What’s in the closet, Kirsty?
He knew I hid a secret.
I smiled, tried to look confused.
He waited, crossing his arms.
I worried that he'd already seen. He had.
What else could he think about the pile?
His wife’s a cheater. She has another life. Another husband. Children.
He’d never believe the truth: I’m not a cheater; there’s no other life; no other man; I don’t know who the children are who visit me at night.
But I did have a secret. And maybe it’s fair to say another life, even if was smaller and against my will.
I should have destroyed those frames, burned the photos within. Now it looked like I saved them, cherished them. The truth couldn’t be farther. I feared to touch anything to do with… whatever they are…with one exception.
“It started last Halloween,” I said to George, my husband, my real husband.
He stopped packing for a moment, working out the impossibility of this statement. “I’m taking the girls to my parents.” He resumed the tossing of shirts, pants, etc. into our big suitcase.
“It’s true,” I said, but weakly. The children in the picture are at least six and four respectively. They were born six months ago.
“They’re not… my kids,” I said of the boys in the photos. They’re not kids is what I almost said.
George stopped and squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Kirsty,” he said slowly, “there are baby pictures. I saw them.”
“That’s-”
He quickly raised his finger, exasperated, angry, done.
“The first picture is you holding a newborn, and…” He swallowed painfully, his throat gone dry. It always does when he’s upset. “And the father in that picture, with his arm around you, isn’t me.”
When I couldn't deny it, he nodded like he knew all along our marriage would end.
We were happy. We really were. George and I had managed to overcome the typical breakdown that often comes with raising children. Only since last Halloween had distance been made by me.
I should have told him as soon as it started.
“Girls!” he called as I followed him down the stairs to the front hall of our lovely home. We’d scrimped and sacrificed to buy and keep this place, our dream by the lake. He’d been so proud. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave the first night sleeping there.
Cara and Ella protested through play, ignoring the adults, continuing to jump on an old box they’d long since flattened. Rays from the western sun placed my daughters into an inspired, hallowed light, and I started to cry. He was going to take my babies away.
George opened the door, intending, I’m sure, to drop the suitcase in the car before returning to physically carry the girls out.
But he hesitated in the doorway.
“George?”
The suitcase fell with a solid thud on the floor. “There’s no way,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no way,” he said, with emphasis on the last word, “you would have had time for…this…”
Not defining "this" as cheating was progress. “Yes!”
He glared, quieting my desperate enthusiasm. I wasn’t off the hook. “Tell me. The truth.”
“I can’t.”
He reached for the suitcase.
“No, not because I don’t want to,” I protested. “I don’t know what’s happening!” I sat on the carpeted steps and stared through blurred vision at my trembling hands. The shriek I’d filled the house with - “happening!” - had put a halt to the box's obliteration. Cara and Ella hesitated for a few seconds before leaping into action.
Cara, the oldest, six, punched her dad in the buttocks. “You have to be nice!”
Ella, four, sat beside me and patted my trembling hands. “It’s okay, mummy.”
Such lovely daughters. Nothing like the boys in those photos when they were this age.
George grasped Cara's wrists and gently walked her back into the house, using his foot to kick the suitcase from the swing of the front door.
"It's alright, girls," he said with weak resolve. "Go and play."
"No!" Cara shouted. She kicked at her father and he pulled her close into a bearhug. Gradually, the girls calmed and were convinced to return to the box in the front room.
"Kirsty," George said, "you have to tell me." He sat down on the step beside me. "Please." I would do anything to take away the hurt in his eyes. "Please."
"I can't. But… I can write it down. Maybe." I took out my phone. We shared Google Drive. When I made a new document, he reluctantly started his phone. The man was a dream. He watched his screen, and waited patiently for my words to appear.
Without preamble, I returned to the awful moment when it all began: a strange and disturbing dream. Words came like an infection from beneath a torn scab. The wound had been opened. Nothing could stop this now.
Sex with another man has never been a desire of mine. I love George. He loves me.
Plus, the man in my dream was a stranger, and not particularly handsome. He has a plain face set to unwavering boredom and unkempt male pattern baldness. Our dream sex felt obligatory, just something we had to do.
I awoke on the wrong side of midnight. November 1st and I was craving ice cream instead of the girls' gathered candy. The freezer left by the previous homeowners came with unopened ice cream. Freezer burned or not, I wanted some.
After retrieving a spoon from the kitchen, I intended to destroy a brick of neopolitan. He waited in his flannel pajamas, barefoot on the concrete floor. His arms were crossed.
"Cravings?" he said.
I dropped the spoon. It clattered down the basement steps. Before I could run away, he disappeared like someone had erased him from head to foot in one clean sweep.
Had to be a dream. That's what I told myself. The spoon stayed in the basement until daylight. Ghost or nightmare, there was laundry to do the next day.
I crossed the concrete floor fast and only felt safer when I'd closed the door to the more modern laundry room. Never thought builder's grade tiles and track lights would make me feel anything but sad.
His voice caught me sorting.
"Kirsty!"
I dropped the cup of detergent all over the floor.
"Shit."
I came out of the laundry room, figuring George had been looking for me in uncharacteristically rude fashion. He hated speaking between rooms. Shouting throughout the house was highly impolite. It must have been important, I figured.
As soon as I stepped onto the bare concrete, however, deep sadness, the kind that seems to physically leech the strength from your body, dominated the room.
"Hello?" I don't know why I said that. The basement is a low ceilinged rectangle. There are no hiding spots except for the laundry room I'd come from. After a deep breath, I walked briskly to the stairs.
"Any day now," a raspy voice breathed into my ear. I jolted and slipped forward, falling and clipping my chin off a step. It made my teeth click painfully. Nobody there, of course. I ran upstairs and George had gone outside with the girls to play hide and seek.
I wanted to tell him. He looked so happy. It's hard to convey in words the kind of smile he showed me through the window. Imagine contentment mixed with unreserved joy and hope. Yes, it's difficult to picture. So few of us can ever have such a moment. Sort of like finding a natural view completely untouched by humanity. Beyond rare and precious.
I’m rambling now to avoid writing about what followed. The point is I couldn’t tell him. I hoped it’d go away and stop.
But, of course, it didn’t, and things got much worse.
I awoke in a great deal of pain. Having already given birth to children, the feeling was familiar. Despite getting up and gasping, George continued to snore in our bed. He’s a deep sleeper, but a quick and early riser. I’ve never heard him complain about getting out of bed either, especially when there’s an emergency.
I might have woken him up but I was disoriented and confused. Part of me believed I was still pregnant with Ella. It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way to the kitchen to avoid waking up the girls, that my brain caught up: Girls. Plural. Ella was asleep in her bed upstairs.
“Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiit.” I knew the signs of labour. This couldn’t be happening. “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
I was definitely going to wake everyone up if this continued.
My phone was upstairs by my bedside table. We don’t have a landline. I should have called 911. I should have woken up George.
Instead, I went downstairs where I could vocalize pain without disturbing anyone. Such a pathetically passive response. But that’s how I was raised. Keep it down, don't you frown.
His hands seized mine as soon as I descended the last step. Serious and bald without dignity is how to best describe his physical appearance. Cold and cruel is what he is. The lights turned off and, in the perfect darkness of the basement, he was all that I could see.
He produces a red light from his body somehow but his touch is literally frosty.
"Kristy, it's time," he said. No joy there. Just straight facts. Something was coming. I was going to give birth to it. In the dull red glow of his being, the first boy came.
"His name is Hadad," the man said, placing a large, infant boy with a lot of hair and, I swear, a hint of beard, on the bare concrete. Hadad looked like a three month old they use as newborns on TV. He didn't cry. He hardly seemed to breathe as his dark eyes roamed the darkness. His light resembled the man's, a less intense red.
I felt another contraction, and winced.
"She comes next," the man said.
I felt so weak. "Who are you?" I asked him.
At last, he smiled and I wished he hadn't. It made me feel small, insignificant, and beneath his concern. "You know who I am," he said. "I'm your husband."
Pain wracked my entire body. Something didn't feel right. The birth of Cara and Ella had been without difficulty.
"Push," my "husband" ordered. "She is upset with you, and will kill you if you don't get her out now."
"It has to be a nightmare," I told him. Sweat poured in streams down my face. The unborn "she" in question writhed and damaged my insides. I screamed. I couldn't help it.
"Push!"
I obeyed and the second boy spilled onto the bare concrete, coated in blood and dust.
"It's a boy," I said.
The man looked displeased. "The body is male. She is Hebat. No wonder she is angry." Like the other infant, Hebat appeared aware of her surroundings and had far too much motor control for a newborn. The light pouring from her body was dull silver. Her eye sockets were two pits of concentrated despair. I had to look away.
The babies were pressed into my arms.
The man stretched out beside me. "Open your eyes and smile." I resisted. "Do it. Now." What choice did I have? The flash from his cell blinded me. They were all gone by the time my sight recovered. Only the sweat remained as evidence of the ordeal.
It had to have been a hallucination. Some very bad food poisoning maybe. The source could be as simple as an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. I had been stress eating since we'd moved in. I stood up and took some comfort in a Charles Dickens' reference.
"More of gravy than of grave about you," I said. My words seemed consumed by the dreadful weight of the air. "Whatever you are."
Whatever you are: something bad in any case. At best, I'd hallucinated prolonged and traumatic labour and needed medical attention. Yet, when I limped up the basement stairs, all thoughts of waking George vanished. There on the kitchen island sat a propped frame containing the photograph taken only moments ago.
The man looked happy. Only Hadad appeared in this picture, which meant another one was somewhere. I didn't panic. I worried more about what George would think if he saw the photos. I had to find them all.
Hebat and his father and I were mounted in a dark wood frame by the master bedroom. It'd be the first thing anyone saw if they woke up. I plucked it off the wall and, together with the first photo, tucked it under some blankets in the dresser we'd shoved in the small walk-in closet.
You might not believe this, but I went straight to sleep after. I climbed under the blanket in my sweaty pajamas, shut my eyes, and didn't have enough time to deny what had happened. I was unconscious until morning.
George placed a coffee on my nightstand. That's what I remember. He rubbed my feet while I slowly awoke. The girls were watching TV downstairs, munching on apple slices. There was forty minutes still before we had to seriously consider getting ready to take Cara to school.
George would drop her off on his way to work downtown. He chose his hours and always chose convenience for his wife and kids. Ella and I planned to spend the morning gardening. Then we would nap much of the afternoon away until George and Cara returned. A life so perfect is so very rare.
I didn't want to spoil things with a very convincing nightmare. Besides, I felt fine. Not so good that I wanted to look in the dresser to see if those photos really were there, but not ill. So I remained silent again.
November started fine. Idyllic days and nights filled with laughter and joy and television. Just as I started to believe in the dream we'd made, they came again.
The wail of a child's hunger is a powerful call for a parent. When it's a chorus, even of two, it cannot be ignored. Only I awoke to Hadad and Hebat's cries for their "mother" from the basement.
Half asleep, I drifted into the kitchen and searched for their milk bottles. When no bottles could be found, I remembered they were newborns. Milk swelled in my breasts and made my nipples ache. Just like when Cara or Ella would awaken in the night. It was a relief to feed them.
