled at. I was bad about keeping up with my chores. But there wasn’t a single instance that felt worthy of throwing me aside. Yet she held shelter and stability over my head every chance she got. I was attending community college classes and working part time, saving up as much as I could in case she followed through.
We lost our house that year, moved to an apartment. Tensions only grew worse. My mom was more stressed out than ever and I was more of a target than ever. I worked two jobs, attended classes. I was never home, never asked for anything, paid for all of my own things, never engaged with her. And yet…
I was 21 when it finally happened, after years of being threatened with it. I was a semester away from finishing my degree, still working two jobs, still staying out of the way. My older brother and I were told my mother and sister were moving at the end of the week and we were not welcome to join. The lease on our current apartment ended in two months and we were welcome to stay if we covered the bills, but after that, we were on our own. No help.
My brother was 24, two years into a full time job, tens of thousands of dollars saved away. While still obviously a horrible situation, he’d be okay. But me? I know 21 is an adult but I was still in school. Yes I worked two jobs but they were still part time, and almost all of my income was spent on school, gas, groceries, and bills. At this point, I was a few months into no contact with my father. When my mother told me this, we didn’t speak for months. We eventually got back in touch, but it's not a proper connection.
The hardest part was that I was alone. There was no family I could stay with, no friends able to take me in, no one to help me find a place or help me understand my finances and my options. The tuition for my last semester of school was $5,000. I would be student teaching in the mornings and working all afternoon and weekends. I’d have to make enough money to fully cover all of my bills and necessities while spending 20 hours a week student teaching, completely unpaid, on top of all of my other classes. I didn’t have much in savings since I had to spend most of my income to get by, which meant I couldn’t afford a security deposit or movers or furniture or first/ last month's rent. I lived in an expensive area where even a studio was $2,000/ month minimum, and that’s before utilities and everything else. I didn’t see how I could make it work. I didn't know anyone I could room with and moving with strangers was a last resort. I spent those two months trying to figure it out, trying to accept the very real, tangible possibility of homelessness.
Eventually, I found a place. My grandparents help me with part of my rent. I work three jobs. I had to drop out of school. I’m not in touch with my parents. I’m 22 now. Being on my own, I feel a bit better. Not having to live in constant fight or flight, not having basic necessities held over your head, not being hated and terrorized just for existing… It's so peaceful. I’m stressed about money and my future, but it feels so much more approachable now. I hate my circumstances but for the first time in my life, I have a will to keep going.
That being said, it’s also so difficult. Seeing people my age close to their families, having a home and people to go back to, getting to graduate college supported by loved ones (financially or otherwise), only just now starting their adult lives… It's hard. A better person would be happy for them, and deep down I am, but I’m also so jealous. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to finish my degree. I don’t want to take out loans with no way to pay them back. Yes I’m working three jobs, but the cost of living is so immense, just about every cent goes to bills, rent, and necessities. I don’t see a way out but I want to find one. I don’t want my parents to get to rob me of my dreams in life when they’ve already taken so much from me. I’ll never be the person I could’ve been if I grew up with love and support, but I don’t want that to stop me.
I know this is an impossibly long post. I just needed to vent and get things off of my chest. But if anyone reading this has any advice, I’d love to hear it. I know 22 is an adult, I know I should be more put together than this, people are in my situation so much younger and they figure it out, but I just feel so lost. I want to finish school. I don’t want to barely get by while working 3 jobs. I want a family. I don’t know what to do.

