I am the type of person who gives more. Kaya ko ibigay ano mang material things na gusto mo, basta within my budget and if gusto kita. Probably what i wanted is appreciation lang in return, that’s it.
I (30) started dating a guy (33) who is laki sa hirap. I am also laki sa hirap pero i’ve worked my way up and now earning 6 digits every month. I would say i am financially stable, while he is not. He’s working in a construction job in Japan and is only earning half of my salary, tapos pinapadala pa nya sa mother nya.
Umuwi sya dito sa Pinas last December, and medyo napansin ko na old na yung shoes and clothes nya. I offered na magshopping kami. He was really hesitant, nahihiya sya, but i insisted. So i bought him new set of pants and that limited edition LJ shoes, sabi nya it was his first time getting og shoes. He was really happy. I was happy seeing him happy.
Now he’s back in Japan, working, we’re still communicating, calling, every single day. Pag medyo napapansin ko na puro itlog nalang ulam nya, kasi nagtitipid sya, nag oorder ako ng food through uber eats to his place. Almost every week. Again, he was happy and appreciative.
His phone has not been working well, and i was thinking of buying him an iphone. And i told him na bibilhan ko sya. Pero he stopped me. He said i’m doing too much na daw for him.
I said he just needs to be thankful, and appreciative, that’s all i ever needed. But he said i have to stop. Parang di nya na masyado na appreciate ang mga things that he’s getting because it was easy for him.
And that hit me. He wanted to make an effort of his own. Get the things he wanted on his own.
Iniisip ko rin bat kaya ako ganito. Baka gusto ko lang na may mag appreciate sakin? Or baka gusto ko lang may nakakakita ng effort ko? Or am i expecting him to do something for me in return? Or i just want to give him everything because i know the feeling of “wala”
I watched psych related videos about this kind of personality and found that this is a kind of insecurity. Yung feeling na your purpose is to give even though it’s inconvenient. Because i am trying to prove my self worth to other people, whereinfact, it should not be like this :(
PS. I am a middle child.

My husband and I are in a headlock. We will both be reading the comments. My husband wrote the main bulk of this and I've read and added where I thought appropriate.
2021 I just started a new job, colleagues are great. Joined a gym to use lunch time. Getting fit, kicking goals at work. I mentioned to my new colleagues that I used to be a personal trainer and they're more than welcome to join me for a session. So one of the female colleagues took me up on the offer. She is objectively attractive (all my colleagues are objectively attractive) but I'm not attracted to them.
After work, I tell my wife about my day which included my gym session with this girl, let's call her C. (My edit: My wife was a Stay at home mum with 2 kids under 2 years old and didn't get much help from me or anyone else. She was isolated, dealing with body insecurities from the pregnancy and was at a low point mentally). After I tell my wife, she blows up and says "I don't want to hear about you going to the gym with your hot colleagues". This upset me as I was just sharing my day.
There's a bring a friend to gym day on Wednesdays so sometimes people take me up on my offer, sometimes not. Most of the time, it's just me. But eventually, H started coming with me and we would go to the gym together maybe 2-4 Wednesdays a month.
At some point I thought maybe I should mention it but I remember the blow up and C, and figured my interaction with H is purely professional, So no harm no foul. But again, objectively H is also an attractive female so I was definitely not keen to get shouted at again for telling my wife stories of going to the gym with my hot colleagues. So I actively decided to keep this a secret because I didn't want to deal with any negative reactions from her.
Anyway my wife found out after I had been gymming with H consistently for 1 year. And it became a big thing mostly because she felt I was actively hiding my relationship with H - which I was. (My edit: I've never heard the name H before, ever. I didn't even know there was a girl called H in his office).
This argument was more than 6 months ago and my wife and I eventually got over it. She has no issues with me going to the gym with girls or H as long as she feels that I will be open and honest with her and not gatekeep informatkon.
But we had an argument today because she was showing me a FB post of a husband who wrote a self-reflecting letter about his inappropriate relationship with a female co-worker. (We were laughing about it because it was so extreme) But She said jokingly "where's your letter to me about your inappropriate relationship?" I said I never had an inappropriate relationship because I never flirted or had an affair with the coworker but she said she still considers it an inappropriate relationship because I actively hid it from her.
I don't think my relationship with H was inappropriate at all.
Please chime in on this situation and help us resolve the argument.
Edit to add: my second was a newborn when the original blow up happened.

Hi guys. I am making this publication because I feel worried and I would like you to please read my case and respond to me based on your experience. I really need it... and I don't know if it's this the right forum...
I am a 25 year old man who attends parties and drinks alcohol occasionally and with self-control, my head may spin, but I am always aware and remember everything. On Saturday, May 11, I attended a party where I went alone and was drinking and socializing with different groups. I have no idea how much I drank all night, but it was several sips of a 6% vodka carbonated drink. I believe that from 11 p.m. until 4 a.m it will have been 1 liter in total, I think. I usually drink little by little, but when the party got exciting around 3:30 a.m It was when I started drinking the drink as if it were water (By then I had already joined another group). At 4:20 a.m They were already throwing us out of the place because they were already closing and I left with this group walking towards the whereabouts (which was 20 minutes from where we were). By then my condition was normal, I was not sleepy and much less drunk, I was super aware of what was happening around me. A few minutes later while I was walking... in the blink of an eye I wake up in a hospital with an serum IV, but only for a brief moment because then in another blink of an eye I remember that I am getting to my room with the help of my relatives and the first thing I do is turn on my PC, I could barely write and I tried to look for answers and what had happened, but my head hurt a lot like I had a hangover. (My jacket, my glasses, my cell phone, my card were stolen, and the password had been changed on one of my emails) After that I don't remember much, I think I went to sleep and got up the next day in the early morning more aware. That day I had not eaten anything all day.
In my emails he said he had done a transfer at 4:52 a.m. and another at 08:06 a.m. and I wonder: How? Because to enter mobile banking you need a pin number (I don't have my fingerprints registered in the app, only to unlock my cell phone) and then according to my Google route at 4:48 a.m. I was already at the whereabouts, where they found me lying on the ground 3 hours and later notified my relatives. Why can't I remember anything? Is it possible that I was drugged or did I just drink too much? This is the first time this has happened to me and I am worried about how I was able to be so accessible to give important information, because I have no signs of having been physically attacked and to this day I have a slight taste bitter in my mouth.
My mom shows me the photos of that day in the hospital where I look terrible, my eyes drooping, staring at nothing, and super serious. She said that sometimes she would shake (maybe from the cold) and she could barely get up. The only words I said to my mother were: How did you get there? How did you find me? She also says that I was the one who had given the number when the police had found me lying there. (He tells me all this days later)
It's been 1 week since then, I've cried a lot and I can't sleep because I can't understand how this happened to me, but I'm grateful to God for being alive and without any injuries.
Has something like this happened to you? Some answer? How does the body of a person with excess alcohol function? Do they really faint? In the sense that they faint fall to the ground? Or is there another type of internal fainting? I'm new to this and I would appreciate if you could answer me, please. Sorry for my English, I'm using a translator.
Thank you.