But what the fuck was I doing?
I was acting like the man in the basement and the devil babies were mine. It'd been less than a week since Halloween and that horrible nightmare illusion. I had already taken on the beleaguered newborn mother role without question.
Their cries intensified and flayed the weak resistance of exhausted reasoning.
Don't wake George. Don't wake my babies, my real babies.
"What took you so long?" the man critized, his voice monotone, the question unrhetorical.
"I… was sleeping. I went to the fridge first." Under his severe gaze, I stopped in the midst of the dark room. Hadad had quieted. Hebat cooed as if laughing at her own joke. I couldn't see them because the lights were off. They liked the dark better. Somehow I knew that about them and him.
"You should sleep down here," he said. "A mother should always be close to her babies."
The statement was nonsense but not altogether wrong. I wanted to be close to my babies, the daughters sleeping in bliss upstairs, away from the evil fermentation in the basement.
"Kirsty," he said. "Are you listening?" His hand touched the small of my back. The gentleness surprised me. I squawked and flinched away. "What’s wrong with you? They're hungry." He pressed on my shoulders until I sat on the cold floor.
They came from the shadows, already walking. I wanted to go, but I knew he wouldn't allow it. He pulled my cat t-shirt off over my head and their fierce mouths suckled, relieving the pressure of excess breast milk quickly. It felt physically good and psychologically alien.
I looked down at them once and immediately regretted it. Their emanated light had intensified to a point where perception of them hurt.
Each time I blinked my eyes were drawn to some isolated part of their bodies. The vision got closer to the point of disgust. Everything is gross if you're close enough. There is no beauty under a microscope. If you think there is then you're not using the right magnification.
Hebat's eye drew me in. At first, I saw the dark sphere, and then the strands of her eyelashes. Her gravity kept pulling until the creatures that live in eyelashes were revealed: Demodex folliculorum. I looked the microscopic horrors up.
The babies had more parasites than any child should. They wanted to show me and could somehow do so.
I asked him about it. "Why are they showing me these worms?"
He smiled, contemptuously as usual. "Trying to impress mother. Neither of them understand your horror and insignificance. You are the ant who knows they're an ant. Lucky you. They think you will be proud of the life their corporeal forms produce and host. Give them a few hours. It will pass."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm not sure what you mean. We're married. Now, prepare to smile." His cell reappeared and I noted the lack of features; it might have been a singed rectangle of spent firewood. He frowned when I failed to smile. "Smile, Kirsty. These are your children."
I managed to stave off the tears and hold the babies close. The smile was more difficult. In the inevitable aftermath of their sudden disappearance, the frames depicted an exhausted, wrinkly woman smiling painfully. It took a second to recognize myself.
The things in the basement sapped my strength. I looked dehydrated, beleaguered. The scale in the bathroom said I'd dropped six pounds. I'd weighed myself the morning before.
"Whoa, you've lost weight," George noted, thinking I'd be pleased. "This place has been so good for us, eh?'
To produce another smile proved as draining as the previous night. "Y-yes," I stuttered too late for him to ignore.
"Hey," he said, touching my forearm.
I flinched.
"Whoa, you okay? What's wrong?"
I should have told him. "Nothing. Bad sleep. A nightmare. I'll be fine."
A lie is an agreement. George wanted to agree, I think. He wanted life to be fine because he was happy for once. We struggled so hard before we came to Bridal Veil Lake. It was supposed to be our dream.
Guilty if I told him the truth. Guilty because I didn't. I began to resent his happiness, though he had done nothing but be the wonderful man he'd always been.
To Cara and Ella I became a body in motion, No brain left to guide them away from harm or answer their questions about nature and the universe.
"I don't know." That's what I told them often.
So they began to treat me like a kind of butler.
"Can I have some juice, please?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Of course." And I'd run off to fetch it.
"Cookies."
"Yes, dear."
When Christmas came, I had two and they induced the same level of joy. Visiting the basement to feed and nurture Hebat and Hadad became a nightly occurrence. I'd learned to awaken, if I could get to sleep at all, and go quietly.
He berated me severely if I missed a night, and there were subtle threats made casually.
"I may have to squash you yet," he said, his tone as deep and cold as always.
"It won't happen again," I promised. "They’re getting big." In fact, they were no longer infants. Both had grown to the approximate age of six or seven in a few months. Still, they never spoke. Their dark eyes watched me as they ate food from the kitchen upstairs, food I'd hidden from my family.
"More meat," the man demanded.
"Of course." And I ran to the freezer and gave them frozen sausages in the package. They never complained or demanded the food be prepared a different way. No objections from my "husband" either.
Hebat tore the styrofoam and plastic wrap away and flattened the row of sausages stuck together between powerful molars. Hadad contented itself with licking them like a popsicle.
I'd stay until the photo. Then they'd release me by vanishing. Always with an exhausted breath, I'd trudge up the stairs and search for the frames and hide them in the same place.
They only smiled in the pictures. At no other time did they express any kind of emotion unless indifference counts.
My own children and husband weren't doing much better. Their concerns about my fatigue and ruminating slowly ceased as I repeated the excuse: I’m just tired. It'll pass.
Of course, I did not know when the nightmare would stop.
"When will it end?" I asked him one night, while Hebat and Hadad exercised like they had a mission.
"What do you mean?" he said.
I was surprised he answered. He usually didn't. "This. This. When can I go back to normal and not come down every night? I'm so very tired."
He frowned and I thought some punishment must be coming. Instead, he looked more confused. "I don't understand. You aren't happy? Your children grow into power and strength and will take their place in the world. They will be great and you - you, of all the tiny things, made that happen. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and see if Hebat and Haddad aren't your answer."
Too many words, all at once, for an exhausted mother. I didn't speak for the rest of the night. The infernal trio vanished, and the latter moments of the ritual I carried out with his challenge in mind.
I want my children to be strong, happy, and safe.
"Juice," Cara demanded the next morning, a Saturday, while she watched cartoons.
"Get it yourself!" I hissed, from tired to angry in a second.
"But I can't," Cara accurately pointed out. She didn't look away from the TV. Looking at me wasn't safe, and she knew it. Her and Ella held hands and sat a little straighter. It broke my heart. What had I done?
George came downstairs, attracted by my shouting. "What’s going on?"
Empathy became sadness, and the constant burden rekindled to anger swiftly. "Just children treating me like a servant."
He smiled. "Ah, yes, and how are the royal princesses this morning?"
His levity irked me. "You would know if you didn't sleep in so much."
The smile vanished from his face, and instead of the fight I seemed to want, he mumbled a quiet apology and joined the girls. They climbed onto him as he wrapped them into a cuddle.
"What are we watching?" George restarted his smile, his calm, for the girls. I hated myself. It had to end. Tonight.
After another dreary day of going through the motions, and the girls and George had fallen asleep, I went to the kitchen and chose the knife I thought sharpest.
"Kirsty," he said, his voice a whisper rising from the depths of the house.
"Coming," I whispered back.
"Mom," said another voice, a girl's, and I knew that Hebat had, at last, found herself and the wholeness of her being had been corrected.
I started to cry. I went downstairs and there she was with her brother and her father. He looked tired but some of the grimness had cracked to allow the first real contentment I've ever seen him express.
"Is that for the cake?" he asked. "We already have one."
I remembered the sharp knife. "Meat," I said. "There’s ham in the freezer."
He nodded, seeming to accept the answer.
"Mom," Hebat said, "Do you think I'm…" She gestured to herself, her face, and her body, and I understood the question, born from doubt and a desire to be validated.
I pulled her close. "You are the most beautiful girl in the whole world." We cried together. Hadad cut into a poorly made, asymmetrical cake by the light of his aura. No one cared that he did so on the floor. I brought out the ham from the fridge and we ate slices with our hands.
"It's almost done," he said. "They’re nearly grown. They are strong, and they are happy. You've done a good job, Kirsty." He watched our children fight to smear icing on each other's faces. "I'm sorry if I was mean. Or cold. I've never done this before." And he meant raising children. "It was the hardest, scariest thing anyone can try. I shouldn't have blamed you for… Hebat… It wasn't your fault."
Before I could pat his hand, he and the kids vanished. Darkness so familiar couldn't extinguish a new fear. I went upstairs and found the last frame. I held my daughter in the photo, my beautiful Hebat. He must have taken the photo without my notice.
I took it upstairs but couldn't bring myself to hide it.
I didn't see that one, George wrote into the document.
I forgot he was watching.
He typed again: Are you saying there is something in the basement?
Yes, I replied.
He stirred in the living room. I hadn't moved from the stairs, but I could tell by his stomping how angry he'd become. All of his negative, violent traits he saved for those in the world who would harm his family. George the Protector was fearsome to behold.
But he had no chance against my other husband.
"Come out! Come out you coward!" George bellowed. At first, nothing happened. The moment before calamity, even when the specific consequences aren't known, is still in slow motion. He carried on shouting. The girls rushed into the hall and didn’t hesitate to investigate.
"No!" I shouted. "Cara! Ella!"
Their feet padded down the steps. A violent commotion followed, screams and raging voices, both deep and childishly shrill.
The most unsettling quiet followed.
I chewed through the fear and the horror tearing me apart and finally moved.
No evidence of violence could be seen from the top of the stairs. The concrete looked bare and dusty and the light revealed nothing more. They were gone, all of them.
"Hebat," I whispered. "Cara? George?"
Him, I thought of, the nameless husband and felt no hint of his presence. He'd always been there. I know that now. It had nothing to do with the house. His absence was felt more than his insidious presence. Yet, I felt no relief. George and the girls were gone. I sat on the floor and cried for all my missing children.
When I finally emerged from the basement, the whole house had been filled with night. Their photos were everywhere. The others were upstairs. I gathered them on the kitchen island. How could I explain any of this to the police?
I needed help. I called my parents. It took twenty minutes before my father picked up.
"Kirsty? What's wrong?"
"Dad," I whimpered. "George is gone. Cara. Ella."
"What? What did you say?"
"They’re gone, dad. George. The girls are gone."
I heard his bed springs protest as he rolled out of bed. My mom said something I couldn't hear, and he shushed her.
"Kirsty," he said, "are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"
Why was it so hard to understand? "Dad. George is gone."
"Kirsty, who the hell is George?"
It was my turn to be confused. "He's my- you know him. My husband…"
"Kirsty," he said very slowly, "are you on drugs? Did you take something?"
"No. Are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I hung up.
I have their photos. I have all of their photos. That's what I brought to George's parents before the sun rose. They wouldn't open the door and spoke to me through an intercom.
"George is gone," I said.
"We'll call the police."
"This is your son. These are your granddaughters."
I heard my mother-in-law say, "Who is she?"
"We don't have a son," my father-in-law said. "Go away."
I left.
Back to the house. Our dream sat empty and I live there, but none of the people in my family photos are my family.
I remember but the world never does. My parents think I'm ill and that I used AI to create the family I apparently never had.
How did I buy the house without a job or income? With deep concern for my mental health, they showed me a news story. I had won the lottery the day I turned eighteen.
His influence there, payment for services rendered.
A lie is an agreement.
What had I agreed to? I'm afraid I know the answer: I never wanted a family.
God help me. God help them.
I don't know what to do with these pictures.