Far away in the past I decided to give all, not just my heart and I sent my soul in a trip where it might be not return, During that long journey my heart has been alone, with no connection was easy to decieve, to hurt and to broke. Even when my soul feels the pain knows that, the wish of my heart is the same. Walking and going and tired to look is feeling defeated and mistook. But rarely it's able to feel traces of a connection, like a fresh breeze who keeps you in the same direction.
And my heart and my soul are one at that moment, waiting and hoping to finally find a home bounding so fast in a grav than I can't help but to give all the love I have.
Those connections are meant to be, they are safe spaces for my soul to rest, Kind and warm like a house that brings shelter but never the home who they hope to settle.
They teach me about another kind of love, one that it keeps me going on so, before my soul continues this path, leaves a thread so always can come back. And my heart had the job to understand, that is not the kind of love it yearn It is painful, and I can't deny it. However, we choose to let go of it every time we discern.
Slowly I understand that I will keep looking maybe, without finding anything, but the hope still remains alive making my heart steadying.
And that's how I became a hopeless romantic, and that's why my heart is broken so easly, Because when I love someone with a shared connection not always find the home I hope naively, but my heart and my soul accept that kind of love and offered it back with no regrets or bounds but with honesty of all above
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Hi. I have not written anything in a while so if this is choppy, bear with me.
I’m nonbinary (AFAB) and use any pronouns. Your age or gender or country doesn’t matter to me. I love speaking to people very different than me.
I have suffered from a lot of anxiety and avoidant behaviors most of my life, which led to me being a shut-in internet addict for years pre-COVID. In my adult life now, I find it very difficult to connect with others. But I love people, I love observing their little quirks. I love getting to know their stories, I often wonder about their inner dialogue and dreams and all the experiences they’ve had that led them to the same place and time as me.
But anyway, I’m very much a late bloomer and I’ve only been integrating back into society for about 3 years now. I’ve made lots of progress, and friends of some sort. But I feel very lonely. I mistook this for a different loneliness and threw myself into romantic relationships. I’ve realized that, the entire time I just needed friends. I just craved connection. To be seen. To see. Real connections, that are intentional.
Everyone in my social circle seems to be fixated on Twitter and the idea of “mutuals”, preoccupied with dating apps and the latest situationship. I adapted to this, but I find myself always feeling empty, and lately that doesn’t feel like enough to me.
I crave something different. I crave something sweeter, something intentional, something wholesome. I want to feel like apart of it all. I know the life I could live, I know the capacity for connection I could have, I know it’s out there.
I use to read my grandmas letters and postcards often, and I’ve always wanted to do the same. I find it so sweet that two humans in different places take the time and effort to tell each other about their lives and what they’ve seen, and send little photos. It’s beautiful.
With that being said, I’ll tell you a bit about me so maybe we can have common interests to build off of.

• I’m a self taught musician. I never performed beyond for friends and family, it’s more of a therapeutic thing for me. I have been asked to play for my best friend’s wedding though, which is very scary. I’ve played guitar for over a decade, I love trying to pick up other instruments too.
• I enjoy music a lot. I use to collect records, and would one day like to get back into it. Some of my favorite artists currently are Adrianne Lenker, Faye Webster, Indigo De Souza, Boygenius, Julia Jacklin. I love finding new music, and making playlists. I’d love to eventually burn CDs and make physical playlists for people I’m close to.
• I don’t watch a whole lot of film, but some of my favorites are After Hours, A portrait of a Lady on Fire, and I really enjoyed Love Lies Bleeding. I’m currently watching the series Normal People.
• I don’t read and haven’t in a long time, however I want to change this. I have a list of books I’d like to read.
• I work nightshift, a very repetitive and menial postal job.
• I love nature but stay inside way too often because my avoidance with being perceived by others and living in a city. When I lived in a rural town, I loved being outside. I’d really like to push myself to go to parks, hiking, lakes.
• I enjoy learning about “practical” and handy things. I use to go to welding school and enjoyed it very much. I did a construction pre-apprenticeship too. There’s a lot that I don’t know but it’s an interest of mine. I love learning about the trades and how we sustain our shelters. I love architecture and landscaping and spaces that feel beautiful to be in. I also have a special interest in learning about the construction of cob houses, and would LOVE to do a workshop one day.
• I love learning overall, about anything. But I’d really like to learn how to garden and cook. I also bake from time to time, but haven’t in a while due to housing insecurity.

Anyway, I can’t think of much else and I feel this is already a bit lengthy for an introductory post. If you feel the same, and like we may have some common interests, please reach out. Thank you :)

I do not ever want to say anything negative about a subreddit (or anything for that matter), with that said simpleliving has not been a great help. Maybe I have just asked at the wrong times who knows. But it does not really seem to be a subreddit with much of, if any dedication to dating or how people wanting to live simple lifestyles can meet. And that is totally fine.
I am on several dating apps. And I am very upfront about what I am looking for and who I am. I am 37 M US. I live with my parents. I am willing to move out into a new place with a girlfriend but as long as I am single, I will stay with my parents. I cannot afford nor do I have the desire to live on my own.
The first advice most people get is to go to meetups or hobby groups. I simply do not have those sorts of hobbies and I do not connect with people in that way. Online dating has not been productive. Cold approaching is hard in any circumstance. But perhaps when I am kind of looking for a different lifestyle it feels even harder. I have asked my tiny circle of friends and family if they know anyone I might be interested in dating. They did not have anyone.
I know that I am not a great match for most people. I am just having a hard time finding people that are ok with a simple lifestyle. Thank you all in advance.