so I'm a pretty young guy and there's a lot of younger people at my workplace who are very cool people. I wouldn't say I've struggled to make friends, but a lot of bad things have happened to me and now I have a lot of internalized homophobia/act more fiscally conservative than I am because of what I went through in high school, and I have trouble talking to people. It actually really hurts when I see people so confident in themselves and I picture an older version of my younger self with them instead of that person turning into me. it feels like that person died and I lost something. But that line of thinking makes me suicidal so I try to dismiss it as my brain playing tricks on me.
Anyway, with that context out of the way, here's what this post is about. I don't hate myself. I'm solitary and anxious, but I do love myself. It's almost like I see me and myself as a team lol. so I don't truly believe that people hate me. But thinking about befriending these cool people at work, I keep telling myself they hate me. Like I picture a scenario in my head where they sneer at me and say really viscous and hurtful shit to me if I tried to talk to them. I don't believe that's what's going to happen. But it's like I'm making a conscious choice to pretend that it is. Like I'm playing a little game with myself. And it hurts a lot. it makes me want to cry.
Another example. There is a pretty cool girl at my work who I want to talk to. She has not explicitly approached me and said "I think you're cool and I want to be friends", which for me is the minimum it would take for me to even consider opening up to her. But if I put myself in her shoes, that's asking a lot. And logically, I'm pretty sure she wants to be my friend. she's started conversations with me a few times. I'm not psychic but I'm assuming. But because she hasn't given me explicit confirmation, I tell myself that she thinks I have an obsession with her and that she's extremely uncomfortable around me, so I try to avoid her. I don't even look at her. Not in a rude way or in a way that's trying to manipulate her, but just staying out of her way. Honestly maybe she does think I'm weird at this point because I've acted this way. But that doesn't make me feel embarrassed. It just makes me sad but vindicated.
So why do I do this to myself? I say it's a choice I'm making, but it's probably closer to an intrusive thought that takes over. It just feels like I choose it a little bit. Am I scared of rejection? Do I want control? Is it childhood trauma? Id even just appreciate if someone relates to this without a solution.
I can't just make the choice to stop feeling bad for myself or whatever because this always pops up when something good might happen for me, and I do believe I deserve good things. But when it's in real life, that happens and I'm really mean to myself in my head about it.

This is something I wrote never wrote a song but I just needed it to let it out, but I wish I did know because music is so liberating
How many words does one broken heart need before it heals before it's too late and it's lost forever and no longer here
We all walk past each other with a little hurt inside and we don't talk about it because we fear the depths of the hole inside our heart because that's the only thing left behind all of the pain of the memories and of the things that could of been
all of this weight comes from all this sadness i plead can someone take it all away please, how do we find our way back to the light when all you can see is darkness even when the sun smiles at us every day we live
Keep going keep going it will get better that's all you hear but how does help when you're broken when hope was taken the day you left
Can I tell you once all I could see was magic, everytime i walk outside just seeing nature filled me with so much hope and dreams but now I'm just tired of being so strong Lately I just keep losing myself I wish I could just end this here but something inside me just doesnt wanna give up please forgive me it's all I can say when the reflection hits the mirrior and this tears fall like a never ending stream
I should have loved myself more, now it's a journey to try and find myself while putting one piece after another together slowly one more time because the love that I gave you was what I always looked for even if it meant being ignored left on the side without any words all while been blamed for things that werent even my fault
I know I hope you find everything that you need is the only thing I can say Its the only thing we can both do
This pain is a memory of the beautiful things we once lived, now it's time for me to let go and find the love I gave to you and give it back to me
It might be hard today and tomorrow might be the same because learning self love is something only I can do i know There's a light at the end of tunnel and it ain't easy but I can tell you I know I'll make it through for me and the people that love that are still here.

Writing this under a throwaway account because honestly I feel disgusted, empty and embarrassed at myself and just need to rant. My boyfriend and I (both in our 30s) have been together for a while and honestly the past couple of years have died down for us sexually and emotionally starting with him one holiday being nearly black out drunk and physically assaulting me with a knife and choking me, but I was able to defend myself and calm him down. I know…major red flag. We broke up for nearly a year over this and took a while to talk things through and work it out.
But honestly, things started off rocky way earlier in our relationship when he cheated on me emotionally and physically behind my back. When we got back together, I decided to get on Prep for my own safety and I’m glad I did. I don’t know why, but my spidey senses were tingling this evening and trusted my gut reaction again (hate that I did this, but also glad?) and went through his phone just now while he’s passed out from drinking too much from partying. Found out this guy (I confronted my soon to be ex-bf about this guy a couple months ago) and my bf had gone on a couple dates behind my back and he slept with him in our bed, multiple times (the guy has no idea I exist). Shamefully, I decided to snoop even more and found out he’d been sleeping around with multiple people in our bed (coordinating with them when i need to be in the office since he works from home), slept with guys at our local gym, as well as their places for the past couple of years. All of them having no idea that I exist or that he’s in “committed” relationship.
As stupid as this sounds too, earlier in our relationship when he first cheated on me, I proposed we open our relationship but we decided against it. Personally, I couldn’t do it and am a monogamous dater. I think I was fooling myself into thinking that I was the problem and opening would solve our problems.
I’ve been going to therapy over the past year to understand myself better as a person and uncovered that quite a bit of my anxiety and lack of self esteem stems heavily from this relationship.
I know people are thinking “so many red flags why didn’t you leave” and honestly I’m embarrassed at myself for not ending things sooner. But when you’ve spent so much time together, met each others families and friends, built over a decade of your life together, shared so many milestones together (people’s weddings, traveling to multiple countries, moving in together, being there for each other during funerals) and so on, it’s not easy to say “I’m done, we’re done” and walk away without trying everything. I think I’ve spent so much of our time together telling myself things can get better, he can get better, that I’ve successfully fooled myself and glanced past these red flags over and over again.
I guess for those who are in a similar boat, don’t be hard on yourself. Sometimes you win some, sometimes you lose some. If someone hurts you and won’t change/improve and you’ve given so much time, energy, therapy sessions, tears, and money, it’s okay to walk away because I’m telling this cheating SOB once he wakes up that’s it’s officially over.