(Only Europe, Please) - short note - If you're not into reading or receiving long messages,don't read any further + Please If you don't want to read everything because of my post being too long for you & instead of reading It all - ..skip some parts - find another person to talk to.Let's respect each other and our free time. All people criticizing/making fun of me & other people - will be blocked.Pretty much as people questioning my post and giving me unsolicited advice.I'm not here for any conflicts and I know I can't please everyone - I know I never will.. However It's me who should feel comfortable in my new potential friendship & obviously someone who wants to be my friend - not the whole world.. which is why I don't need any advice from people who don't even want to be a part of my life. The amount of rude people on Reddit always criticizing others and making fun of them is unbelievably high but let me tell you something - NEVER let anyone make choices for you and criticize you only because you're different! Always fight for your dreams and never let anyone make you think you're worthless! It's your life and you're the one deciding what's best for you - If you want to judge me despite not even wanting to talk to me or give me advice better block me! I'm an adult woman and I make all decisions on my own.I'm not trying to "fit in" and be like everyone else - just to get more attention.Accept me for who I am or let go - is my motto.
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Hello guys! 🙂 (read everything before you decide to send me a message) Please send me a message ONLY If you're in the same situation and If your expectations are the same as mine.I want to find like minded people from Europe (Why Europe? Read my post to find out) I'm looking for something permanent (remember - you can feel lonely even If you're surrounded by others - If there's no emotional bond) I'm fed up of meeting people who never make time for me & only text me once or twice a week to ask me "what are you up to?" Out of boredom.I don't want to meet people asking others a million of questions like "what's your favorite movie?" Just to give them one word answer and ask them another question "and music? Your favorite song?" I'm looking for something "deeper" & different 🙂
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What kind of friend would I like to find? Someone to talk to on a daily basis - Someone who needs It & wants It just as much as me
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What are my expectations? I would like to meet someone in a similar situation – why? Because I honestly feel like only a person with the same expectations and a similar outlook on life would get along with me & because I feel more comfortable talking to people like me..Friendless people who need a strong bond - people without friends and partners.. Don't get me wrong…Most people deserve to be happy and It's good to have friends but people who have friends or families in real life are usually more focused on them (which is completely understandable) & have less time for others + I simply don't want to be replaced by anyone..I kind of envy people who can call others , true friends given I don't have an emotional bond with any of my acquaintances. Please send me a message only If you're not In a relationship and don't have friends for the same reasons I've already mentioned before
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Whenever I hear that others have friends I simply get sad because (believe it or not) If I had to choose between 20 people to talk to (acquaintances) and one special person - I'd choose that one special person without any hesitation .
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I also want to talk to others every day because..I want to see someone’s effort & be someone's first choice - not another person to have random conversations with..some people ask me "Why do you want to talk to people from Europe?" Well..Because I would like to see someone I'd get along with - In the far future - face to face :) + I don't want to wait any longer than 6 hours to receive a message - waiting 6 hours to receive a message is more than enough
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I'm by no means criticizing people who don't want to talk to others often / People who really are super busy & People who want to find someone to have unimportant conversations with - I'm aware that not everyone has the same expectations which is why everything you're reading now - is here for a reason :) All I'm suggesting is - I don't want anything temporary and I don't want to be the one always giving more than receiving.Listen people - I used to ignore being..ignored by others..always being just an option to talk to during tough times or moments of boredom.I was too young to realize that I was never important enough for most people that were a part of my life. I don't know who needs to hear this but..No one is too busy to make time for you! People make excuses to avoid others because they prioritize everything and (maybe) everyone..over them. It's true that most people are busy - but It takes only a few seconds to start a conversation (If you're into short messages) and a few minutes (1-10/15) to type a long message . Don't let anyone lie to you.
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Truth is that most people either don't like you enough to make time for you or just simply - feel no need to talk to others often but are they too busy? No..You don't need to send me a message just to ask me and tell me "Do you really want to talk every day? I like long messages but I can't promise to contact you often" If you really are unsure please don't send me a message.I don't need more acquaintances aka people to talk to - occasionally.
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I'm not trying to sound rude but conversations once or twice a week wouldn't be enough for me and I don't need them... Let me tell you one thing – A true friend would never just give up on you for no reason :) It’s always possible to find someone to have a random conversation with – someone willing to send you one message once or twice a week..but..It’s almost impossible to find people willing to make more time for you.
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I’m not asking a busy person to make time for me by changing some plans! Absolutely not! I’m here to find someone who wants to talk daily (throughout the day or maybe even night) of one’s own will.Someone looking for the same kind of connection.Strong friendships are based on mutual support. One of the best things you can do for a friend in need, is just to be there for them when they want to talk.I often see posts from people who always say how friendless they are because they don't feel loved or appreciated by their "friends" remember! A true friend - someone who truly likes you or someone who wants to get to know you - will always find time for you.
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I'm not interested in small talk/short messages - I love long and meaningful conversations. It's so easy to find someone who loves abbreviations and questions like "How are you?" How was your day? Or what are you interested in? But so hard/almost impossible to find a person who knows how to keep a conversation going & show others some effort.Building and maintaining friendships takes time and effort.Never allow pursuits or possessions to become bigger priorities than your relations with other people.Close friendships are so important to us because they are so difficult to form + Having friends can help you feel as if you belong to something that brings purpose and connection to your life
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• I do NOT respond to any „Hey,hmu” or „u want to talk?” type of messages (super short messages or messages full of abbreviations – I literally can’t stand abbreviations and acronyms in text messages) ALL messages full of abbreviations will immediately be ignored.I also don't like it when people ignore everything I say in private messages just to focus on a random question or? When they start talking only about themselves and don't ever ask me anything. I love conversations with people referring to everything I say...I want everything I say and do - to be reciprocated
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• No NSFW profiles (checking mental health subreddits NOT included as I'm a huge empath and always try to understand others) - Please! I'm not looking for anyone to flirt with and I'm not looking for a partner either. I always check people's profiles (even comment history) - To avoid guys, trying to get inappropriate pictures from adult women or? flirt with them + I don't want to see you with no clothes on so If you're on Reddit only because you want others to see what's underneath your clothes - I'm not for you! I just simply don't want to see any s e x related activity on your profile If you want to talk to me.
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• If both of us (you and I) are from the same country (I live in a non-English speaking country) - I want to communicate with you in our first language! No - Not because I don't understand English - because as you see - I do. Why then? English is simply overrated and people don't appreciate other languages as much as they should. So.. If we're from the same country and you want to talk only in English (which is quite common on reddit) - Talk to someone else. I just don't want to talk to a person from the same country as mine - in a foreign language as It's just something I don't understand even If all you want is to improve your language skills
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• Please only adult people 18-36 (age range) It doesn't matter to me If you're younger or older than me (as long as you're not underage) So.. don't worry! I just want to have discussions with emotionally mature people :)
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• I don’t respond to messages I don’t find interesting even If they're long - If after receiving and reading your message I don't feel comfortable or think "I wouldn't get along with him/her" I simply do not respond (what I’m suggesting is that I don’t always respond to someone’s first or second message because..sometimes you just know If you’d get along with someone or not- I’d never ignore anyone after days or weeks of daily conversations though) just because I don’t want to do anything forcefully & because I don’t want to lead anyone on. I read all messages but I definitely don't respond to all of them! I want to make it clear because I don't want to be accused of not responding and not reading people's messages! - Some people don't message me back as well and even If It's a bit disappointing I'm ok with that! - as long as there's no emotional bond - Not responding to someone's first or second message Is completely OK! If people think they wouldn't get along with a stranger - is there a reason to start a conversation? I don't think so. I can't stand being ignored after days or weeks of daily conversations and seeing people changing priorities over time.. but that's something different - something I don't want to go through ever again for real. If I'm really interested in someone's message it's impossible to hear from me "I'm too busy" because I know myself and If I had no time for others - I wouldn't be here. I don't want to pretend someone I'm not and always try to find some cheap excuses to avoid others. (unlike most people who don't want to talk to others)
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• Don’t ask me “Can you tell me something about yourself?” If you really want to get to know me - you can ask me questions :) I'm an open book.
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• It would be better If you guys were into emojis - like me - to describe your emotions In text messages. Two emojis - 🙂 and 🙁 are completely enough! I just don't like emotionless conversations.I also don't like it when people say "yeah" or yea"as it sounds dismissively. First impression Is everything to me! I want to see your kindness even in a text message - Emojis are very helpful to express your emotions.I don't want to meet people who say "crying Is a weakness" - It's OK to cry even If you're a guy!
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• I want to talk on reddit first (just to make sure If I'd get along with you) before moving to Discord or some other app
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• I would rather talk to a homebody - not another person who always has something to do as people who are very busy don't even have time for daily conversations
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• If you're another person interested only in "childish conversations" such as "HEYOOO! I'M BORED! Ya like Pizza or cheese? xDDDD 🤣" I'm begging you! Don't send me a message.I'm not a child anymore and such messages don't make me smile or laugh.I'm looking for someone interested In serious discussions - not another person just seeking some entertainment out of boredom . Conversations with sarcastic undertones (even when It comes to some emojis such as 🤣😂) are not for me. Your typing style matters to me! Why? when It comes to online conversations with someone new - It's not always possible to know If someone Is laughing at you.. or with you. Let me tell you something else! Jokes about cancer, disabilities and death are UNACCEPTABLE to me. If you find joy In someone else's misfortune you are not a person I want to know.
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• Time response matters to me a lot! I would never ask anyone to be online all day long and I'm NOT asking any of you for any instant messaging as I'm someone who would rather wait an hour or two to receive a proper response instead of some short and pointless messages but I'm interested only in daily conversations and I don't want to wait any longer than 6 hours to get a message from you.I don't need unbelievably long messages either! Messages as long as the second paragraph of my post - are completely enough. If you like longer messages? you can send me a longer message, but If you want to send me one word or one sentence as a response to my post - don't expect a reaction from me. I don't want to come across as rude - I just don't want to waste your time
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• I'm strongly AGAINST picking on people you don't even want to chat with - and making fun of them! I can't stand people who criticize others publicly or make fun of them! (only because they disagree with someone they don't even know) There's no place In my life for someone using Reddit, to hurt other people
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• I'm not into foul language and I definitely don't want to talk to people who swear a lot...
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• I want to meet assertive people who know what they want and always stand up for their friends
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• I want to meet someone willing to call me In the future, someone spontaneously sending me pictures of animals or food, et cetera. I want more than just text conversations.. 🌻
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Why can’t you see any of my hobbies listed down below? Because what really matters to me is..who you are (If you’re honest, talkative ,understanding, caring and trustworthy – for example) just simply – It matters to me what you’re like! not what you like.Don’t get me wrong – you can tell me what your hobbies are but from my point of view - people's hobbies are important - If you want to find a gaming buddy or If you want to meet someone to hang out with in real life and..go bowling for example.What most people seem to care about are other people's passions – I don’t. I get along with other people despite having completely different hobbies but I absolutely don’t get along with people way different than me (different expectations and outlook on life – way different sense of humor or personality traits – It’s just an example) It doesn't make ANY DIFFERENCE to me If you're a gamer or? Someone interested in photography! It doesn't make any difference - > as long as you're talkative and kind and If you also want to find someone willing to stay in your life..for good - But If you're into small talk and all you want is to...type and receive super short messages or If you're here only because you're bored and don't know what to do + If you're a very sarcastic person - I'm definitely not for you! I don't get along with overly sarcastic people turning everything into a joke. Friendships should be natural – not forced. I wouldn't get along with people who laugh at everything.. In my opinion most people are way too sarcastic.. It's quite sad... Sarcasm can also be another form of passive-aggressive behavior.
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People who want to be to friends should feel comfortable and have something in common. No - not necessarily a similar taste in music or movies but something else..Most friendships don't fizzle out because of people not having the same hobbies but..because they just simply have different expectations when It comes to something important.I'm not here out of boredom and trust me - I'm not here to meet as many people as possible.I choose quality over quantity.I highly value myself and my time & Sometimes one person but a person who makes you feel comfortable and understood - is more than enough :) We ALL can choose what kind of people we’d like to talk to and maybe even become really good friends with and I? I don’t want anyone to be disappointed.We all have some expectations after all.I know that people don't have to talk as often as possible in order to become friends but I'm interested only in daily conversations. If you really need someone to talk to due to loneliness and If you have time to talk to me daily (throughout the day and maybe even night) I always make time for others.I'm literally always available.I could even stay up all night long only to talk to someone important to me. I’m ready to commit but only If there’s some chemistry between me and someone else.I don’t do anything forcefully.
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If you want to talk to me tell me your story - tell me why you're here, what kind of friend would you like to meet :) Et cetera.Such messages are way more interesting to me than...someone's long list of hobbies. I know! It's unusual on reddit but I don't make friends based on hobbies..I want to meet someone with the same mindset as mine to finally feel understood and get close to someone new. You can share your problems with me - I absolutely don't mind "complaining" as I've been through a lot in my life.What do people usually tell you when you tell them that something's wrong? "Don't complain" or "Life's not over yet - one day you'll be happy" or "There are worse situations than yours" and..obviously "Find a therapist" Life's not a fairytale and sometimes things don't go as planned.Emotions shouldn't be bottled up.I'm sick of people always telling others "everything's gonna be ok" move on " & more..Trust me people - not everyone wants to hear "Just believe in yourself and everything's gonna be ok" Some people take it as reassurance - but others? They would rather hear something different 🙁Imagine being told that things will be okay, only for them to get worse..Do you guys know why telling someone "everything's gonna be ok" Is wrong? Because you can't see the future.
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You can't guarantee others that one day they'll finally be happy + when It comes to social interactions - We're responsible only for ourselves - not others & as you guys know people let us down quite often (sometimes even when there's no reason) so instead of telling people how they should move on, forget everything and be happy or asking them to find a therapist - be there for them! Always be willing to listen to them If you really like them or want to get to know them & don't suggest everyone in a tough situation to find a therapist because even the best therapist won't ever replace a true friend + It's quite normal to be disappointed If people always do something to hurt you. Sharing your hardships with other people in a very similar situation or exactly the same one - is VERY helpful If the other person understands you & wants to start all over by just letting it all out! Feeling emotional support instead of always hearing some "positive quotes" or someone saying "Stop complaining let's talk about something else - Is very important! "Everyone needs a shoulder to cry on. I appreciate sensitive people who always try to understand others. If after hearing a sad story all you want to say is "forget the past and move on" you're not for me. It's important to be a good listener and provide emotional support to others
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Please - If you're a completely different person than the described type of person I'm looking for (If you love abbreviations,If you don't need a stable friendship, If you're sarcastic and quiet) or If you simply disagree with my post - don't force yourself to send me a message.I want my new potential friendship to be natural which is why I want you to contact me only If your needs are the same - I don't want you to pretend someone you're not - only to please me - Pretending to be someone you're not - is the worst.I want to finally be happy again & find someone "always" wanting to talk - sending me random pictures throughout the day - food pictures or pictures of some animals. What is the most important to me? I want to find people who value online friendships as much as they would value real life ones as there's another human being on the other side
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No comments please.Only Private messages and chat requests 🌺
I know It's possible to meet people with exactly the same expectations as mine but It's just not easy because most people are Interested In temporary and entertaining conversations. People like me are just "different" I really want to finally find someone who loves emojis as much as I do.. someone who loves sweet, warm and serious discussions at the same time. Emojis really do - change conversations 😊