Hey Everyone! I was working on the delayed chapters together in hopes of getting both of them out and over with at similar times. Crazy how long this chapter took to make (It was originally supposed to be the third!!) but I’m glad it was delayed so I could work on making it the best version it can be.
Completed Chapter 2s: Thearnt, Taland, Pascal, Harmony, Crowson, Asherah
(Next Chapter 2: Oukirii the Hunter)
Asherah the Chef, Chapter 2: Recommended Level 23
——————
(The Journey So Far…)
Asherah was separated from her home, in an avalanche that sent her falling to the bottom of the largest mountain in the realm…
She made it her mission to return home, and to climb the great mountain just like her mother did.
She felt stuck as to how, until she remembered a story she was told. About what her mother’s life was like before she climbed the mountain.
Asherah set out for Limesville, in an attempt to purchase the gear she needs to survive the climb home…
“So this is Limesville. Not what I imagined it would be, but it looks like a nice town.” Asherah says “I’d better get to the shop as soon as possible. Let’s get this over with.”
You’d head to the Limesville Weapons/Equipment Shop

• Travel Banter: A Heavy Drinker (Asherah and Pascal) Pascal notices Asherah seeming off put by Limesville, and asks her how different Snowmeet is from this town. Asherah says that “It’s hard to describe ‘home’ to an outsider. A lot colder than here though.” She continues to describe what the town is like. Pascal asks “Do you have an alehouse?” Asherah confirms, telling Pascal that they drink all the time. She’s become very good at stomaching a high level of alcohol. But she does have her moments, as she tells Pascal about a time where she and her friend Eden got very drunk.

Inside the shop, Asherah speaks to the Armorer. She’d ask if they sell any Climbing Gear, The Armorer looks puzzled, and tells her they haven’t sold Climbing Gear in years. Asherah sadly nods and leaves the shop with a dent in her mood.
Asherah is spotted by an older woman outside, she’d ask “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Asherah tells the woman that they don’t know each other, she just arrived in town just now, before trying to walk away…
“Wynona?” The woman calls out
“Hm?” Asherah turns around “Oh, you knew my mother?”
“You’re Wynona’s daughter?”
“Yes. My name is Asherah.”
The Woman eagerly walks over and shakes her hand “Call me Shelby! Your Mother and I used to work together at a restaurant here long ago. —Would you like to come see the old place?”
Asherah steps back. She’s hesitant, but the idea intrigues her enough to forget about the detour from her original goal.
You’d head to Shelby’s Bakery Restaurant

• Travel Banter: Persistence (Asherah and Orlando) Orlando applauds Asherah for still being willing to continue searching after finding that the shop doesn’t carry the climbing gear anymore. Asherah makes a remark that it “Runs in the family.” She teasingly continues “I could say the same for you.” Orlando asks if she’s referring to him persisting beyond death. Asherah replies “What Else?” Orlando changes the subject and asks her where she plans to look next. Asherah says she doesn’t know, but she’ll find some other town to look.
  
• Travel Banter: One True Cuisine (Asherah and Taland) Taland gets Asherah’s attention and asks her “If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?” Asherah asks if she’d be able to cook the food in any way, Taland confirms. She states that the best answer is potatoes. Taland wonders “Why Potatoes?” Asherah starts listing reasons, Including a variety of meal preparations, going great with any seasoning or dressing, and generally being healthy. Taland internally remarks that she’s still talking and it feels like they’ve been here for an hour.
  

Asherah and Shelby head into the kitchen, where Shelby begins to prepare a customer’s order. She strikes up a conversation with Asherah by talking about her and Wynona’s time here.
“You are putting way too much flour into that.” Asherah interrupts
“I’m sorry?” Shelby replies. Asherah asks if she can help out a little. She rolls up her sleeves and starts working. Shelby asks what Asherah is doing, She’d tell her what she was taught by her father. About adding and removing ingredients to make a dish have good balance. Not being afraid to experiment with food until it’s just right.
“Sweetie, you’re adding a lot to the bowl. We’ll lose business if we give our customers more than they paid for!”
Asherah says “Then how about you and I enjoy the leftovers of this one?”
Shelby swears “The way you talk, You’re nothing like your mother!”
Asherah pours out the food into a pan and throws it in the oven. Shelby and her would clean up and start on the next order. All while telling stories of Wynona and Sterling. Asherah talks about their life after getting together in Snowmeet, and how her name was chosen. Shelby would continue telling funny tales about her and Wynona’s experience back when they both worked in this very kitchen.
Shelby pulls the dish out of the oven and sets it down. Asherah waits a few seconds before taking one of Shelby’s knives and cutting up the pastry, saving some for the two of them. Fresh out of the oven, Asherah and Shelby both take a bite of their serving. Shelby compliments the taste and texture, She thinks it’s different and better than before. Asherah and Shelby take the rest of the food on a plate out to the dining area.
You’d leave the kitchen and head to serve a table