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

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

Even if Fed policy works, and prices for goods come down they are not in a vacuum. The reason people might “feel” the pressure of a looming recession despite better inflation readings may be because essential expenses remain inflated. I wonder if deflation in the current environment (things becoming wayyy cheaper) would even matter if the majority of your income is going toward regular expenses.
Today, I bought a bottle of olive oil that was 50%-300% more expensive than I have been used to in the pre pandemic era. Compound that on housing crises/bubbles, where people think they need to save every Penny to afford a home.
That feeling is enough to sway me from buying an 80” TV for $600 or even $500, and to consider such a purchase very frivolous. I find myself surfing Facebook marketplace place and thinking, man $200 for X, that’s way too much.
Can this mindset become a self-fulfilling prophecy with respect to the recession? Could this lead to some sort of deflationary spiral? Have there been examples of bolstered consumer spending without having some meaningful deflation on essential goods?

Yu told me it’d be us for eternity, For the entirety of time I knew u, U/lied/ & looked me in the eyes formally; Saying shit like “your stuck with me, until u won’t have me no more” Buh you never stopped sharing urself with the world, Said shit like “I Love you the mostest” But I saw lack of love for self, how could you love me, or /anything/ else I’d be spot on 💯 percent on target most times, you’d make an effort to make me /feel/ Crazy, insane For the insulation of your shame and your twisted little game, self-love u lack got me thru, Doubt u would have faired well, having had to deal with, the shit I was put through, But I never stopped believing In that light within, faith in myself ability to, weld the truth and war with sin in exchange for financial comfort and steady character assassination, Then strut around with me, knowing it’s all eyes on us, cos I magnetize visual admiration Just 2 Bad mouth me too your friends then show genuine happiness behind closed doors, You are the embodiment of everything Ill make sure 2 ignore. The embodiment of the last things I want near me. Our end was due, overdue times two. But why do I still / c a r e / about you? Although I’m careful with the thoughts I think regarding you, i fail to circumvent. And not, end up knotted typing out dumb shit like I miss you. Icanbe self love lackin too

 My soul bleeds for you but I never seen a person take that much pain and multiply it in two, while managing a smear campaign. What demons reside in you? 

It’ll pass, in the end to you I was just a fine piece of ass. That happened to be smart, unlike anyone you’ll ever stumble upon on your narcissistic path.
The bum(that turned ur house to home) The addict, (who didn’t take advantage) The lover that believed in you the mostest the rebel that can’t be helped The miscreant spiritual being who grew tired of the devious authentic contradictions Lined up on our stories shelf,

 Created lies, and spilled my truths. Carefully around the community in which I believed I may one day fit into. 

People would stare, inside you’ve killed me many times, come to find out the heart dun need to stop for one to die. Enjoy your new journey I figure out mine

I hope your BITSAT prep is going well... Please continue reading if you've solved cengage in our two years...
I'm talking about the adv. series of books with which, they provide theory videos on the cengage digital app for a few selected 'difficult' topics... I've watched the sample ones on their app but couldn't make out much from it...
So here's my question- if you've used those videos, how are they, compared to the standard JEE lectures available online- are they reliable, and what's your opinion?
context- I'm taking a drop year- conceptual understanding is mid but not nill- wanna follow cengage books and do self-study entirely (mainly to practice more qs). Wanted to know if those videos are enough (as a backup) if I don't understand a particular topic after reading the theory...
Also, it'd be great if you could share your experience of solving cengage and provide me with a few insights/things to know before getting started

I've been late my whole life, I know some people with adhd somehow manage to be super early, but that has never been me. I just really underestimate how much time everything takes, loose track of time and just forget about appointments even if I checked my calendar in the morning or have it right in front of me on a postit. The only possible way so far is being in a complete freeze mode the whole day before the appointment and just repeat it in my head again and again, but then Im in this horrible self-hatred state the whole day.
My husband is extremely affected by things not going to plan, and he told me again and again how much it hurts him. Not even the part of being there on time but even leaving home at a certain time really matters to him. He never asks me things and I think I never realised how much it affected him, so I really want to be better.
The other day we had a workshop planned and I really wanted to be there on time, set reminders, put it on postit notes, but again, lost track of time and was late. My husband didn't mind much this time, because he also lost track of time, but I still can't forgive myself for this. Today I saw this reel on Instagram saying "If you keep saying them to stop doing it because it's hurting you, and they keep doing it - they don't love you", which sent me down a complete self-hate spiral. Like I know this hurts my husband and I still can't be to places on time. I don't think I can love him the way he deserves to be loved. And I bloody love him so much!!
Crying while typing this, but can't talk to my husband about this because what if my extreme reaction makes him stop bringing up things that hurt him (and he does have a tendency to shut down and not share emotional side of things), and really he's the victim here and not me. It's not like he's divorcing me either, he's trying to manage it from his side by calling me and sending me reminders before an event (I love him for this, but if Im hyperfixated I won't look at my phone until it's too late). If I was him I would divorce myself because why would you be married to a person that keeps hurting you, and I really have no way of being on time to things.
Sorry for a long post, but do you have any tips for being on time to things and not have it derail your life or having to go to a self-hate spiral? Also does it trigger you immensely when people say being late is a sign of disrespect? Like if they knew what's going on in my head while I'm running late they'd realise that I really value them and their time and would be on time if I could..