(Only Europe, Please) - short note - If you're not into reading or receiving long messages,don't read any further + Please If you don't want to read everything because of my post being too long for you & instead of reading It all - ..skip some parts - find another person to talk to.Let's respect each other and our free time. All people criticizing/making fun of me & other people - will be blocked.Pretty much as people questioning my post and giving me unsolicited advice.I'm not here for any conflicts and I know I can't please everyone - I know I never will.. However It's me who should feel comfortable in my new potential friendship & obviously someone who wants to be my friend - not the whole world.. which is why I don't need any advice from people who don't even want to be a part of my life. The amount of rude people on Reddit always criticizing others and making fun of them is unbelievably high but let me tell you something - NEVER let anyone make choices for you and criticize you only because you're different! Always fight for your dreams and never let anyone make you think you're worthless! It's your life and you're the one deciding what's best for you - If you want to judge me despite not even wanting to talk to me or give me advice better block me! I'm an adult woman and I make all decisions on my own.I'm not trying to "fit in" and be like everyone else - just to get more attention.Accept me for who I am or let go - is my motto.
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Hello guys! 🙂 (read everything before you decide to send me a message) Please send me a message ONLY If you're in the same situation and If your expectations are the same as mine.I want to find like minded people from Europe (Why Europe? Read my post to find out) I'm looking for something permanent (remember - you can feel lonely even If you're surrounded by others - If there's no emotional bond) I'm fed up of meeting people who never make time for me & only text me once or twice a week to ask me "what are you up to?" Out of boredom.I don't want to meet people asking others a million of questions like "what's your favorite movie?" Just to give them one word answer and ask them another question "and music? Your favorite song?" I'm looking for something "deeper" & different 🙂
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What kind of friend would I like to find? Someone to talk to on a daily basis - Someone who needs It & wants It just as much as me
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What are my expectations? I would like to meet someone in a similar situation – why? Because I honestly feel like only a person with the same expectations and a similar outlook on life would get along with me & because I feel more comfortable talking to people like me..Friendless people who need a strong bond - people without friends and partners.. Don't get me wrong…Most people deserve to be happy and It's good to have friends but people who have friends or families in real life are usually more focused on them (which is completely understandable) & have less time for others + I simply don't want to be replaced by anyone..I kind of envy people who can call others , true friends given I don't have an emotional bond with any of my acquaintances. Please send me a message only If you're not In a relationship and don't have friends for the same reasons I've already mentioned before
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Whenever I hear that others have friends I simply get sad because (believe it or not) If I had to choose between 20 people to talk to (acquaintances) and one special person - I'd choose that one special person without any hesitation .
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I also want to talk to others every day because..I want to see someone’s effort & be someone's first choice - not another person to have random conversations with..some people ask me "Why do you want to talk to people from Europe?" Well..Because I would like to see someone I'd get along with - In the far future - face to face :) + I don't want to wait any longer than 6 hours to receive a message - waiting 6 hours to receive a message is more than enough
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I'm by no means criticizing people who don't want to talk to others often / People who really are super busy & People who want to find someone to have unimportant conversations with - I'm aware that not everyone has the same expectations which is why everything you're reading now - is here for a reason :) All I'm suggesting is - I don't want anything temporary and I don't want to be the one always giving more than receiving.Listen people - I used to ignore being..ignored by others..always being just an option to talk to during tough times or moments of boredom.I was too young to realize that I was never important enough for most people that were a part of my life. I don't know who needs to hear this but..No one is too busy to make time for you! People make excuses to avoid others because they prioritize everything and (maybe) everyone..over them. It's true that most people are busy - but It takes only a few seconds to start a conversation (If you're into short messages) and a few minutes (1-10/15) to type a long message . Don't let anyone lie to you.
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Truth is that most people either don't like you enough to make time for you or just simply - feel no need to talk to others often but are they too busy? No..You don't need to send me a message just to ask me and tell me "Do you really want to talk every day? I like long messages but I can't promise to contact you often" If you really are unsure please don't send me a message.I don't need more acquaintances aka people to talk to - occasionally.
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I'm not trying to sound rude but conversations once or twice a week wouldn't be enough for me and I don't need them... Let me tell you one thing – A true friend would never just give up on you for no reason :) It’s always possible to find someone to have a random conversation with – someone willing to send you one message once or twice a week..but..It’s almost impossible to find people willing to make more time for you.
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I’m not asking a busy person to make time for me by changing some plans! Absolutely not! I’m here to find someone who wants to talk daily (throughout the day or maybe even night) of one’s own will.Someone looking for the same kind of connection.Strong friendships are based on mutual support. One of the best things you can do for a friend in need, is just to be there for them when they want to talk.I often see posts from people who always say how friendless they are because they don't feel loved or appreciated by their "friends" remember! A true friend - someone who truly likes you or someone who wants to get to know you - will always find time for you.
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I'm not interested in small talk/short messages - I love long and meaningful conversations. It's so easy to find someone who loves abbreviations and questions like "How are you?" How was your day? Or what are you interested in? But so hard/almost impossible to find a person who knows how to keep a conversation going & show others some effort.Building and maintaining friendships takes time and effort.Never allow pursuits or possessions to become bigger priorities than your relations with other people.Close friendships are so important to us because they are so difficult to form + Having friends can help you feel as if you belong to something that brings purpose and connection to your life
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• I do NOT respond to any „Hey,hmu” or „u want to talk?” type of messages (super short messages or messages full of abbreviations – I literally can’t stand abbreviations and acronyms in text messages) ALL messages full of abbreviations will immediately be ignored.I also don't like it when people ignore everything I say in private messages just to focus on a random question or? When they start talking only about themselves and don't ever ask me anything. I love conversations with people referring to everything I say...I want everything I say and do - to be reciprocated
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• No NSFW profiles (checking mental health subreddits NOT included as I'm a huge empath and always try to understand others) - Please! I'm not looking for anyone to flirt with and I'm not looking for a partner either. I always check people's profiles (even comment history) - To avoid guys, trying to get inappropriate pictures from adult women or? flirt with them + I don't want to see you with no clothes on so If you're on Reddit only because you want others to see what's underneath your clothes - I'm not for you! I just simply don't want to see any s e x related activity on your profile If you want to talk to me.
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• If both of us (you and I) are from the same country (I live in a non-English speaking country) - I want to communicate with you in our first language! No - Not because I don't understand English - because as you see - I do. Why then? English is simply overrated and people don't appreciate other languages as much as they should. So.. If we're from the same country and you want to talk only in English (which is quite common on reddit) - Talk to someone else. I just don't want to talk to a person from the same country as mine - in a foreign language as It's just something I don't understand even If all you want is to improve your language skills
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• Please only adult people 18-36 (age range) It doesn't matter to me If you're younger or older than me (as long as you're not underage) So.. don't worry! I just want to have discussions with emotionally mature people :)
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• I don’t respond to messages I don’t find interesting even If they're long - If after receiving and reading your message I don't feel comfortable or think "I wouldn't get along with him/her" I simply do not respond (what I’m suggesting is that I don’t always respond to someone’s first or second message because..sometimes you just know If you’d get along with someone or not- I’d never ignore anyone after days or weeks of daily conversations though) just because I don’t want to do anything forcefully & because I don’t want to lead anyone on. I read all messages but I definitely don't respond to all of them! I want to make it clear because I don't want to be accused of not responding and not reading people's messages! - Some people don't message me back as well and even If It's a bit disappointing I'm ok with that! - as long as there's no emotional bond - Not responding to someone's first or second message Is completely OK! If people think they wouldn't get along with a stranger - is there a reason to start a conversation? I don't think so. I can't stand being ignored after days or weeks of daily conversations and seeing people changing priorities over time.. but that's something different - something I don't want to go through ever again for real. If I'm really interested in someone's message it's impossible to hear from me "I'm too busy" because I know myself and If I had no time for others - I wouldn't be here. I don't want to pretend someone I'm not and always try to find some cheap excuses to avoid others. (unlike most people who don't want to talk to others)
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• Don’t ask me “Can you tell me something about yourself?” If you really want to get to know me - you can ask me questions :) I'm an open book.
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• It would be better If you guys were into emojis - like me - to describe your emotions In text messages. Two emojis - 🙂 and 🙁 are completely enough! I just don't like emotionless conversations.I also don't like it when people say "yeah" or yea"as it sounds dismissively. First impression Is everything to me! I want to see your kindness even in a text message - Emojis are very helpful to express your emotions.I don't want to meet people who say "crying Is a weakness" - It's OK to cry even If you're a guy!
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• I want to talk on reddit first (just to make sure If I'd get along with you) before moving to Discord or some other app
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• I would rather talk to a homebody - not another person who always has something to do as people who are very busy don't even have time for daily conversations
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• If you're another person interested only in "childish conversations" such as "HEYOOO! I'M BORED! Ya like Pizza or cheese? xDDDD 🤣" I'm begging you! Don't send me a message.I'm not a child anymore and such messages don't make me smile or laugh.I'm looking for someone interested In serious discussions - not another person just seeking some entertainment out of boredom . Conversations with sarcastic undertones (even when It comes to some emojis such as 🤣😂) are not for me. Your typing style matters to me! Why? when It comes to online conversations with someone new - It's not always possible to know If someone Is laughing at you.. or with you. Let me tell you something else! Jokes about cancer, disabilities and death are UNACCEPTABLE to me. If you find joy In someone else's misfortune you are not a person I want to know.
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• Time response matters to me a lot! I would never ask anyone to be online all day long and I'm NOT asking any of you for any instant messaging as I'm someone who would rather wait an hour or two to receive a proper response instead of some short and pointless messages but I'm interested only in daily conversations and I don't want to wait any longer than 6 hours to get a message from you.I don't need unbelievably long messages either! Messages as long as the second paragraph of my post - are completely enough. If you like longer messages? you can send me a longer message, but If you want to send me one word or one sentence as a response to my post - don't expect a reaction from me. I don't want to come across as rude - I just don't want to waste your time
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• I'm strongly AGAINST picking on people you don't even want to chat with - and making fun of them! I can't stand people who criticize others publicly or make fun of them! (only because they disagree with someone they don't even know) There's no place In my life for someone using Reddit, to hurt other people
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• I'm not into foul language and I definitely don't want to talk to people who swear a lot...
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• I want to meet assertive people who know what they want and always stand up for their friends
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• I want to meet someone willing to call me In the future, someone spontaneously sending me pictures of animals or food, et cetera. I want more than just text conversations.. 🌻
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Why can’t you see any of my hobbies listed down below? Because what really matters to me is..who you are (If you’re honest, talkative ,understanding, caring and trustworthy – for example) just simply – It matters to me what you’re like! not what you like.Don’t get me wrong – you can tell me what your hobbies are but from my point of view - people's hobbies are important - If you want to find a gaming buddy or If you want to meet someone to hang out with in real life and..go bowling for example.What most people seem to care about are other people's passions – I don’t. I get along with other people despite having completely different hobbies but I absolutely don’t get along with people way different than me (different expectations and outlook on life – way different sense of humor or personality traits – It’s just an example) It doesn't make ANY DIFFERENCE to me If you're a gamer or? Someone interested in photography! It doesn't make any difference - > as long as you're talkative and kind and If you also want to find someone willing to stay in your life..for good - But If you're into small talk and all you want is to...type and receive super short messages or If you're here only because you're bored and don't know what to do + If you're a very sarcastic person - I'm definitely not for you! I don't get along with overly sarcastic people turning everything into a joke. Friendships should be natural – not forced. I wouldn't get along with people who laugh at everything.. In my opinion most people are way too sarcastic.. It's quite sad... Sarcasm can also be another form of passive-aggressive behavior.
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People who want to be to friends should feel comfortable and have something in common. No - not necessarily a similar taste in music or movies but something else..Most friendships don't fizzle out because of people not having the same hobbies but..because they just simply have different expectations when It comes to something important.I'm not here out of boredom and trust me - I'm not here to meet as many people as possible.I choose quality over quantity.I highly value myself and my time & Sometimes one person but a person who makes you feel comfortable and understood - is more than enough :) We ALL can choose what kind of people we’d like to talk to and maybe even become really good friends with and I? I don’t want anyone to be disappointed.We all have some expectations after all.I know that people don't have to talk as often as possible in order to become friends but I'm interested only in daily conversations. If you really need someone to talk to due to loneliness and If you have time to talk to me daily (throughout the day and maybe even night) I always make time for others.I'm literally always available.I could even stay up all night long only to talk to someone important to me. I’m ready to commit but only If there’s some chemistry between me and someone else.I don’t do anything forcefully.
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If you want to talk to me tell me your story - tell me why you're here, what kind of friend would you like to meet :) Et cetera.Such messages are way more interesting to me than...someone's long list of hobbies. I know! It's unusual on reddit but I don't make friends based on hobbies..I want to meet someone with the same mindset as mine to finally feel understood and get close to someone new. You can share your problems with me - I absolutely don't mind "complaining" as I've been through a lot in my life.What do people usually tell you when you tell them that something's wrong? "Don't complain" or "Life's not over yet - one day you'll be happy" or "There are worse situations than yours" and..obviously "Find a therapist" Life's not a fairytale and sometimes things don't go as planned.Emotions shouldn't be bottled up.I'm sick of people always telling others "everything's gonna be ok" move on " & more..Trust me people - not everyone wants to hear "Just believe in yourself and everything's gonna be ok" Some people take it as reassurance - but others? They would rather hear something different 🙁Imagine being told that things will be okay, only for them to get worse..Do you guys know why telling someone "everything's gonna be ok" Is wrong? Because you can't see the future.
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You can't guarantee others that one day they'll finally be happy + when It comes to social interactions - We're responsible only for ourselves - not others & as you guys know people let us down quite often (sometimes even when there's no reason) so instead of telling people how they should move on, forget everything and be happy or asking them to find a therapist - be there for them! Always be willing to listen to them If you really like them or want to get to know them & don't suggest everyone in a tough situation to find a therapist because even the best therapist won't ever replace a true friend + It's quite normal to be disappointed If people always do something to hurt you. Sharing your hardships with other people in a very similar situation or exactly the same one - is VERY helpful If the other person understands you & wants to start all over by just letting it all out! Feeling emotional support instead of always hearing some "positive quotes" or someone saying "Stop complaining let's talk about something else - Is very important! "Everyone needs a shoulder to cry on. I appreciate sensitive people who always try to understand others. If after hearing a sad story all you want to say is "forget the past and move on" you're not for me. It's important to be a good listener and provide emotional support to others
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Please - If you're a completely different person than the described type of person I'm looking for (If you love abbreviations,If you don't need a stable friendship, If you're sarcastic and quiet) or If you simply disagree with my post - don't force yourself to send me a message.I want my new potential friendship to be natural which is why I want you to contact me only If your needs are the same - I don't want you to pretend someone you're not - only to please me - Pretending to be someone you're not - is the worst.I want to finally be happy again & find someone "always" wanting to talk - sending me random pictures throughout the day - food pictures or pictures of some animals. What is the most important to me? I want to find people who value online friendships as much as they would value real life ones as there's another human being on the other side
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No comments please.Only Private messages and chat requests 🌺
I know It's possible to meet people with exactly the same expectations as mine but It's just not easy because most people are Interested In temporary and entertaining conversations. People like me are just "different" I really want to finally find someone who loves emojis as much as I do.. someone who loves sweet, warm and serious discussions at the same time. Emojis really do - change conversations 😊