• Travel Banter: The Scent of Home (Asherah and Harmony) Harmony would remark about how sweet the place smells. It reminds her a lot of home. Asherah tells her that she understands what she means. Harmony would chatter on about how sweet and familiar “home” smells. Asherah giving witty responses to her observations. Harmony asks if Asherah is feeling alright, to which she responds that she is, she just can’t wait to see home again…

They’d head over to a young man’s table, “Nice to see you Cedric!” Shelby calls out. Cedric greets Shelby and begins to eat.
Cedric looks up from his food. “Excuse me, What’s your name?” he asks Asherah, with a bit of concern in his voice.
Shelby answers “This is Asherah… She’s the daughter of one of my dearest friends.”
“Ms. Asherah, may I take a look at your arm?”
Asherah realizes she had her cut exposed. She hides her sleeve. “It’s nothing.”
“I ain’t never seen that. Where did you get a cut like that from?” Shelby says
“Does it matter? I told you it’s nothing.” She pauses “It was nice meeting you Shelby but I think it’s time for me to go somewhere else and find this climbing gear.”
The restaurant door suddenly and loudly swings open. Shelby tells the other two to not mind the person coming in.
Another Chef, introducing himself as Chef Giles, enters and approaches them. “Heh. How’s your little bakery going Shelby?”
“It’s going great Giles. I’ve found a new recipe today.”
“A new recipe you say? Did this lovely lady teach you?”
“Back off.” Asherah scowls
Chef Giles proceeds to insult Shelby and her restaurant. Spouting on about his being better in every way. His words start to get to Cedric, Who stands up and tells him to leave. Shelby assures Cedric “Sweetie, He’s fine…” Chef Giles would walk over to Cedric. Asherah and Shelby stand back and observe as the two banter.
The confrontation ends with Chef Giles punching Cedric and knocking him out. Sending the entire restaurant into a shocked gasp. Chef Giles warns all of them not to bad-mouth his grand restaurant if they know what’s good for them. He would then drag Cedric away, nobody tries to intervene…
Shelby explains to Asherah that Chef Giles has been a bother for as long as she can remember. “Wynona hated his guts.” she says. Asherah asks about Cedric, to which Shelby replies that she doesn’t know what Giles plans to do with him. Asherah feels angry at Chef Giles and tells Shelby that she’ll go “talk” to him. She warns Asherah to be careful.
You’d Head behind Giles’ Restaurant, Asherah would find a cook standing outside, with the door left open. She knows this might be her only way in…
You’d ambush the cook and enter the restaurant.

• Travel Banter: Ambushing (Asherah and Crowson) Asherah asks Crowson “How did I do?” He's unsure of what she’s asking. Asherah clarifies she meant knocking out the guard, saying that it’s something Crowson sure would know a lot about. “That’s highly insensitive.” Crowson replies. Asherah apologizes and says she’ll stop talking about it if that’s what he wants. He doesn’t know how to answer.
  
• Travel Banter: That’s the Spirit! (Asherah and Thearnt) Asherah asks Thearnt what the problem is after noticing that she looked down. Thearnt tells her “Oh! Um– I’m– worried…” Asherah asks what she’s worried about, Thearnt tells her that she’s afraid of what Chef Giles will do, and that sneaking into his kitchens has her even more paranoid. Asherah tells Thearnt to relax and that someone like Giles is probably all bark and no bite. She promises to teach him a lesson, and gives Thearnt a little more confidence as they head in.
  