Alright Apes,
I was out walking my dog, ready to get back home to go to sleep, and then it happened. I did one last check of superstonk to get my dopamine hit that is our community and well, I got more than I asked for. Now I have too much energy to sleep because I am so fucking hyped for what I found. So here I am.
This beautiful post popped up at nearly midnight my time.
When it said watch in reverse, I had mixed emotions because one of my favorite post was the one with the opening to the White Stripes glitch mob remix. Go watch the video if you haven’t already. That’s one of my favorite songs for very personal reasons and the idea that GME was about to unleash something that caused a glitch was very exciting to me. I wanted that to be the foreshadowing that RK left us with.
But I like every other GME theory I read, it consumes me. I’m obsessed. So what the heck, let’s go watch everything in reverse.
Lucky for me I realized very quickly that when you go to the X iphone app and watch the latest video in full screen, you can just swipe up to see the next video. So, the next hour of my night was planned out.
That was an hour ago. I am so hyped about what I saw that I’ve decided to sit down and write out the my whole interpretation of what I saw. I don’t have answers for every single post but there does seem to be a theme that matches the theory that these are meant to watch in reverse.
Buckle up.
One last things before I get started. I think DFV has been here all along. I think he has read all of the DD and I think he made his memes with all of that in mind. I highly doubt he knows anything for sure but is just a fan of the DD. Just like I am. And there is one DD I fell in love with from the first moment I read it. I think he did too and this is his thesis. He has read all the tea leaves and doesn't think anyone has put it together like he has so he is sharing his interoperation of the DD, the market conditions, and the news and is going to do one last DD himself.
Ok. Here we go.
Oh, and this is not financial advice.
Ok. Here we go for real.
ET: This might actually be him saying goodbye for now. Hopefully not forever (still kinda sad we never got a ET 2).
Horse Gift: Not sure how to interpret this one. Maybe foreshadowing that he found (or was gifted) the GME bull thesis and at that point, he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing for a bad things. “We’ll see”
Coldplay Backwards: GME had to pull back for him to find the right time to get in.
Forest Running: And then it started running.
Original Sheet Music: Then he started meme. The memes were “MIRACULOUS”.
My favorite post – The White Stripes Glitch Mob video intro: Seriously, if you haven’t watched the video, go now. It’s hype af. This is the video that marks the Jan 2021 glitch. The sneeze.
MIB Kitty: And then GME became RK’s galaxy.
That’s not a Knife: He was the memelord at this point but shorties wanted his gains.
Westworld’s Bernard: Then the bear thesis’ started coming out but we can’t see what we are programed not to see. We were already programed at this point thanks to the bulleproof bull thesis.
Ocean’s Gang in Prison: And then we got thrown in a prison together when so many people bought at high prices.
Beavis and Butthead: We were obsessed with Cohen at this point. We hung on to every tweet. Sex for Dummies was a very popular one. Lot’s of theories popped up with this tweet.
A Few Good Men: DFV visits Congress!
Elaine Dancing: Is this him celebrating his gains and/or not getting thrown in prison?
Aladdin: They tried to take his gains away?
Truman > Mourinho’s In Big Trouble: He was gagged.
ASIP In Therapy: RK went to therapy and found he loved making memes and GME?
Newman: Talking about his experience as his new life as the United States GameStop memer and all the requests he was getting for memes.
Eddie Murphy: Chronicling his time as a memer
SNL The Shooting AKA Dear Sister: Not sure on this one.
Steve Wilkos: RK is ours and we are going to stick beside him
Succession: RK was reading so much about how he was the villain
Borne: More struggles with his identity as the GameStop memer and deciding what to do next.
CNBC > .50: Why does everyone hate RK?
The Dude: Not sure on this one.
Garden State: foreshadowing the jam that he’s about to get into this his next (older) posts
Every Everywhere All at Once: more foreshadowing.
Stand by Me: There’s a game of chicken going on. Shorts vs HODLers?
School of Rock: Reminding us what where here for. This journey isn’t going to be perfect but it’s Rock and Roll.
TeddyBears – Punk Rocker: He has both hands off the wheel now but he’s still along for the ride.
You Can’t Stop What’s Coming: Self-explanatory with likely last-minute cameo of the Chicago (where was Citadel founded?) BEARS thanks to the world’s most famous coke rat market manipulator.
Sicario 2: He’s asking us if we are ready to be the “villain” with him.
Flip Mode: If you really want to party with the Kitty, show him what you got (make some more memes people!!!)
The Shining: Our view of RK at work making his memes for the past 3 years.
500 days of Summer: Talking about why he does what he does. Because it’s going to last forever (more foreshadowing).
Luca: Him laughing at us not knowing everything. Just forget about it if you don’t understand, he has more for you.
Signs 1: This is where things get interesting. This is where we start seeing the signs. Connecting dots. We found something legit in all the DD.
Signs 2: The signs all pointed to GameStop. It’s all about GameStop and what they are going. Nothing else matters.
Signs 3: Are we the aliens? All of our best DD writers talking to each other were some of my favorite moments over the past 3 years. [There are theories about what these signs said and I will go back and fill that in later, I’m getting sleepy]
Signs 4: He is asking us if we believe the DD.
Signs 5: RK is one of us. Assuming we are the Aliens in these signs videos, he is telling us he is one of us.
The Modern Animal: We need to get a little crazy if we are going to take on the big city (NYC? Wall Street?)
Broad City: We made our own language. Memes. SuperStonk is a place for best friend with time to shoot.
GooseBumps: I THINK THIS IS WHERE WE ARE TODAY. RK is letting his briefcase of memes open and warning bears.
Everyone’s favorite Boss: Here some the SIGNS (memes for those who are not keeping up). He is going to his us ONE MORE TIME.
Pay Attention: NOW FUCKING PAY ATTENTION because he isn’t going to do this again.
Kill Bill: It’s time to fight and we are bad asses.
JigSaw + Kansas City Shuffle: Are you ready for the game? Because GameStop has you covered. Everything up to this point has been the inciting incident and catalyst of the Kansas City Shuffle. There is a very short scene where he says, “are you watching closely”? I saw a comments days ago that I can’t find and the very high level paraphrased version is that scene is from the Prestige and all of those hats were a result of him cloning himself. I think that represents the synthetics that plague our market. (I will find that comment that explains it better and go back to watch the movie myself and update this).
Shawshank: RK is telling us all it really takes is pressure and time to break out of their prison. While he was in prison, he went back to get his financial education. We also need an activist (investor, RC). There is a lot more nuance we can try to extrapolate form this one. I’ll save that for later.
Radiohead Karma Police: They have run the price down far enough. They have been leaking gas this whole time. It’s time for the match to be lit.
Neo: This is where Neo figures out how to work the matrix. The market is fake and everyone is mad. We all know it. When it comes to the market, we all took the red pill, and we see it for what it is.
Bullet Scene: Might need some help deciphering this one. I think it’s about how we (maybe not us but the general public) perceive the market. We see cause and effect but that’s now how it works. I think he is telling us that we don’t fully understand the market but our instincts are right and we just feel it. I think we as a community have that instinct.
Fury: Every boss is going to feel like the last one. They are going to pound us with misinformation, price manipulation, and anything else they can come up. But they are just taunting us to whoop some ass.
Trueman Show: They are going to hit us with everything they have but HOLD ON!
Me, Myself, & Irene: Them tanking the price is going to change how we feel and who we are.
Red Right Hand: Might need some help with this one too. The red hand man is stalking someone and the other person can’t do anything about it? Not sure who is who here.
Beat Saber: Might need some help with this too. Is he calling all freaks to show up because we are about to go to war?
Keith and Jake SNL: Everyone thinks Keith is crazy lol
Seinfeld: Calling out the memestock docs for being stupid. He had to some back and tell everyone to “Shut Up Bitch”
Shut Up Bitch: He delivers his best line to the people making him out to be a Vilian.
Coffee Mug Breaks: He is asking us to convince him to do it again.
Bane: RK is saying everything is going as planned.
Oceans (again): RK has been waiting for this time and it was all part of the plan.
Snoop: There was so much drama at GME. People had to be fired because they were someone dressed up as something else. Moles?
Spiderman: It’s time for Keith Gill to become Roaring Kitty again.
Pizza Slices: Guy on the left is a shorty. He is getting mad with how popular things got with the thesis and how many people bought.
Missy Elliot ft Luda: Giving us confidence that he has a worldwide audience and he is about to kill all the rumors.
In Love with RC: He is telling us that RC is the right guy. Don’t doubt him.
Guardians: Everyone already knows who is in charge. Stop fighting to be in charge.
CNBC again: Some of the misinformation actually said RK is in charge. He is not. He is busy drawing dicks (memes).
Oceans (again): I think he is saying that no one person is in charge. It took everyone to give GME all that money. Or maybe it AVOCADO-IN-MY-ANUS all along?
Breaking Bad: His side still hasn’t been told?
Fight Club: RK finally accepting he is DFV
Nice Guy: He is still a nice guy despite what people are saying.
Day and Night: I think he is talking about his struggles day and night over the last 3 years.
Dave: He could’ve ignored it all but he couldn’t stand it. He’s about to keep it real with us.
Star Wars: help me fill in the blank on this one.
Ozarks: help me fill in the blank on this one.
Grim Reaper: The hedgies are trying to figure out what is going on with GameStop. They are I a holding pattern and will be coming with more hitman when what happens in the rest of the tweets goes down.
*******This is where shit gets real********
The Prestige: Alright. Put your tinfoil hat on tight. Here is my interpretation of this one. The magician makes something disappear, but the audience wants to be fooled so we are not actually looking for the secret. So, when something disappears we don’t clap because it’s not as impressive. But as soon as it comes back, the fights is on**~. I think the NFT marketplace is going to come back~**. But I think it’s going to come back as something else. I think they built the blockchain infrastructure for something other than the NFT marketplace. That is when shit is going to go crazy. Don’t believe me, keep reading.
Brand New GME: They finally embrace what everyone has been calling them. They show up one day looking sexy as fuck and blow everyone’s minds.
Prisoner: And now the prisoner (GME’s true price) has true FFFRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM.
The fallout: The hedgies are going to beg us to sell our shares at 14 grand but the nature of us is pure CRAZY. We all knew who was calling on the phone.
Parking Lot Killer: That is who was calling. They are coming for the bears.
Requel: And just like that the requel begins production.
Old Computer Game: Now the question is, with this brand new, sexy af version of GME are we selling or are we staying? I think it’s going to be so fucking amazing we “>Stay”
Kittyman: When this all goes down, RK will return again.
How did they do it?: GME (or we?) seems stupid but apparently whoever it is really good at paperwork and the RK is so happy he’s doing backflips.
What do they need to do it?: They are going to need all of us and the target is up. HODL.
Kingsman: Shorties will then be locked in the room with us and they are going to come in fierce numbers.
The Town: They need our help we can’t ask questions but we have some sick ass rides to get there with.
Morning Affirmation Cat: Help me with this one. I’m tired.
Troy: Sick ass scene. GME just needs to land the killshot.
Pikey Reaction: They pulled the price back so far that it’s a loaded spring and when the shots are fired, it’s going to be raining money. Now “come hang so we go out with a bang”. Does he have your attention now?
Stop Fighting: NOW we can stop fighting.
Pirates of the Carrabin: The Pirate comes back from the dead (NFT Market Place?) and GME presses the red button to go into hyperdrive. This solidified my theory.
Tombstone: It’s not for revenge. It’s for something bigger. It’s a reckoning. Maybe a Glass Castle?
Standoff: Now that the red button was pressed, we have all the shorties in a stand off. But it doesn’t matter because the result of the red button is going to destroy it all? DO I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION NOW?
Avenger Initiative: We have to do it together. It’s not just one person.
Sherlok Holmes: When GME says run, RUN! And remember what it’s running for. You monther, father, children, sisters, and brothers. The DOG DAYS are over.
Drive: We think were all good here right? It’s all over. Guess again. We are going to have every governmental agency coming after us and our gains. We are going to be on the run.
Bloody Blade: Help me with this one.
But First: The overture. This will be how it starts. We must go backward to unlock the secret. Once we do, the dragon wakes up and it’s game on for the game of thrones. We are going to break the wheel.
Still Here: It’s done when we say it’s done. This tweet closes with the song from the whole days evil cept being blown up with green fire. Sick.
Thanos: This was the actual first tweet just like the ET was the actual last tweet. He has read all the tea leaves and doesn't think anyone has put it together like he has so he is sharing his interoperation of the DD, the market conditions, and the news and is going to do one last DD himself.
Hope you were sitting up in your red chair and paying attention.
Apologies for any typos and poor formatting. I've never made a post like this and I'm too tired to figure all of that out. I'll come back tomorrow and clean it all up with that and fill any gaps you guys help me out with.