For some context, a tech-priest has discovered a Genestealer Cult on a Mechanicus world and has decided to use them for his own ends. He tells them that he will wipe them out unless they perform an uprising during the national "Ascension Day" celebrations, where he will use the chaos they create to seize power for himself.
The Magus of the cult Claress is old and decrepit, she feels that they missed the time they were actually meant to rise up decades ago and the cult has atrophied since then. Worse, after a series of failed raids their best fighters were killed or imprisoned. She knows they have no chance against the crack Mechanicus troops who have pressed the world for generations but facing no other option the Cult begins its preparations and sends messages to the uncorrupted workers unions and factories that have pledged their support if an uprising against the Mechanicus happens (not knowing that they're dealing with a cult).
I like this section as while it falls into the modern 40k novel habit of listing a bunch of codex units and describing how they fight, I think that it does a good job of portraying the awkward beginnings of an uprising, where nobody actually knows what will happen that spirals into the Genestealer Cult suddenly realising that if they work together they might have a chance.

‘This is the end of us,’ she hissed. ‘The priest will use us, and then he will destroy us. Or imprison us in his jars and make us his experiments. All our ways, our traditions, our faith. He will melt it out of us. There will be nothing left but his science.’
‘Child…’ Claress repeated.
‘We should flee,’ Davien almost shouted at her. ‘All of us, each to a different hole. We should abandon this city. We should carry our words and our blood to other places. We’re finished here! I’m sorry, magus, I’m sorry.’ And she was simultaneously weeping and incandescent with rage. At herself, at Triskellian, at Claress. ‘I have ruined us! I’m a traitor. Punish me, magus. Destroy me.’
‘You have listened to the lies of the enemy, it is true,’ Claress said softly. Her hand fell on Davien’s shoulder, a husk of a thing, no weight to it. ‘And you may be punished in time, that is also true. But for now, you are one of us, and you must play your part in what is to come.’
‘But it’s a sham!’ Davien exclaimed. ‘It’s some Taskmaster plan, some infighting between them. It isn’t the time!’ Struck by a sudden hope, she searched the old woman’s face. ‘Is it? Is all this… the Emperor’s plan for us? Can it be?’ And before she could hear any empty comforts, she rushed on. ‘Tell me truly, magus. Please tell me.’
The sad calm on Claress’ face was heartbreaking. ‘I don’t know, child. I wish I could give you all the grand certainties in the world. I wish I could give you the words of fire and faith I’d speak in the chapel, of the Many-Handed Emperor and His angels. But that is what faith is for, Davien.’ She sagged, sinking in on herself a little more. ‘Take me to my chamber. I must rest before tomorrow.’
‘You can’t take to the streets, magus. Not you.’
‘I must. We all shall play our part. We shall triumph together, or we shall fall. I do not want to be left alone if my kin are taken from me.’
Davien led her deeper into the maze of cellars. All around, the Congregation were in a frenzy of preparation. The building was haemorrhaging the faithful as they rushed out to carry the magus’ words across all the poor districts of the city. Out there, all Davien’s distant kin would be arming themselves. And the others, all those who weren’t blood but who had suffered beneath the crushing iron boot of the tech-priests, they’d be gathering too. All of them cast against the iron walls of the Hollow Men.
When she had Claress back to the old woman’s bed, she helped her lie down, hearing joints click and crack. The magus lay there, staring at the low ceiling, then shifted her head to look at the painting of the Emperor on the far wall. It was flaking now, half-obscured with grime. A depiction from the time of the Great-Aunts and Uncles, when the blood of the Emperor was stronger in them, so that none of the Congregation could show their faces for fear of being known for what they were. A figure with four arms: two human hands and two with radiant claws like crescent moons. An elliptical head split by a great benevolent smile that was all teeth. The eyes were beatific, murderous, inhuman. Davien had stared at the image often, feeling out its contradictions, letting them speak to the human and the inhuman within her. It frightened her; it inspired her.
‘I hear them singing to me.’ Claress’ dry voice rose to her. ‘The angels. They throng the cold void. And I sing back. I tell them, We are here. We are faithful. We’re waiting for you. And their great wings carry them across the freezing spaces, through the perilous labyrinth of the warp. They are coming, Davien. They tell me, We hear you. We come for you. Only have faith, and you shall become part of us. The Blessed Union, child. Our destiny.’ She laughed softly, coughed, shuddering with each dry convulsion. ‘They came from the stars, our ancestors. The first on Morod to bear our blood was an angel’s child, and so we are children of angels. But weaker, each generation. I lack the strength of the Aunts, the might of the Great-Aunts. I am too human to be truly strong. But I hear them, Davien. They are so beautiful. There is nothing on this ugly world to compare to them. I need to see them with my own eyes, before I grow too old.’
And Davien, one of the diminished survivors of a younger generation still, thought about how thin her own blood was, how little of the angel remained. ‘Do you think the priests’ Ascension Day will be our ascension too? Or will all our blood just end up on the streets and in that priest’s laboratory?’
Claress’ yellow gaze switched to her. ‘Faith is all that we have, when the machinery of this world comes to crush us. I hear the angels. They come to us, but space is vast and the warp is a trickster. All we can do is believe that the Many-Handed Emperor will not abandon His faithful in their time of need. That He is a true divinity, beyond the enthroned corpse the machine-priests worship. Our god lives, Davien. Our god is life, life in all its many forms and guises. Theirs is dust and ancient mechanisms. We must prevail, or we give the universe over to entropy and death. Only by our truths can life eternal survive and spread throughout the cosmos. Do you understand me, child? Do you have faith?’
And Davien thought, We are going to die tomorrow, on the streets and in their arena. This is not the true uprising we were promised, it is some priest’s gambit. But she couldn’t hold to those thoughts against the old woman’s rustle of a voice. It got under her skin. It spoke to all those services in the buried chapel. It spoke to her blood.
Easy to have faith when you were strong, after all. And what was the value of it, then? But they stood under the steel hammer of the tech-priests, and they would rise up nonetheless. Let Triskellian think it was all to his plan. The Congregation would rise because it was their time. Who said that he was using them? And even though, intellectually, she knew the truth, she still felt that fire in her, that burned away all doubt.
‘I believe, magus,’ she said fiercely. ‘Tell me what I must do.’
The next dawn, even as the tech-priests were attending their early Ascension Day devotions, the streets of the South Chasm districts erupted into armed uprising.
Davien saw it from the rooftops, crossing from building to building by the gantries, bridges and ropes that the skitarii periodically brought down but the locals always strung up again. All night the Congregation’s messengers had been running like sparks through the poorer districts of the city, seeing which claves would catch their fires. All of the true faithful rose up without question, of course. Right now she could only see the more inarguably human of them, those marked only by a pallidity of skin, patches of chitinous scales, unblinking yellow eyes perhaps. No unusual traits on as poisonous a world as this. Behind and within the walls of the tenements, though, the older generations of the god-touched would be stirring; would be eager. They had waited all their long lives, after all. They had hidden away as their younger offspring had busied themselves in the world, unable to show their distorted faces. They had known only the burning fire of their faith, and now that faith told them, Rise!
The streets were thronging with people, just ordinary people. And yet, not ordinary, for in many of those bodies a few drops of divine blood ran. But they were not the superhuman figures of Imperial myth. Not the Adeptus Astartes that had been made into little gods; not the tech-priests, elevated by machinery until they had forgotten what it was like to have two living feet on the ground. People, with nothing but their faith, and what tools and weapons they could scavenge or make themselves. And today they would attempt to wrest control of their destiny from those who had ordered and limited their whole lives.
And they would die, she knew. Heavy-hearted she watched them muster, factorum workers clapping each other on the shoulder, hard greetings called across the crowd. There were banners there, and some were of the Many-Handed Emperor Scattering His Angels Upon the Faithful, but there were others, too. Crude standards celebrating this ward or that factorum, this mining crew, even one for the staff of a workers’ refectory. There was an air of festival, just as if they were celebrating the damned Ascension Day after all.
And then the first skitarii came into sight. Davien knew she should be away by now, off on the errand that Claress had given her, but she couldn’t. She had to see if the whole venture would collapse into tragedy.
A wedge of red-clad cybernetic soldiers ordered itself precisely across the street ahead of the gathering mob. Behind them, a pair of dragoons stalked in, towering over the soldiers’ heads. Their riders couched forked lances snapping with sparks, even as the servitor beneath them, merged with the workings of the machine, directed the Ironstrider’s jerky motions. The crowd stilled, seeing all those carbines levelled at them, knowing more would be on the way.
The skitarii alpha called out, voice amplified until it rattled Davien’s skull like thunder. ‘By the order of the Fabricator General, you are required to disperse. There will be no second warning.’
And Claress stepped forwards from the ranks of the crowd, standing ahead of them, raising her staff. Somehow her high, clear voice carried even to Davien. ‘Faith and freedom! Faith for the true Emperor’s blood! Freedom from the yoke!’
The skitarii opened fire.
Davien screamed when they did it, curled away from the blaze and heat of it, knowing this was surely the end even as the uprising began. But in the echo of the shots she dared look, and saw Claress somehow untouched, standing with bodies to her left and right, the faithful who had put themselves in harm’s way. And not so many bodies, even, not compared to the vast mass of humanity that was packing the street. Angry humanity, crammed with grievances.
Claress’ voice called out again, and now she was sounding the charge. Davien saw members of the Congregation break into a run on either side of her, funnelling through the streets in a great rush, wielding hammers and prybars and power-cutters, emptying their shotguns and automatics into the skitarii wedge. The dragoons were in motion instantly, striding over the heads of their human-sized allies, accelerating into a counter-charge with lances lowered. Davien saw the first connect, its huge iron feet sending insurgents flying even as the lance swept an arc through the crowd, charring and burning. Then an eye-rending beam of light seared into it. One of the mining crews had a rock laser set up on the rooftop across from Davien and they drew lines of molten steel across the dragoon’s chassis before striking something vital.
In an instant the walking machine flashed incandescently and exploded, laying waste to the nearest fighters in a horrible toll of shrapnel and shredded flesh. For everyone left standing, though, that was the signal to rush forwards. Moments later the skitarii were giving ground, shooting and falling back. Or just falling, dragged down by the crowd who saw them as nothing more than the tools of their oppressors.
And then Davien was off, roof to roof, eyes open for when the tech-priests’ more subtle instruments decided the higher reaches were their territory. There would be rangers up here sniping down at the crowd soon enough. There would be the murderous rust-stalkers trying to flank the Congregation to bring down its leaders with their blades and claws. She had to be ahead of all of that. She had work to do, a task entrusted to her by the magus herself.
She shadowed the forerunners of the mob until they exploded out before Nilhetum Square, where the rail depot was. More of the Palatium’s troops were disembarking even as everyone arrived, hurriedly evacuating the train and taking up position to defend it. And if the Congregation wished to reach the Palatium, they needed to control the train line, and they needed to take it swiftly before the tech-priests began destroying their own infrastructure to deny it to the rebels.
There were more than just skitarii out there. She saw the low, trundling shapes of Kataphron servitors grinding down ramps from flatbed carriages, armoured human head, torso and arms set into a mechanised assault vehicle that was also their lower body. Davien felt a flare of rage at the tech-priests and their meddling. They took the divine flesh and carved it and pared it down, merged it with their devices. Nothing could be left alone. Nothing had any value until it was incorporated into their machines. And, on a grander scale, no individual lives had worth unless they were components of the wider priestly engine that spanned the human universe and enslaved everything it touched to their cold metal vision.
The Kataphron were terrors, nigh invulnerable to the weapons the foot-soldiers of the Congregation had brought, but by now the rioters had been given the chance to bring in their own big guns. With a choking roar and a belch of smoke one of the big quarry trucks raced out of a side street, already up to its lumbering top speed. It was a heavily armoured Goliath model, its entire front given over to rock-grinding blades that would chew hungrily on skitarii machine-flesh or the armour of the Kataphron. And, in its wake, a flurry of robed figures bearing a banner showing that familiar many-armed figure. The Aunts and the Uncles had come out from their cellars and holes, from their forgotten wall-spaces where they had waited for generations. Even as the Goliath powered forwards, meeting the lead Kataphron head-on and making a jagged mess of its armour, the elders were leaping around and over it, brandishing knives, pistols, or just their own hooked talons. And there was more. Davien felt a voice in her head, then. A singing so pure and beautiful that she thought it must be the angels, come at last. All the Congregation must have heard it, from the way they redoubled their pace and closed joyously with the skitarii and the machines.
A great figure, head and shoulders over the rank and file, had come into the square – a Great-Aunt, one of the true elders, shrouded in streamers and rags of cloth that could not hide the divinity of her form. She sang, and the Congregation echoed her, voices upraised in prayer and praise. In one of her three hands was a banner, not the crude handmade things the crowd had spent last night creating but something ancient, preserved for this day over generations. It showed not the expected Imperial visage, but an emblem with that same long-jawed head and a trailing cog-backed body; a serpentine shape curled in upon itself, one end a hooked claw, the other hungering jaws ready to devour the tech-priests and all their works.
The skitarii turned their weapons on her, blasting away, but the banner had electrified the Congregation so that they were swarming the lines, clambering over the Kataphron, braving the massed fire of their foes. Davien saw explosives go off, mining charges devastating bodies on both sides. She saw brutal knots of knife-work and bayonets and the bludgeoning butts of carbines, no quarter given.