Luxurious Restaurant: Kitchens, Danger Level 23
Luxurious Restaurant: Kitchens, Danger Level 24
Asherah finds Cedric tied up by rope. “Asherah…?” He says trying to move, “Agh– It hurts a lot, …But I’ll live.”
Asherah begins to untie the rope, as footsteps are heard from the other direction. “You!” Chef Giles enters. “Well, if it isn’t this one… “
“Afraid you caught me Giles.” Asherah says, she looks back at Cedric “What did you need him for?”
“Hah, Just Business deals– Here, I’ll give you a reward. I can get you a nice job here, and I’ll even let him go too!”
“Not a chance.” Asherah pulls out her axe.
“Hey…” Cedric calls out
“Don’t think too much of it. I’m here to fight him, not save you.”
“Really now?” Chef Giles says
“You insulted my home and the very art of cooking. I want to teach you a lesson here Giles.”
“Chef on Chef eh? Do your worst, Bakery waste.”
BOSS: Chef Giles
(Boost Dialogue: I’m not wasting any more time Giles!)
Chef Giles is worn out from fighting, Asherah and Cedric are standing back. Suddenly, Giles shouts and charges forward. A prompt appears on screen…
(Ambush this person?)
Asherah smacks Chef Giles with her frying pan, and he’d fall to the floor unconscious. Cedric jumps, Asherah tells him that “He’ll wake up. He’s fine.”
The two of them exit the restaurant. Shelby rushes up to them, and asks Cedric if he’s alright. He confirms that he’s unharmed, She then asks the same question to Asherah. Cedric takes this moment to thank Asherah for rescuing him. Even if she said that didn’t matter to her. Asherah doesn’t respond.
Shelby tells Asherah that she has a warm heart under her cold exterior. “Well I hope it doesn’t burn me alive.” she replies.
Cedric speaks up “You said something about climbing gear earlier… right?”
“That’s right.” Asherah says
“Well, I happen to have a set back home. I’m not going to use it, and I’d be more than happy to give it to you!”
“That would be great.” She pauses “And– Where is your home at?”
“It’s… A little far away, in a town called ‘Eastport’ It's a city off the coast…”
“The coast, as in– the Beachlands?”
“Yes, just over there.”
“Right.” Asherah steps forward “I’ll meet you there I suppose.”
“Ms. Asherah!” Shelby shouts “When you do make it home again, can you pass along a message to your mother?”
Asherah agrees. Shelby would begin to write down a recipe, after giving it to Asherah, She’d say to tell her that all of Limesville missed her after she left. Asherah says she’ll try to remember that once she’s back home at Snowmeet. With that, She says her parting words to Cedric and Shelby and walks away…

• Travel Banter: Can I get a bite? (Asherah and Oukirii) Oukirii asks what Asherah is holding, Asherah tells her that she picked up some fruits from the village just before they left. Specifically highlighting some apples. Oukirii asks if she can have a bite of one, Asherah agrees and Oukirii eats a peice of it. “!” Asherah is shocked “What?” Oukirii says. “I said a bite you little snack thief!” Asherah says. Oukirii protests, Asherah responds “Your two bites was nearly a third of the apple!” Oukirii replies “Sorry Asherah, I can go find an apple tree if you want a new one?” Asherah laughs and tells Oukirii that she’s not that mad. “I’m not going to spend the rest of this journey fighting with a child.”

(Ending Text)
After meeting with her mother’s old friend, Asherah was put in the direct middle of a feud between chefs.
Chef Giles was left knocked out on the floor of his restaurant after attempting to kidnap Cedric.
Cedric offered to hand over some of his old climbing gear. Asherah now sets forward to the town of Eastport.
She anticipates a quick stop. However, she may find that it could take a while longer before she’s ready to climb back home…
——————
Asherah the Chef: Chapter 2, End.