I hesitate to post this because I've been on reddit for years and know ya'll can be vultures but here it goes:
TL;DR - Fiancé and I are confused and exhausted. We're currently a dead bedroom, it's my doing. He needs more physical intimacy and for some reason I can't provide it. He has cheated, only since physical intimacy stopped, although he does not agree it is cheating. He knows he has hurt me. Blah blah blah, wedding is postponed, we've discussed an open relationship and/or taking a break.
Background:
We have been together for 10 years, engaged 2. We're in our early 30s. Wedding is planned for next year. No kids, but 3 dogs together.
The beginning of our relationship was like any new relationship. We were young, the honeymoon phase seemed never-ending as we didn't see each other often, and sex was new and exciting.
2 years into dating, I started birth control. Immediately, we didn't notice many sexual side effects, but looking back, there probably were. We had both been taking antidepressants/ anti-anxiety medication before we met, and we both currently still take those medications. We know these have sexual side effects, for both of us.
After dating a few years we moved in together and shortly after, sex became infrequent. About 3 years into living together he brought up concerns about lack of sex and physical intimacy. I eventually realized I got comfortable and content, and didn't prioritize sex and physical intimacy as I should have been. I promised I would change, but I unfortunately didn't. Around this time, he sent a nude photo of himself to a friend of mine. I couldn't believe it, he told me a few days later, and promised to never do anything like that or to hurt me like that again.
Fast forward to now, we own a house together, and still unfortunately, I have done little to nothing to increase my sex drive and physical intimacy. I start little things but no progress is made. For example I say I'm going to plan a "sexy time" but it just doesn't happen. I did surprise him with a photo album of sexy polaroids of myself, which he enjoyed. But maybe a year later he asked a different friend of mine for sexy photos. I think he's just missing that attention that I should be giving him. His love language is physical touch, mine is acts of service and gift giving, and I struggle to show him love in the way he wants to be shown (physically.)
Since our engagement, the past year has been filled with discussions about our dead bedroom: why it happened, can we fix it, etc. For both of us, it's been almost impossible to be excited about being engaged or planning a wedding or getting married because of this issue. We've agreed that we don't want to get married if we're not excited, so we're postponing the wedding. Also, we both see a therapist and have started couples therapy.
Where it gets complicated:
He recently told me that last year, he visited a club a few times. Only on one occasion it got physical: he received a handjob, (I do believe him because at this point there's nothing to hide.) This handjob visit occurred 6 months after he proposed. Leading up to these club visits (which remember, I didn't know about until recently) he would urge me in a healthy way to be intimate, communicate his needs, and so on. But for whatever my multitude of reasons are that I'm working out in therapy (vaginismus, piled on stress, self-esteem issues, maybe not being attracted or turned on by my partner, low libido, possible imbalanced hormones, health scares that may have caused trauma) I just couldn't do it. Of course I regret it, I don't know what's wrong with me and I wish I could snap my fingers and fix it. So I do understand why he went to that club.
We truly do not know what to do. We love each other. We've been through so much, helped each other through a lifetime of stressful events, and experienced such great things together. We've talked about our future together for the past decade. But we also recognize that time spent together does not mean you should or are obligated to stay together. We recognize that right now, neither of us are happy and something needs to change.
We've briefly mentioned opening our relationship, taking a break, or both. But we don't know what that entails. Since we live together and the dogs are like our children, we don't know how a break would logistically work. As for opening our relationship, considering the infidelity, I just don't know. But at the same time, there is no sex or intimacy happening and I want to see him happy in that way. I feel like it would improve his mental health. Our therapist has been focusing more on us rather than discussing those options at the moment.
Of course there is so much more to a decade-long relationship, and I'm trying to be as neutral as possible when writing this. But we just feel like we're in this best friend, roommate, sometimes cuddle limbo and are avoiding truly discussing it because we know the options...we just don't. know. what. to. do. So if anyone has any actual advice, similar stories, or experiences with an open relationship or taking a break (while engaged) please share.
Also if you're going to respond with something unnecessary or unhelpful like "just break up" we'll save you the time and say thank you, we've discussed that option as well.