I had my QHHT session with a very experienced practitioner 12 days ago.
The primary past life that was shown to me included some pretty intense trauma, which shocked me for a day or so, but then I went back to feeling like my old self. When I re-listened to my recording there was nothing new, I realised I remembered everything. Not sure, that may be normal.
The past life didn't really seem made up, but at the same time it did? I did see pictures and people and whole scenes, but at the same time I really don't know. I was with my soul mate in that life, but he looked weirdly similar to that guy in Outlander and I looked kind of similar to the woman (forgot their names now.)... Seems a bit strange.
I can't tell if it was regency era or Victorian but that's ok. Anyhow, I am very, very well travelled and studied history, but I cannot identify the place. It was essentially like a mix between Holland and UK with cliffs like those in western Ireland. But then I also described them as dark "Granite cliffs" after I talked to a friend who studies geology a few days prior, and granite cliffs came up. I know people will tell me about different universes or whatnot but it seems odd to me.
However, it doesn't really matter whether I've made things up or not. The main part is that I went there for some help with my mental health (anxiety/depression). I heard amazing stories. Unfortunately, I don't feel much better so far. I really wanted this to help me. And I also can't go back for another session because of the costs associated with it.
I'd love to hear what you guys think and what your experiences with QQHT are.

I want to be a woman
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Yeah I don't know how else to describe my current mood. I like the way they look, I like their voices, I like some fashion items they get access to. But people are weird about it, probably because they are anxious about other things and combined with my idiosyncrasies, this causes me to endlessly ruminate about it.
I haven't deeply explored and considered every possible psychological phenomenon that could cause me to behave in the way I do or desire what I do, because you can't really do that, it's facing a combinatorial explosion you have no chance of conquering in a reasonable time frame. But I have done it enough that I'm tired of doing it. And it wasn't a very efficient search either way because that's not how humans work. We don't do exhaustive search like computers, we do heuristics, that's the point of emotions. And the heuristics of mine are saying:
I want to be a woman
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That's all there is to it. They could be wrong. I'm scared of the impression it would make on others. I feel stuck and question if my lack of willingness at times, to do anything other than engage with this topic, is escapism or depression. I need to actually take action so I can have more data to work with, what does it mean to live anyway? To choose, to change, to make memories?
Sorry if this is just increasing the noise to signal ratio, maybe it should have been a journal page instead of a post. I just felt like expressing it for some reason, I don't know why.

Context
Michael Jackson’s song 'Smooth Criminal' featured on his seventh album Bad (1987). The song is about a woman being attacked in their apartment. It used the refrain “Annie Are You Ok?” which is used to teach students CPR on CPR mannequin Annie (Wikipedia, 2023). “Resusci Anne was developed by the Norwegian toy maker Åsmund S. Lærdal and the Austrian-Czech physician Peter Safar and American physician James Elam” (Wikipedia, 2023). The oldest version is the proto-CPR mannequin of the world. It was invented after Asmund “was alerted to… physicians and engineers in Baltimore that had a new and much more effective method for resuscitation, involving mouth-to-mouth breathing”. The creation was sentimental as Tore, his son, had experienced drowning. The doll was modelled after the face of the death mask, ‘L’ inconnue de la Seine’ translated from French to English meaning ‘The unknown of the Seine’ (A rich heritage, 2023). They chose the face of a young female as male doctors would’ve felt uncomfortable practising on a same-sexed doll . Additionally, to resurrect a girl “millions of times is at the centre of a macabre mystery.”
Legend
Legend states, a young female corpse was pulled from the river Seine, the death mask was moulded on the corpse's face by a pathologist as they were beheld by her beauty. The corpse awaited with other bodies for identification which never came in the Paris Morgue. This practise was real as “two-thirds of the corpses dealt with by the morgue fished out of the Seine" were "suicides, accidental drownings or murders” (The Guardian, 2007).
Eric Nadeau stated "the pathologist asked for a mould to be made of the young woman’s face and the closest moulder was [their] very own Michel Lorenzi who founded Artlier Lorenzi, a molding workshop founded in 1871 “19, Rue Racine” (Morgan, 2017) . A suggestion from a now deleted post by users: and the link provided by in this thread provided contradicting info, Phoebe Judge stated that Eric Nardeau stated that the mask wasn’t created of a corpse, but Lorenzi stated in a 1914 French interview, but of a living model in 1866. The mask was made due to the model's popularity with other artists (The unknown woman, p.8, 2023).
According to Nadeau: “Michel Lorenzi, who was from an old moulding family based in a small village near Lucca, Italy and arrived in Paris around 1850” (Morgan, 2017). Although, another source stated that “Michel had a house in Piano. di Coreglia, came to settle in Paris around 1868” (LORENZI Pierre- Sculptor, n.d). It's possible the mask wasn't created in France but Italy according to the date Michel Lorenzi moved and the creation year of the mask provided by Nadeau.
Debunkers
Claire Forestier, a descendant of the original Lorenzi stated the death mask’s face has " full, rounded cheeks ... smooth skin…[usually akin to] casts taken from living faces [as they are] are so clear, so detailed, that when you look at the eyelids you can just see the eyeballs' movement underneath. That's the case with the Inconnue" (The Guardian, 2007).
“… moored at their headquarters near the Pont d'Austerlitz, Chief Brigadier Pascal Jacquin was less than convinced that the girl was dead when the mask was made” according to them “the drowned and suicides, they never look so peaceful. They're swollen, they don't look nice" (Grange, 2013).
"In 1960, Pierre Lièvre reported to the magazine "Chercheurs et Curieux." The interview stated the then owner of Atelier Lorenzi's ancestor (presumably Michel Lorenzi) had "molded the Inconnue at the request of a forensic doctor, as quoted on March 28, 2020 in the "Cousu Main editions blog titled "L'Inconnue de la Seine" on cousumain.worldpress.com"". The writer Jean Ducourneau, whilst writing The Church of Céline "(referenced below) [35, 36]", made a visit to rue Racine, they wrote the found that the mask "had been lifted on the face of a very pretty workshop model, reminding us that it is technically impossible for this mask to have been lifted on a corpse," reiterating the technical impossibility of this veil being lifted from a deceased body. "(In fact very quickly the rigidity cadaver blocks the mandibular joint and the smile would rather have been a rictus or a grimace)"
Origin of the Legend
“The name L'Inconnue de la Seine is quite late and probably dates from Ernst Benkard's collection of photographs in 1926 [25, 26] … placed the Unknown Woman of the Seine on the cover of his collection of death masks, Das ewige Antlitz (The Eternal Face) [Figure 20]. The book was published in 1926. The myth of her death mask probably originates from Rainer Maria Rilke’s Cahiers de Malte Laurids Brigge, published in Germany in 1910, in French 1911*.* “Rilke arrived in Paris in 1902 and stayed at 3 rue de l'Abbé-de-l'Épée near rue Racine. [He] mentions the mask of the Unknown woman associated with that of Beethoven, in the window of the molder Lorenzi, rue Racine. “The face of the young drowned woman that was cast in the morgue, because it was beautiful and because it smiled, because it smiled so deceptively . ". [23L page 72 Points edition] [Figure 11].” (Jean-Pierre, 2022).
Beginning Art History
According to Gaelle-Salliot (2017), Lorenzi’s grandniece stated that the death mask was first used for the 19th tetes d’expression at Ecole Beaux Arts. The author cited Edourd Papet’s (2008, p. 20) fact that the death mask was earliest depicted in Charles Bargue and Jean Leon-Gerome’s cours de dessin a drawing manual which features a drawing of Homer. She is depicted in Figure 2 (Gaëlle-Salliot, 2017, p.7). This drawing manual didn't reference a story of that of drown girl etc.
Potential real facts about the Jane Doe
An alternative name for the live cast is ‘La Belle Italienne’, from Frenct to English meaning, ‘The Beautiful Italian’. She’s seen in A. Daprato & Co. Boston, Manufacturer of Plastic Arts. “Several plaster casts manufacturer in the United States added a portrait of the girl in their [catalogue] collection, but in all [catalogue] she is named as La Belle Italienne. Why Italian?. This is a curious fact, it is a true information or an error because the girl was unknown?” She is seen with the name in “P.P. Caproni & Bro. Boston, Plastic Arts. 1911 cat [-ologue]. Masks n° 13525 La Belle Italienne, from life $ 1,00” (Felice, 2012). “Forestier thinks she must have been at most 16 for her skin to be so firm and smooth” (The Guardian, 2007). “According to the draughtsman Georges Villa, who received this information from his master, the painter Jules Joseph Lefebvre, the impression was taken from the face of a young model who died of tuberculosis around 1875, but no trace of the original cast remained” (M, Bessy, 1981 cited by Wikipedia, 2023)”. However, according to Marious Grout, the model was famous and working for “artists around 1875” (Gaëlle-Salliot, pp.6-7, 2015).
False leads
According to Alvarez (2015) the model of mask gained success in German with their father in a Hamburg factory that reproduced the mask (Gaëlle-Salliot, 2017). This fact doesn’t lead to anywhere. She was also identified as a Russian prostitute named Valerie who committed suicide, buried in Pere- Lachaise (Gaëlle-Salliot, 2017). Although, this comes from the fictional book The Mask by William Wood (G. E. W. H, 1951, p.6). As well as, Ewa Lazlo, a creation of John Goto, who wrote a fictional investigative story identifying the model. They “assumed that people would have a postmodern view and treat it as fictional," and they "really didn't expect [people] to take it seriously" as people online took his story to be factual (Grange, 2013).
Conclusion
She has the artistic reverence and mystery of a once youthful girl alike Afghan girl. “In light of the Cold War, the portrait was described as the "First World's Third World Mona Lisa"” according to S. Hesford and Kozol (2005) cited by Wikipedia, 2023. A title formally given to L’ inconnue de la Seine “because of her mysterious smile, “Mona Lisa of suicide” (Aragon)” (Jean-Pierre, 2022). The legend casts a great shadow over her identity, as the story ends with a corpse; she is muse who’s story is reinvented time and time again. It is possible that not resources all have been exhausted, there is potentially more information that could be obtained by the Artlier Lorenzi. Additionally, we still don’t known the causes-effects that lead to Georges Villa obtaining information about her, it is possible that other documents about this figure exist from this contemporary art community . If this person is Italian - a small possibility – this person’s life could have been documented in Italian records waiting for a face to match the details.
TLDR: An unidentified model possibly of Italian origin, was used to create a live cast of a bust. It was recreated repeatedly. The bust was misreported to a be a “death mask” of girl who drowned in the river Seine, in late 19th century France, from a pathologist in awe of her beauty created the mask. Long after, she became a muse for many artists. Then, she became the model of the first CPR doll in the 1960s. Finally, the victim of a melodic tragedy ‘Smooth Criminal’. No one knows the model’s identity.
Fact-file
Name: Unknown
Age: 16+/- (The Guardian, 2007)
Born: 1850+/- (Based upon the possible creation year of the mask from The unknown woman, p.8, 2023 and possible age range of the model from the Guardian, 2007)
Modelled: 1866? (The Unknown woman, p.8, 2023)
Death year: 1875? (Bessy, 1981 cited by Wikipedia, 2023)
Death cause: Tuberculosis? (Bessy, 1981 cited by Wikipedia, 2023)
Ethnicity: Italian? (Felice, 2012)
Occupation: Model for live casts
Place of work: Lucca, Italy (LORENZI Pierre- Sculptor, n.d) or Artlier Lorenzi, France (Morgan, 2017)?
Employer: Michel Lorenzi (The Guardian, 2007 et al.)
References:

• Bessy, Maurice (1981). 'Mort, où est ton visage?' Monaco: Éditions du Rocher via Wikipedia (2023). 'L' inconnue de la Seine'. Available at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27Inconnue_de_la_Seine [Accessed: 18th March 2024]
• Felice, Andrea (2012). ''La Belle Italienne'. FELICECALCHI The Plaster Casting Journal'. Available at: https://felicecalchi.blogspot.com/2012/05/la-belle-italienne.html [Accessed: 7th Dec 2023]
• Gaëlle-Salliot, Anne (2015). 'Drowned Muse: Casting the Unknown Woman of the Seine Across the Tides of Modernity'. Oxford University Press. Available at: https://books.google.com/books?id=1QBlCgAAQBAJ [Accessed: 18th March 2024]
• 'G. E. W. H' (1951). The Sydney Morning Herald. Available at: https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=tPkQAAAAIBAJ&pg=PA6&dq=The+Sydney+Morning+Herald+l%27inconnue+de+la+seine&article_id=2195,5150417&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiDqpGim5iGAxX8_7sIHQwoB7UQ6AF6BAgHEAI [Accessed: 6th Dec 2023]
• Guardian (2007). 'Ophelia of the Seine'. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2007/dec/01/france.art [Accessed: 6th Dec 2023]
• Grange, Jeremy (2013). 'Resusci Anne and L'Inconnue: The Mona Lisa of the Seine'. BBC News. Available at: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-24534069. [Accessed: 6th Nov 2023]
• Jean-Pierre, Haberer (2022). 'From “The Unknown Woman of the Seine” to Resusci Anne'. CHAR-fr. 22nd Nov 2022. Available at: https://char-fr.net/*Haberer-Jean-Pierre*.html [Accessed: 18th March 2024]
• LORENZI Pierre- Sculptor (n.d). 'Monumentsmorts'. Available at: https://monumentsmorts.univ-lille.fauteu1881/lorenzipierre/ [Accessed: 7th Dec 2023]
• Morgan, Emma (2021). ''Journées du patrimoine: Meet the maker behind world's most kissed face'.' Connexion France. Available at: https://beta.connexionfrance.com/tag/art [Accessed: 9th Dec 2023]
• One Million Lives, (2023). 'A rich Heritage'. Available at: https://one-million-lives.com/a-rich-heritage/ [Accessed: 6th Dec 2023]
• This is criminal (2023). 'Episode 223: The Unknown Woman Air Date: June 16, 2023'. VOX MEDIA [Online]. Available at: https://www.connexionfrance.com/article/People/Interviews/Atelier-Lorenzi-historic-moulding-studio-workshop-opens-doors-to-public-for-one-day-for-Journees-du-patrimoine. [Accessed: 6th Dec 2023] p.8
• Wikipedia (2023). 'Afghan Girl'. Available at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Afghan_Girl [Accessed: 7th Dec, 2023]
• Wikipedia (2023). 'L'inconnue de la Seine (masque mortuaire)'. Available at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27Inconnue_de_la_Seine [Accessed: 8th Dec 2023]
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That's it, I've just had enough and I can't take it anymore. For several days I have been seriously considering seeking help, but I have been putting it off. Tomorrow I am going to seek help at an addiction treatment center. I don't know who I am anymore and what I should do with my life, I feel like a pirate at sea who has lost his compass and doesn't know what to do, the only thing I know is that we have to take some action. I tried to sell my car for two days and the thought of talking to people gave me terrible anxiety. This led to terrible pain that is difficult for me to describe. I'm very depressed right now and yesterday I was crying and suddenly I had a terrible panic attack, I got up from the chair and ran out of the house so as not to do something stupid. It was real hell, I felt like I was dying. I decided to go to the hospital but they didn't take much care of me, I was counting on staying there overnight because I was afraid for myself that something would happen to me. While returning home, I felt the fear and fear that I was dying getting stronger. It's good that I have a wonderful woman who kept my spirits up and told me that I wasn't dying. I immediately went to bed and focused only on my breathing, my blood pressure was 180/120. I have never felt like I did yesterday in my life, it was hell on earth. Today it's better, but I'm still going to seek help tomorrow, I needed to get it out. Alcohol and depression are true evil incarnate on earth.

This is just a personal tale, and I hope it is OK to share it. I'd love to hear anyone else's similar stories of acceptance and understanding, and I hope this one is uplifting for readers.
I am 52 and have a friend (m53, I will call him Angus for privacy) whom I've known since around 1996. We met when I was living in a house share with mutual friends, and he came to visit them.
We are all Scottish, and in our time nobody was diagnosed with neurodiversity, if you couldn't learn like the other kids you were sent to a "remedial" class, with attending stigma etc. Fortunately, I never needed learning support (saved by my hyperlexia!)
On that first meeting, Angus spotted my PC tucked away in the corner of the living room and asked who owned it (back then, only proper nerds and geeks had a PC at home.) That sparked a conversation that lasted all night, we talked about games, programming, hardware - everything! He never once talked down to me, or mansplained anything, or did anything other than fully accept that it was normal for a woman to be a geek, and he let me go on and on about my (then) special interest. I loved him for it from the start.
We haven't lived in the same country for about 20 years, but we've always kept in touch (which is a rarity for me!)
Angus is extremely intelligent and deep thinking, but this still caught me by surprise. He has obviously taken on board everything I've said about my AuDHD (diagnosed 9 years ago, but probably only openly discussing it with friends in the last 3 or 4 years.)
Last night he educated ME on my masking (and boy do I need that because my insight is poor). He described situations where he saw my mask fall, and the people who I could drop it with. He finally understands why there has always been two versions of me and that he always got the real, unmasked me. He described how my face changes when I'm with someone I don't need to mask with.
To have this good friend even think this deeply about me, and be able to talk about it with me in such an open, accepting way, and with such great information for me to digest and use, well it has been utterly joyful, there's no other word for it.
Happy, happy me today.

Hello Roleplayers!
I've felt the itch to write something a little less on the modern side and rather based in the good old west, inspired by the read dead redemption universe! I would like to have this all be about being a little possessive in a relationship, a fling, whatever. Make it all about the passion, the struggle, the craving of romance and need to be with each other all while there is the ever-so-present need to fight for what truly is good, or perhaps, just for that fat cash. Showdowns, robbery, heists, being on the run, maybe a little touch of fantasy and myth in here to make it spicy and interesting.
This could go any way. I have plenty of ideas I would love to share and discuss but the main plot or premise is described below:
I would like this to be based in the region / map of the RDR2 world we can create and shift as we like, so no 100% accuracy is expected. I'd like both our characters to be familiar with the culture and vocabulary of course, maybe have a runaway outlaw involved as one of them, perhaps the other even a figure of the law.
I am perfectly fine if you want to play as canon character! (Bonus points of you write Arthur Morgan for me ❤️)
I don't want either of them to be alienated by slang or quirks that may end up creating any unnecessary friction. I do like a good little difference between characters and make it as natural as possible, since no one could ever really get along 100% from the start, but I want both characters to have a mutual understanding of the time and habits.
A possible plot point could be that they are getting together as outlaws, maybe coming from rivaling gangs, maybe it could be an enemies to lovers situation, or perhaps one of the characters is rather on the "good" side, perhaps even on the side of law to create some tension there.
Events that can take place naturally are great droughts, the outburst of illness, the general fight for survival in difficult times and conspiracy, all of this combined in a longterm roleplay! This can involve characters of all origin, rich and poor, I am very open and like different dynamics!
There are a few things I want to make clear here though! I am looking for this to be a detailed, extensive and hopefully longterm roleplay! That being said I prefer third-person writing, no self-inserts and longer posts. I am talking 2+ paragraphs that consist of more than three sentences per paragraph. Also, I only write on discord, no exceptions, sorry (:
I like my roleplay partners to communicate a lot, in the sense of saying if anything is the matter, criticism and input is much welcome as well as constructive conversations. Further details to be discussed separately!
The following will be an example of my own writing in detail and literacy, something I would expect at least somewhat matched by my partner hopefully. This sample is unrelated to this posts idea and not an open starter! :
The Moon stood high that night upon the treeline, mist rising from the dampness that had been gathering in grass and bushes keeping the surroundings shrouded in mystery as it seemed. In the depths of the forest was a light however, red and smoking, a campfire of someone who had settled there, and that someone was currently being hunted. Deeper in the undergrowth and bushes surrounding the little campsite crouched a woman watching the group of three that occupied the camp it seemed, and also, the surroundings. However, this was no ordinary sight as the occupants of the camp were crimilas on the loose hunted by the law and with personal interest on them, which brought Ilyana there.
She was a sword for hire, eager to complete her job and wanting to be certain this was done correctly so she could gather her pay. It was the least she could do, as much as she needed to, since there was a certain reputation she had to keep up, and also, she needed to keep herself fed and also alive. Thus, she would need to be careful with her approach. The long, slender blade she owned was still sheathed along her side, and she was near crawling forward on all four, her joints bending and used to this, given that she was well aware of who she really was. What she did not know however, was that there was another hunter present that night, that there was someone else stalking the campsite.
Seated along the fire were three man, all brutes with muscles, their skin scarred and dirty, their hands busy tearing apart venison and refilling mugs of whatever they had carried along. They were deep enough in the woods to remain hidden and yet, they had left tracks that were easily found by those that knew where and how to look. Ilyana could not hear what they spoke of, but she knew if she wanted this to work out well, she needed to be careful, and keep her senses sharp.
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If this catches your eye please reach out and message me :)

Could one of you people kindly direct me to where I can find the true definition for late diagnosed, adult, autistic, woman that's been fighting homelessness, bullying, and gang stalking for more than 4 yrs. I seriously googled it myself and all I see are images of a purple headed lady that has all the following... at least 3 meals a day brought to her lap via door dash, all the soda and snacks her belly can hold, brand new clothes from weekly shopping sprees, brand new jewelry also bought weekly, new makeup, new hair color, all the electronic devices one can wish upon, an airbnb to reside in during the week while skirting away on weekend hotel getaways, and a new Lexus to drive herself around during this permanent life vacation. Im sure i have missed many descriptors. Please to note, there were also videos of said lady, but I can't find the proper words to describe such acts that are burned into my memories. Any help would be greatly appreciated, and there may even be an entry into a diamond art painting including scabs, dog hair, and eye boogers. Thank you in advance!