These are the questions we have been trying to answer ever since we as a species first evolved the ability to ask such questions.
Let us first briefly consider our ability to voice those questions and how is it we can formulate any questions at all. There has been some discussion recently on how we in essence 'hallucinate' our reality. While this is true to a large degree, it would be more accurate to say that we 'read' our reality. We process the stimulus we receive from external world and then transform it into language through the neural dynamics found in our cortical thalamic complex.
As we develop and mature our cortical/thalamic complex gradually creates a VR type experience for our consciousness, so gradually we no longer see what arrives at our eyes but rather is what is constructed from the direct sensory experience in the occipital lobe of the cortex - our visual center. By the time we are adults our awareness can no longer directly perceive the external world. It can only see and hear the reprocessed reality as it is reconstructed from direct sensory stimulus, in our cortex. As adults we never see the outside world. We don't see the mountain. We only see the image of a mountain created in our visual cortex. Only when we encounter something that cannot be fit into any existing linguistic category do we see it before filtering and reconstruction within cortical visual centers.
We linguistically interpret and assign meaning to raw stimulus within our cortex which determines our subsequent response and behaviors. Under normal conditions if what we are experiencing cannot be translated into our existing vocabulary then we cannot act coherently and we will either freeze up or become completely uninhibited and out of control. The parsing of external reality into language is a reflex and it is normally beyond our ability to perceive this neurological process as it is occurring.
The answers to the nature of life, why we are born and die and how we can ask such things all lead to the same place and if one question is answered then all of them will be. Therefore I will begin with the nature of life itself. I will use one of the tools that western science adopted early in its history and that is dissection. Lets first dissect life and look at it in the detail that has been revealed throughout the hundreds of years we have been using this tool.
The first medical dissections were performed at the University of Salerno in about the 12 century. Now all these years later we have dissected much and we now have little pieces of everything lying around everywhere. Now we are dissecting some very large things and some very small things. Dissection reveals information contained or hidden beneath the perceptual paywall of physical boundaries like the biological membrane of the cell, or an organ like our skin or the boundaries of the earths gravity. What we see in the modern world is the result of centuries of dissection and reassembly.
Now after all the thousands of years of humans history there is one item that has been produced more times than any other single thing made by humans and their ancestors...transistors. Most people have no idea what this item is or how it works yet humans have made more of it than anything else by orders of magnitude. These things also require more electrical energy than anything else ever mass produced by humans to perform their function as intended. This is a result of a history of dissection and reassembly without any underlying worldview or morality to guide the technological exploitation of the discoveries uncovered through the process of dissection and analysis.
Now at the pinnacle of our evolution we have completely remade ourselves and the world and the results appear to be anything but enlightening and emancipating. We have server farms that are using the energy of a small city and space tourism is well on its way. Unfortunately during our history of dissection we have ignored certain things discovered that do not support the underlying ideology motivating our technological innovations. The problem hasn't been in the scientific process but in what aspects of what we have discovered that have been followed up and not relegated to the the dark shelves of history and ignored. Our cultures idea of progress and evolution as a driving force of nature may be entirely misplaced and as 'superstitious' as any of the other antiquated views our culture has abandoned and transcended along the way.

The long delay in accepting the evidence of developmental neuronal death has been regarded as an historical enigma. Here is how the puzzle may now be solved.
Nineteenth-century biologists saw that development has an overriding telos, a direction and a gradual approach to completion of the embryo, and also saw a terminal regression and final dissolution of the adult; but a fallacy arose when the progression and regression, which coexist from early development, were separated in their minds.
Development was conceived in terms of progressive construction, of an epigenetic program—from simple to more complex. For every event in development they attempted to find prior conditions such that, given them, nothing else could happen.
The connections and interdependencies of events assure that the outcome is always the same. Such deterministic theories of development made it difficult to conceive of demolition of structures as part of normal development, and it was inconceivable that construction and destruction can occur simultaneously. It became necessary to regard regressive developmental processes as entirely purposeful and determined. For example, elimination of organs that play a role during development but are not required in the adult or regression of vestigial structures such as the tail in humans were viewed as part of the ontogenetic recapitulation of phylogeny. Regression in those cases is determined and is merely one of several fates: cellular determination may be either progressive or regressive.
The idea of progress in all spheres, perhaps most of all in the evolution and development of the vertebrate nervous system, has appealed to many thinkers since the 18th century. Such ideas change more slowly than the means of scientific production; thus new facts are made to serve old ideas. That is why the history of ideas, even if it does not exactly repeat itself, does such a good job of imitation.
In the realm of ideas held by neuroscientists, the idea of progressive construction, of hierarchically ordered programs of development, has always been dominant over the idea of a plenitude of possibilities, from which orderly structure develops from disorderly initial conditions by a process of selective attrition.
DEVELOPMENTAL NEUROBIOLOGY Fourth Edition Edited by MAHENDRA S. RAO MD and MARCUS JACOBSON (Page 396).