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

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

Last night I betrayed someone I cared about. Words cannot describe the bitterness and disgust I feel.
I am back home in Sydney, and I am safe. For those of you who have been following along, I found a way to resolve my situation with the Tremere Primogen. But I don’t think I was prepared for what it would cost me.
I had fled Australia a month ago for the safety of my sire’s haven in Valencia, Spain, travelling in secrecy in the squalor of unattended ship compartments. My return was a stark contrast, aboard the private jet I had chartered. No need for subtlety when you’ve already told the guy who wants you dead that you’re coming to see him. Would that the jet was the highest cost I paid…
When I arrived I was greeted by Thomasina, my Toreador Primogen, with whom I had arranged to set up a peaceful meeting with the Tremere Primogen so that I could negotiate an end to hostilities. Though, I was warned that if things went south my clan would not risk going to war with the Tremere just to protect me. No pressure. Also there to greet me was… my faithful assistant, Sophie…
We met the Tremere Primogen on neutral ground, at the Royal Botanical Gardens. The serene environment of the Formal Garden, where grand ceremonies are often held, bizarrely juxtaposed the tension in the air. The plan was simple; I had never practiced blood magic myself, only sold the services of Gregory, a former Tremere contact of mine, through BLVSH to other kindred. So, really, it was my contact who was disobeying the chantry and dealing behind its back. A contract who had betrayed me too, tried to kill me. For all anyone knew, I had no idea he was betraying the chantry and acted in good faith. Certainly, no one had proof I knew otherwise. And I happened to have that traitor staked and gift-wrapped, courtesy of Sandu. Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone involved if I just handed over Gregory to be executed for his crime?
The Tremere Primogen was as cold and severe as I remembered but, though he was initially skeptical, seemed to be in agreement. Upon handing over Gregory, he decided I was innocent of practicing blood sorcery outside of chantry control. But he was not yet satisfied. He said that selling the services of blood sorcery behind his back was still an injustice that needed to be righted. “I want to believe you,” he said. “I want to believe you’re an upstanding member of the court of Sydney. But I have records that BLVSH knowingly acted in defiance of the chantry. Only two people were involved in that side of the business. If it wasn’t you, clearly it was your ghoul.” Sophie… my dear Sophie…
I’m sure the Tremere Primogen knew it was me. He just couldn’t prove it. But he wanted to twist the knife, just to show who was in charge. My ghoul, he said, had endangered both our lives by putting us at odds with each other through her reckless actions. Justice demanded she be punished for it. And I… what else could I do but agree?
I saw the terror in Sophie’s eyes as they dragged her away from me. Sophie had been nothing but loyal, and yet here she was, being offered up as a scapegoat for my sins. My beautiful Sophie, she refused to turn on me, even as I turned on her. I stood there, powerless, as the Tremere Primogen reached his hand out to Sophie. Time seemed to slow as I looked on. And… all he did was touch her, and, jesus the horror of it. She practically melted before my eyes. Her skin began to drip from her body as her blood boiled. She clawed at her head as her hair came away in clumps and her eyes poured out of their sockets. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. I needed to see the full extent of my betrayal. And the screams. God, the screams. I can still hear them in my head. If there is any justice, I always will hear them.
And… and I am free. All is forgiven. Business as usual in the uncaring nights I reside in. And all it cost me was my closest, most trusted friend. What a bargain. I’m a fucking monster, and a coward, and a failure, and a terrible friend. I was too weak to accept the consequences of my actions. I’m no better than Gregory. Here in my empty haven, with only my guilt and shame for company, I still see the hollow sockets where Sophie’s eyes were when my eyes close. I’m sorry, I failed you.
Oh, and when I got home I destroyed my garden in a frenzy of rage and self-loathing. It’s okay, I don’t deserve beautiful things. I can’t take care of them.