Hey names Nathan 32 from Australia. Looking for longterm friends so sick of ghosters and even more so sick of talking to ppl then they try tell me to sub to there of no thanks Anyway I’m a chill person easy to get along with. Non judgemental and open minded. Bored and relaxing and just want a meaningfull conversation. Preferably woman as I have better flowing conversation with them. when u msg me let me know how u would describe ur personality

Hey names Nathan 32 from Australia. Looking for longterm friends so sick of ghosters and even more so sick of talking to ppl then they try tell me to sub to there of no thanks Anyway I’m a chill person easy to get along with. Non judgemental and open minded. Bored and relaxing and just want a meaningfull conversation. Preferably woman as I have better flowing conversation with them. when u msg me let me know how u would describe ur personality

Hey names Nathan 32 from Australia. Looking for longterm friends so sick of ghosters and even more so sick of talking to ppl then they try tell me to sub to there of no thanks Anyway I’m a chill person easy to get along with. Non judgemental and open minded. Bored and relaxing and just want a meaningfull conversation. Preferably woman as I have better flowing conversation with them. when u msg me let me know how u would describe ur personality

Hey names Nathan 32 from Australia. Looking for longterm friends so sick of ghosters and even more so sick of talking to ppl then they try tell me to sub to there of no thanks Anyway I’m a chill person easy to get along with. Non judgemental and open minded. Bored and relaxing and just want a meaningfull conversation. Preferably woman as I have better flowing conversation with them. when u msg me let me know how u would describe ur personality

This song is the song where I have the most issue with when it comes to the fans' interpretation of it. Their biggest argument for this is the football references, but they fail to consider that the football metaphors were just a way for Taylor Swift to draw parallels between the (American) football world and her situation.
In this analysis, I'll be doing a line-by-line breakdown of why this is not a Travis Kelce song, but is instead a song that she wrote where she is directly addressing her fans, much like how "But Daddy I Love Him", and "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me" were written.
Here it goes. Please bear with me!
This happens once every few lifetimes

• Suggests a rare and significant event. Taylor's comeback after a major public backlash (Kim Kardashian's Snakegate incident) and hiatus was a unique moment in her career, and in anyone's public career, really.

These chemicals hit me like white wine

• The "chemicals" symbolize the rush of emotions and excitement, akin to the thrill she feels from reconnecting with her fans by organising the Eras Tour.
• "White wine" can imply a pleasant, intoxicating experience, like the support she gets from her fans (look up her sales and streaming charts).

What if I told you I'm back?

• The "you" here directly addresses her fans, announcing her return to the public eye after a period of "absence".
• IMO this line is not at all a shade to Joe, but directly references the line "but I come back stronger than a 90s trend" in willow.

The hospital was a drag / Worst sleep that I ever had

• This song is a direct reference to epiphany, and, on a bigger picture, the pandemic. We must remember that her plans ("Loverfest") were all cancelled thanks to Covid.
• The line also metaphorically refers to her time in "hiding" or dealing with the aftermath of the public fallout, which was a difficult and restless period.

I circled you on a map

• This is the easiest line - she always plans her tour ahead and would choose the locations that she would be performing at.
• This symbolises her plan to reconnect with her fans, targeting them, in each location, specifically as her focus upon her return to touring.

I haven't come around in so long / But I'm coming back so strong

• This line once again emphasises her "hiatus" and assures her fans of her strong comeback.

So when I touch down / Call the amateurs and / Cut 'em from the team / Ditch the clowns, get the crown / Baby I'm the one to beat

• "Touch down" signifies her reentry into the music industry. "Call the amateurs and cut 'em from the team" represents reclaiming her position, emphasizing that she is the top artist and dismissing those who doubted her or tried to take her place.
• "Baby I'm the one to beat" represents her thoughts that she's the one "ahead of the curve" (this is me trying). Now, couple that with her AOTY award for her albums "folklore" and "Midnights", despite the strong competition she had (SZA, Harry Styles, Dua Lipa) - no, folks, Taylor Swift is the one to beat.

Cause the sign on your heart / Said it's still reserved for me

• Indicates the unwavering loyalty of her fans who kept a place for her in their hearts despite her absence and the controversies surrounding her (in general)
• .

Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

• "Alchemy" symbolizes the magical, transformative bond.
• Taylor thinks that the bond between her and her fans is a magical one, one that withstands challenges and changes.
• The Alchemy is what makes her bejeweled.

Hey you, what if I told you we're cool? / That child's play back in school / Is forgiven under my rule

• Now, this line is where she addresses her fans directly. In this line, she is suggesting that she forgave all that drama ("child's play") back during the snakegate. (disclaimer: we know she forgives, she forgets, but she never let's it go -- so let's move on from this one lol)
• But basically, between her and the general fans, she's saying that she's 'moved past' what she thought was her fans' reaction to the the public feuds and media drama.

Now, let's move on to the bridge!
Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads / Beer sticking to the floor / Cheers chanted, cause they said

• This is where she uses the football metaphor to describe the celebratory atmosphere of her concerts, the unity, and the joy her fans experience together.

There was no chance, trying to be / The greatest in the league / Where's the trophy? / He just comes running over to me

• This line! Basically reflects on how she defied the odds and criticism to become the "greatest" with the support of her fans, symbolizing victory and recognition.
• By all means she is currently "the greatest".
  • She is, afterall, the first person in Grammy history to win album of the year four times.
  • Her name is definitely up there as one the greatest of all time, according to Billboard.
  • There's more but I mean, it's like repeating the same points basically.

These blokes warm the benches / We been on a winning streak

• In this line, she is trying to say that everyone else are just warming the benches, while she's the one who's been out there on a winning streak with folklore, midnights, and the eras tour.
• Her usage of "we" here indicates not only "her", but everyone involved, including her fans. This reinforces the alchemy that she has with her fans, and that all of this is a mutual success, i.e. she would not be here without the support of her fans.

He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an "E" / Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me

• This line is a controversial line, because of her usage of the word "he". Now, who is "he"? Is it Travis Kelce? Or could it be Matty Healy, considering his history with the pills? In this song, this actually does not matter. Why?
  • The point of this line is to symbolise the feeling she feels when she's performing, bejeweled, in glittery skirts, and the feeling insider of her when her fans giving her a standing ovation. To her, this feeling is euphoric. It's like taking heroin.
  • Because she is a female artist, she feels like a heroine in her show. Everyone pays attention to her, and only her. As with all heroines in movies (specifically, those movies with no heroes).
  • Combining both together, "Heroin with an 'E'" signifies as a powerful, euphoric connection (her and her fans) that's not destructive (unlike Heroin), but rather, a positive, euphoric, and uplifting feeling.
• Again, the "sign on your heart" symbolizes fans' loyalty.

and finally, this line....

• Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me.
  • Before I do a deep dive on this, let's establish the definition of the "trophy". The "trophy" symbolizes ultimate success, victory, or recognition in a competitive field.
  • This line is a rhetorical question. There is no actual "trophy". Taylor Swift is the trophy.
  • Any dudes dating her should recognise that. That she's the trophy.

Addressing the (American) football references in this song:

As mentioned before, the football references in this song are simply metaphors to help illustrate the themes of competition, triumph, and teamwork.

• "So when I touch down"
  
  • While "Touchdown" is a direct reference to scoring in American football, it also, in a literal sense, means refers to when she has landed in her private jet. At this point, we all already know about her and her private jet "news" - I do not need to elaborate on this.
  • "Touching down" symbolizes a notable return after her hiatus and public controversies, Taylor Swift’s "touch down" represents her re-emergence into the public eye with a strong, confident, and elevated status.
  • In the context of the song, it symbolizes Taylor's return to the public eye and re-establishing her position in the music industry.
• "Call the amateurs and / Cut 'em from the team"
  
  • This phrase uses the concept of a sports team to signify separating the less dedicated or less talented (the "amateurs") from the main group. It implies that only the best and most loyal (fans) shall remain, akin to a team selection process in sports.
• "Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads / Beer sticking to the floor / Cheers chanted, cause they said"
  
  • This imagery is reminiscent of celebratory scenes in sports, particularly football games where fans celebrate their team's victories with loud cheers, lifting people in celebration, and the chaotic but joyful atmosphere, very much like the Eras tour.
• "There was no chance, trying to be / The greatest in the league / Where's the trophy?"
  
  • Directly references sports league competition and winning a trophy, which signifies achieving the highest honor or success. And who is she? The Billboard Woman of the Decade. The first person in history to win the AOTY 4 times. One with one of the highest grossing tour of all time. Yes by all accounts she's the music industry.

TLDR: If you switched the "you" in this song to reference "the fans", this song will make complete sense. Now, try giving this song a listen, and think of "you" as "yourself" (the fans).
Taylor Swift's song "The Alchemy," is basically a powerful ode to her fans, chronicling her journey through public scrutiny and her triumphant return to the music industry. It draws parallels to her tumultuous period following the "snake gate" incident with Kim Kardashian and her subsequent hiatus before the release of "Reputation," the lyrics reflect a narrative of resilience, redemption, and the unwavering bond between Swift and her fans.
Once you are able to interpret "you" as "the fans", you'll be able to see, without having to do too much mental gymnastics, that the song is about the transformative and enduring connection Swift shares with her loyal supporters.
If you've made it this far, thank you for reading. Sorry for any typos or grammatical errors - but I hope I helped you made sense of the song!

I had a reading once with a psychic and she told me I have a spirit guides. I kinda don't believe it because I haven't seen one nor I have a 3rd eye. Several days after that I dream about my spirit guides telling me that they're always by my side and that they love me. There were two of them 1 guy and 1 woman. They have buff bodies and the woman has long black curly hair. In that dream, it was also night and they talk to me a lot and when morning came they said they have to go since they have other works as well. I was sad and beg them to stay and even have them promise me to meet again at night, I woke up after that.
The 2nd night, I can't sleep no matter what I do, I'm also skeptical wether what I dream was real or not so yeah no meetup in dreams happen again but that night I can feel like there's a static electricity at the back of my head just below my neck I don't know if it's related to that. There's also a scene one night where I was so frustrated because I couldn't bought the thing I badly need. So even though I kinda find it ridiculous, I keep thinking "If I really have a spirit guide, please help me get it, I badly need that" when I didn't get it, I really cursed them in my head and said a lot of bad things because of so much frustration. I sleep that night and when I wake up, I feel the static electricity at the back of head again (I don't really know how to describe it but it really feels like a static electricity and is tingling) and I was like where they trying to communicate with me again? That day I receive a news that I can finally bought it, when that happened my left ear feels hot all of a sudden like someone literally lit a match to close to my left ear . It was aggressively hot (I don't have tinnitus btw, it happened that one time only) and I laugh because I remember what I did last night. I think that's their way of telling me, "You get what you want, so don't curse at me". So when I apologize, it stop.
There were also times were I feel a pressure in my forehead like some invisible hand is pressing against it and sometimes I can also smell ritual oils though we don't actually use one. I also think they're giving me signs specially when I'm about to do a bad decision like one time "I decided to skip my exam, because I'm prioritizing my other workloads, suddenly I smell ritual oils again and I feel like my forehead is getting cold. I didn't think much of it. I was on my way home, when my groupmates told me that the deadline for my workload was moved, that means I don't have to skip my exam, so yeah I went back to school again that time (that was a waste of money and time seriously). Do I really have a spirit guides or maybe it's just in my head? I don't know, If I do can you give me tips and advice on how to communicate with them?

For a long time, I thought of myself as a right-hand woman, or a manager, or admin assistant, and the list goes on. But, I recently came across this term, Multipotentialite. You can tell I've been struggling to give my career a title. As the term suggests, I don't specialize in one aspect; I like to do a little bit of everything, and I'm surprisingly good at it. Is it okay to write that on my resume? If you're a business owner or a hiring manager, would that interest you, or is it going to put you off? And how would you suggest I describe my skills in the heading?