How revolutionary could be the idea that there is a plenitude of possibilities, from which orderly structure develops from disorderly initial conditions by a process of selective attrition. The universe is not learning, experimenting, progressing, evolving and neither are we. The universe is already full of a 'plentitude of possibilities' and it already is what it is and is already all it will ever be... as are we. Whatever it is we think we are observing it is not progress or evolution in any sense of the word but is rather the processes of 'selective attrition'. The universe is something else much more and we are a part of it and need to look no further than within our selves since we are also part of that 'fabric' of the universe. Humans are not standing atop the pyramid of life but we are only one of many different morphological manifestations of the natural processes of 'selective attrition' which find us only different and in no way better than the other morphological and metabolic forms and components of the earths biosystem and its holobionts.
The processes of attrition affects 2 vectors in the realization of a particular existence from a plentitude of possibilities. In order for life and consciousness to exist in the earths biosystem 2 vectors must work together to maintain a fragile stasis between reoccurring periods of geological and cosmic instability. These vectors influence morphology and metabolism. Morphology is influenced and regulated by viruses and that still ill defined aspect of our biological reality they represent. Multicellular metabolism is regulated and influenced by chromosomal and nucleic genetics. When the environment changes then the viral component of the tree of life induces morphological changes in the life forms currently inhabiting the biosphere. Within the nucleus of the cell the genetic code is changed now producing biological forms that after development have the metabolism to exist in the new environment. Life consciousness has within it already all the plentitude of possibilities needed to exist in many different potential worlds and it doesn't need to evolve as it is already capable of arising in almost any conditions. Look at the many amazing ways that nature is already incorporating plastics into its ecology.
Unfortunately for us, our ill fated venture into space has triggered processes of attrition between these 2 vectors that are now adapting the morphology and metabolism of the earths biome in response to the time many of its lifeforms have already spent living in a gravity free environment. The different forms of life we have have brought too and from a gravity free environment are also changing. Switching from a model based on evolution and progress to one based on a preexisting plenitude of possibilities may affect the statistical significance of our predictive models. If we are not progressing and evolving towards something then what exactly is it we are doing with all our technologies but creating the conditions for our own morphological extinction?
The human species is an embodiment of the force of attrition in nature. As a species we have introduced a plentitude of possibilities into the biosphere by reshaping ourselves and our environment through our behaviors and in doing so we have fulfilled our biological function. The model is no longer based on the idea of progress so our behavior as a species need no longer be seen as progressive but as simply transformative. The organisms with the largest genomes are creatures like amoebas and lungfish which could be considered as very important gatekeepers and librarians of the biological information accumulated from eons of harvesting 'information' from an ever changing plentitude of biological possibilities. This information is stored within many levels of biosystem and are all connected by the viral ocean in which the overall biosystem is immersed.
It is creatures like these along with long living organisms like trees and fungi that are at the heart of the biosystem while the human species seems doomed to be little more than a brief biological storm arising and passing away in but a few minutes of geological time. We are no longer talking about a universe born from simplicity and its slow progression towards consciousness of which we are the ultimate manifestation.
Consciousness is the fundamental universal force that gives rise to the biological reality we inhabit. Most everything around us has consciousness and it flows through the underlying fabric of our existence via 'fields' generated by metabolic life, much like how electricity moves along a wire...flowing via the field surrounding the wire and not really within the wire itself. It is what is perceiving the perceptual experience created within the cartesian theatre of our human mind. It is the cortical thalamic complex that creates the unique type of perceptual experience that humans have. There is nothing unique about human consciousness only our perceptual experience. The human experience does not represent any type of progression or evolution of consciousness along an evolutionary timeline.
The only thing modern humans bring to the table is their own unique type of perceptual experience which is initiating behaviors that results in biological information that will find its way throughout the biome and will be stored for eons to come and long after we as a species are gone. The introduction of plastics into the ecology represents a new type of information that the natural biological world is already starting to use in many creative and unexpected ways.

The study of the basic philosophies or ideologies of scientists is very difficult because they are rarely articulated. They largely consist of silent assumptions that are taken so completely for granted that they are never mentioned. The historian of biology encounters some of his greatest difficulties when trying to ferret out such silent assumptions; and anyone who attempts to question these "eternal truths" encounters formidable resistance.
In biology, for hundreds of years, a belief in the inheritance of acquired characters, a belief in irresistible progress and in a scala naturae, a belief in a fundamental difference between organic beings and the inanimate world, and a belief in an essentialistic structure of the world of phenomena are only a few of the silent assumptions that influenced the progress of science. Basic ideological polarities were involved in all of the great controversies in the history of biology, indicated by such alternatives as quantity vs. quality, reduction vs. emergence, essentialism vs. population thinking, monism vs. dualism, discontinuity vs. continuity, mechanism vs. vitalism, mechanism vs. teleology, statism vs. evolutionism, and others. Lyell's resistance to evolutionism was due not only to his natural theology but also to his essentialism, which simply did not allow for a variation of species "beyond the limits of their type." Coleman (1970) has shown to what large extent Bateson's resistance to the chromosome theory of inheritance was based on ideological reasons.
One can go so far as to claim that the resistance of a scientist to a new theory almost invariably is based on ideological reasons rather than on logical reasons or objections to the evidence on which the theory is based.
The Growth of Biological Thought: Diversity, Evolution, and Inheritance ERNST MAYR(Page 835).