• Alyx.

Hi, I have been reading through my notes, correspondence with my psych and reacquainted myself with this subreddit having made a little bit of progress. I realise how deeply personal and different our work with schema therapy can be. It is a fraught process that is really hard work at times. Having made unexpected progress though, I thought maybe it would be helpful to describe parts of my context, not so much that people find it familiar or relatable, but moreso that people grab the toolset that schema therapy gives you and run with it in your own way.
Background: It's probably been just over fourth months of fairly intensive schema therapy. I am in the fortunate situation of having regular appointments with a clinical psychologist. I would say I had two points where I generated schemas. First one was the same as everyone else: Early childhood. Second one was 17-21 when I became effectively bedridden due to chronic illness.
When I have talked about this second period, I describe it as "Having to rebuild who I was from scratch, entirely based around energy efficiency". I remember staring into the pitch blackness of my bedroom during this time, absolutely flawed that the one part of me that seemed to function right was what Schema Therapy might describe as "Demanding Critic". This would have been 18-19 years ago so I had no idea about schema therapy at all, I just had this constant internal dialogue tearing strips off me for not trying harder, not getting up, not fixing myself. I was completely exhausted otherwise, but this damn thing was as active as ever? What the hell, why was it the last thing standing? It was so different from the rest of me. "If you know how to fix everything, be my guest, I'm in your hands, here's the keys!" I remember thinking. Alarmingly, the internal dialog responded: "Fine, I will". "Good fucking luck" I thought, and passed out for several hours. I didn't realise it, but I had just given Demanding Critic a parental role.
Demanding Critic used a process of elimination to tear apart, kludge, re-engineer and jerry-rig me from someone who slept for 16-18 hours a day out of necessity into someone with a degree, a house, a family, a part-time job. It took a while. It wasn't easy. It's amazing what can happen when you give seething self-hatred the keys to your entire self. Punitive critic used to be a thing, but had it's parts ripped out and reconfigured for completely different purposes. Entire ways to simulate being a conscious, involved person in social situations were constructed. I trained myself to do very complex tasks by muscle memory so I could do them while completely exhausted. The complex effects of depressive episodes could be filtered and rewired to emulate happiness. Fatalistic pessimism was employed towards emulating initiative and drive. Their logics and mechanisms were set to fire off automatically according to the myriad of different contexts I found myself in, so I didn't have to consciously engage in the moment, I could just react according to programming. The "machines" as I called them were fine tuned over years. But it seems that entire parts of myself were deactivated having been deemed too difficult to regulate, or too energy intensive. Demanding Critic was as brutal at he was creative. Entire emotional spectrums were pulverised, or at best used as catalysts for the activation of certain mechanics. They weren't properly experienced, because that used up too much energy, and I couldn't trust myself to make it through the day. Same with speculative, ill-defined senses like 'Hope'. It wasn't worth the effects of disappointment. No one could know how much pain I was in, or how much I was really suffering, or how exhausted I really was. Press on you stupid meat-bag. In your state what good is hope or despair? You'd be a poor judge of either. Press on! Hurry up and succeed. It doesn't matter what has happened to you, what people say or do to you, you can barely feel it above the pain anyway. MOVE. MOVE. MOVE.
This process was refined until a semblance of normativity took place externally, and internally I had acclimated to the new approaches that were by now a pretty seamless, responsive system. Something still wasn't right though, and with investigation came the ASD/ADHD diagnosis, then the CPTSD diagnosis. Once again unto the breech, I pushed myself to understand and recover as best I could. Except doing so meant realising what was happening around me, what interpersonal boundaries were, how I was being treated by my loved ones, everything that had really happened to me for thirty-odd years.
Kaboom.
In the aftermath I'm in a difficult, but stable situation, and undergoing schema therapy. Learning about the modes my therapist asked me to talk about the ones I identified. Demanding Critic spoke directly through the keyboard as an intense character: The Machinist. It became obvious that the system of schema therapy lent itself to treating modes as characters within a narrative, and I have just ran with it. The Machinist, interestingly enough, set down his tools and deactivated many of his machines, because if my Therapist and I found a "Better Solution", he wanted in on it, being fundamentally benevolent, and concerned with a Successful Result. Without Schema Therapy lending itself to narrative and mythos, I doubt I could have so easily deactivated the system of "machinery" required to prop me up. It's led to all kinds of shocking discoveries: The missing (No longer presumed dead) Happy Child that has been carefully hidden away amongst the deactivated components of myself. The fact that I lived entirely in the Past or the Future. The present was deemed "Too energy consumptive". I didn't know whether I had a "Healthy Adult Mode", but weirdly The Machinist could fill that roll sometimes but obviously had his limitations. Then out of the void, deactivated parts of me started to come back online. Something started to assert itself in the Present. It was very interested in emotions. Instead of casting them aside and pushing past them to get on with what i was supposed to be doing, it insisted I experience them, decode them and experiment with them. New experiments in the real-time interaction with people were enacted, with the emotional fallout, good and bad, further experimented with. This present-based-thing has been curiously self-compassionate, and has guided me through the difficulties and risks of fully engaging in real time with my emotional spectrum when relating with others, my work, and my life. All for the sake of her experiments. She is The Scientist. She is getting all kinds of results and recording all kinds of functions I had no idea I was capable of. The Machinist is head over heels in love with her, having watched her working over the least two weeks. She's kinda started flirting with him, allowing a desire for perfection to be felt over some work I was doing. "Show me what you can do". I consciously disparaged the desire for perfection, looked down and my consciousness was shocked to discover The Machinist had taken over my motor skills and indeed had made something perfectly, and was having fun. It seems I have two self re-parents.
Now, it's bonkers to read, I'm sure. I apologise. But it's working. It really is fucking working. Take what you can from schema therapy and run with it. Make it yours, whatever that means for you. It's gonna be weird. It's gonna be wild. I reckon the easiest way to engage with it has to be it's propensity for character and narrative, but maybe the path of least resistance for you is some other aspect of it I can't detect.