What do we see when we look at a lion feeding on a fresh kill that is still alive while being eaten? Or a grizzly bear keeping its prey alive for days as it eats it? How about a herd of orca's slowly killing a blue whale? We look away in horror and disgust because we have no idea what it is we are actually observing. Our everyday perceptual experience provides no insight into what is actually happening as this untamed savagery unfolds before us. We have no words for the world as it really is since we very rarely ever perceive it as it really is before being processed and recreated in the cortical thalamic complex. That is what we see and we do not see the outside world as it really is.
A lion consuming a deer is not unlike 2 galaxies colliding. When one animal eats another 2 very large populations of trillions of separate and specialized cellular organisms merge together combining all their biological information as it is being generated in real time. This biological material is processed within the lion and then the viral components and other transgenic organisms move this information between different creatures picking up bits of information and moving it around the biome to be integrated into existing info and/or stored for later retrieval and integration. Very little information is lost when the biosystem is working correctly. When it is not working properly then much information can be permanently lost very quickly. We see this as viruses mutate as they pick up new pieces as the processes of recombination unfold. In times of biological instability plagues are common as insects and rodents are very effective means of consuming this biological information before it is lost due to factors such as changing climatic conditions producing famine. The goal is not evolution or progress but the maintenance of a repository of biological information that allows the biosystem to self regulate its morphology and metabolism. If the organisms that act as gatekeepers, storehouses and librarians are lost then the whole biosystem will collapse.
It the the fundamental energy of consciousness as it 'flows' through metabolic life that powers the biosphere. Earths metabolism and morphology may not look like anything resembling how morphology and metabolism may arise elsewhere in the universe. Unusual organic molecules are being found in the atmosphere of Titan. One such molecule has only been previously found in interstellar clouds. As these molecules break down fairly quickly something must be producing or metabolizing them to maintain their presence in atmosphere. Like electromagnetism if consciousness is also a fundamental force then we can expect it to be active in many different environments.
The nature of consciousness as I am describing it gives rise to one quality that would make space travel somewhat irrelevant. This quality is also behind much of the fuss and importance that humans have made about different types of 'spiritual' experience from their earliest beginnings. Our consciousness is not attached to our own perceptual experience but can move freely between all the perceptual experiences arising anywhere in the universe right now. Every point on the torus is connected to every other point. The perceptual experience of the lion and the deer can be experienced and perceived through the shared dynamics of our own metabolic entanglements as we are all made from the same stuff. It is the 'one topology' suggested to exist in Velinde's and Hooft's model of entropic gravity and the cellular automaton. Morphology is the universal vector for perceptual experience. Metabolism is the universal vector for consciousness.
Biological organisms produce heat/entropy. Think about how significant it is that life can live in external temps well below its own internal heat. Metabolic cellular processes are producing this heat. Biological organisms are not unlike little suns with their ability to produce internal heat. Our bodies are literally made up of trillions of little suns. From metabolism/consciousness arises morphology/perceptual experience. The positive energy generated by the activities of morphological organisms, each with their own spectrum of perceptual experience, counters the negative heat energy of the many metabolic states of consciousness which permeate the universe. When an organism is producing more entropy than the system can absorb that organism is removed or reabsorbed and replaced with one whose metabolism is in balance with rest of biome. When there is too much entropy things like the 'time-reversal of a phenomenon occurring naturally' are no longer available as part of our perceptual experience or vocabulary. Invariably most spiritual practices inadvertently result in the production of less entropy or in the balancing and stabilization of existing entropic forces.
The shamans of old may of been much more in tune with things then we give them credit for. It is a shame that most of their languages and way of life are gone. Like the American Indian I hold the view that the animals and plants around us are our older brothers and sisters and we should learn from them, take our place beside them and not seek to dominate and control but to share the world with them. We have become a species of attrition and seem incapable anymore of transcending our own nature. We cannot help but destroy what we cannot dominate and now we have turned on each other as there is very little left in the natural world for us to conquer. We are no more aware of what we are doing than the couple of meteorites that changed life forever for the dinosaurs. Maybe as Emerson suggested we have learned to ride in a carriage and lost the use of our legs while our giant follows us everywhere.