I want to be hopeful and optimistic but the vast number of online disappointments make it difficult. Here are some things I don't want. Please don't contact me if you are not interested in reading the post. or do not want to talk long term and would be planning on ghosting me or disappearing within 1-2 days.
I am someone who is quite a sweet and effortful person. I would love an online connection with someone similar to me and have good, intellectual conversations and also share some laughter and affection. Affection can light us up and make us happy. (Even platonic connection is fine.) I like giving and receiving affection in the form of cute, little nicknames for each other, checking up on each other, asking about each other.
Of late, I have been watching a lot of couple pranks on YouTube. They teach me a lot about couple dynamics (what kind of dynamics are healthy and what are toxic). It would be nice to have someone to discuss these kinds of dynamics with. Sometimes I like those pranks where one pretends to be angry and the other kind of comforts them. It would be nice if we could enact that sometime.
I hope my words sail to some worthwhile eyes on the winds of destiny.
I have grown wary of superficial connections, no effort replies and even abrupt ghosts.
I would like someone with whom I can exchange sweet words with. I am quite a romantic person and I was more so as earlier. A lot of responsibilities were thrust upon me with time, but I have rediscovered that side of myself. I would love to have a pretend romance with an online companion - where we pretend like we are long lost soul mates and trade fiery words of sweet passion for each other.
But, that is completely optional. I am fine with a wholesome, platonic connection as well.
If you've reached this far, it's because of some happy confluence of my words, the Reddit algorithm and fickle fortune.
Our meeting seemed to dangle so much on fate, it's only fair we pay our dues. Give it our best shot. Do justice to the matchmakers of heaven - The directors of this romance.
I'm on the quest for a sweet companion. Someone with a good heart. Kind and empathetic - Like my own. The good person at the end of the romcom when the attractive antagonists lose their allure.
I love bonding with someone through heart to heart conversation. Through exchanging genuine care and concern. Through passionate exchange of our interests and hobbies. Through clockwork logging of our daily lives. Through mindful curiosity in each other's interests. Through mutual preference for glitter over gold, depth over deception, charm over carelessness and symphonies over superficiality.
The conversation starts out with pleasantaries and outward introduction of our demographic information - the most rudimentary. The most formal. Gradually, the outer layers crack and a mild joke cuts across the mask and we're another layer deep. Common or different tastes in art are the usual social custom for making new acquaintances.
Soon, our conversation flows like a roaring river eliciting deep intellectual and emotional responses from both of us.
We're discussing prized memories and cherished fantasies of the future. Chalking out hypotheticals and admiring the other's world views. Pretty soon, we're suddenly bare and feeling a strong bond by virtue of what we've shared.
Small silences punctuated the conversation. These silences were not awkward. It was a comforting waterfall of connection. It was the silence that followed from both of us knowing and enjoying the bond created by our hearts.
I loved the feeling of ending a conversation with a stranger on the first day with the feeling you've known them for years. I harboured romantic beliefs that such a connection must be the byproduct of a relationship in a previous life !
Here are a few things about me -

• I love staying at home.
• I do not drink or smoke and don't like going to noisy pubs. Although there are times when friends or office parties are conducted there, it's something I just tolerate.
• I love reading. I am interested in programming, Mathematics, Chess, Science, Psychology, Geopolitics, Space, Literature (fantasy particularly or late but I like all kinds) and Self Help (Productivity and Positive Psychology) - and a lot more ! I'm generally intellectually curious and a lifelong learner.
• I love following updates on things I'm passionate about and sharing them regularly. I love following podcasts and blogs and videos on them and sharing and discussing them. I also love explaining a new thing I have learnt as it helps me understand it better.
• I tend to be positive and look at the brighter side of life usually. But I also like sharing the problems I am going through and like listening to your's.
• I love animals. I have a lot of pets. I am also quite close to my family and am surrounded by my loving pets (5 dogs and 4 cats). I recovered from dengue last month and they were always around me all the time. It felt very good.
• I love putting in effort into messages and writing effortful messages and generally use complete words and not much abbreviations. I love crafting a symphony of text.
• I am usually quite calm and supportive and remember things that are told to me in conversation. I like getting emotional and expressive and am soft hearted and sensitive. I am also quite mature and enjoy talking to similarly mature people.

Do not reach out to me if you're just bored, did not read the post, don't like anything about me or my profile or don't know what you want or don't want to invest in having a good connection or don't even have the intention for talking for a few weeks. I am already quite hurt at repeated ghosting so please do not even reach out to me if you intend to ghost by tomorrow or next week.
Here's what I would like from us

• Genuine interest, care and empathy for each other - Making each other a priority though we are strangers at first. That's part of the excitement in jumping head first into this ! That does not mean we do not respect each other's busy schedules or commitments. I'm looking for something really genuine.
• Regular effortful messages, and remembering things the other says
• I love sharing or explaining anything new I learn, whether it is a blog post, podcast, video, book or a general thought that came through my mind. It would be great if you love listening to good explanations and are interested in such things. I'd also love it if you too like sharing blogs or podcasts on topics that you are interested in but it's not necessary.
• I also love self improvement and sharing progress or motivation as we are doing things towards our goals and dreams.
• I love voice calls as I love the sound of voice. I would love it if you are someone who is excited at having regular voice calls (2-3 times a week) or at least exchanging voice messages at times !
• We don't need to have similar taste in art (music, TV shows, movies). I am open to learning about new kinds of interests and new subcultures !
• Openly sharing our thoughts on the bigger ideas and arcs of life and also venting about the smaller frustrations
• Being excited at receiving messages from the other person every time we light each other's phones up.
• [Optional] Some online romance where we sometimes say things to each other that make us blush like our first crush. A little romance to brighten each other up. Though this is completely optional. Sometimes sharing sweet, romantic messages with each other and maybe even doing this on voice calls too.

Also would be nice if we can just share photos so we can visualise what we look like as I like sharing photos when I go somewhere. I just like getting this out of the way. It doesn't matter to me what you look like, but I do like to know whom I'm talking to make us blush like our first crush. A little romance to brighten each other up. Though this is completely optional. Sometimes sharing sweet, romantic messages with each other and maybe even doing this on voice calls too.
Also would be nice if we can just share photos so we can visualise what we look like as I like sharing photos when I go somewhere. I just like getting this out of the way. It doesn't matter to me what you look like, but I do like to know whom I'm talking to.