Birthday cake text emoticon

I am fixing to turn 31 and for the first 29 years of my life I got a Publix cookie cake on my birthday. The one I got for year 28 was different. The one for year 29 was downright bad. I got a Great American Cookie Cake for my 30th birthday.
What in the world happened to Publix’s cookie cakes? Hoping someone from the bakery can tell me what changed.

Excuse my bad english, i used AI to translate some parts, im not a native speaker. So, here goes the story of how Jehovah's Witnesses almost drove me to suicide, how my grandmother disowned me, and why I am now 1,327 kilometers away from my family, haha.
I was born into a three-generation JW family in Cancún, Mexico. I never had birthdays, Halloween, or any of the world's holidays. From ages 0 to 3, my nuclear family was distant from the JWs. I learned to read and began reading Watchtower literature. I never liked the idea that Jehovah was going to commit genocide on 99% of the world's population and that we would be happy in paradise with exile, resurrection, and more. At age 4, they resumed their service to the organization and tried to raise me solely with Watchtower literature. Everything else was practically forbidden, although I loved watching documentaries and reading about nature. I became a fan of some school books. I was never allowed to have a single friend, and at school, I was forced to have perfect grades, or else my parents would beat me, and this continued until I was 8 years old.
When I was 8, my father quit his job because a coworker started sexually harassing him. From that moment on, life in my family went downhill. I discovered I was gay, and every "teaching" started to irritate me more and more. My father tried to dedicate himself more to the organization's service, so it took him almost a year to find a job that allowed him to do so. At the beginning of this period, I was sent to my grandmother's house for her to take care of me for 3 months. The hell of the Catholics sounded more appealing than being there. I stopped going to school, and every day began with waking up at 5:45 am, considering the day's text for an hour, then breakfast, preaching from 7:30 am to 3:00 pm under 30-degree heat, a break for a meager meal, and then continuing with studies from 4:00 pm to 8:00 pm. Upon returning home, we would study the ministry school or the Watchtower until 10:00 pm, every day. Sundays, we had our meeting at 9:00 am, and we still went out to preach in the morning from 6:30 to 8:30.
I remember during that time I lost weight, going from being overweight to the lower limit of a healthy weight, even developing anemia. I suffered from heat strokes, dehydration, and other issues. The worst part was the Saturday Watchtower study. My grandmother wouldn't schedule studies that day so we could study the Watchtower. We started at 3 in the afternoon and continued until nearly 10 at night or even later, reading every biblical passage, every reference in the central column. We didn't have dinner until we finished studying. If I yawned, she would pinch me, and one day she tried to slap me. Adding to this was her favoritism towards other more "spiritual" cousins and her constant reminders that I would die for not having blind faith in God. Those were 3 months of my life. After that, I returned home and resumed my studies.
That year, we ended up living off poor government aid, and I made my first friend in primary school. Her mother was the sweetest woman I had ever known. She gave me desserts, fed me when we had no money, something the brothers NEVER did for my family. Here begins the next chapter of my family.
My father got a job in Cancun's public transportation but quit because he had to break many laws in a highly competitive and illegal environment. Desperate, my father accepted the lowest job offer from one of his JW brothers, working from 8 am to 6:30 pm, with no overtime pay, for $25 a week to support a family of five. Meanwhile, the indoctrination continued, torturing me with the idea that I would be destroyed at Armageddon for being secretly homosexual and completely isolated from my schoolmates due to my beliefs and poverty, thanks to this religion and abusive brothers.
My father started taking me to work on weekends, some weekdays, and holidays. They didn't pay anything extra for me; I worked entirely for free. At school, I resented the lack of money. Sometimes I would pick up government notebooks that kids threw away. My uniform was falling apart.
I started secondary school, and this situation continued. I was switched from the afternoon shift to the morning shift because of bullying at school. During that time, I met my first real friend, a guy who always supported me. He was a fan of creepy pastas and the paranormal, someone who was absent once or twice a week but with whom I enjoyed spending time. We would lie on the classroom floor listening to scary stories. I developed romantic feelings for him but never had the chance to confess. One day, after school, he walked me to a street before my house, where my father was waiting for me. A brother had leaked what was happening. I had managed to get a cell phone, which my parents checked daily to see what I was doing. At 15, they forbade me from having any contact with him, so I ended the friendship and suppressed my feelings until we finished the last year of secondary school. He didn't attend the graduation day. That day, I was completely alone. My parents went with me, but no one approached me. In Mexico, there's a tradition of signing your friends' shirts. Mine had the signature of one teacher, and nothing more. None of my classmates recognized me as a friend that day.
Two months passed. I entered high school, and one day, while walking back from preaching with my mother, I met one of my former schoolmates. We had ended up fighting, but we respected each other. When he saw me, tears welled up in his eyes. I had never seen him like that. He approached me and told me that my first friend had died of cancer. I was in shock. I told him not to joke, and he asked if I ever wondered why he was absent so often and the school never said anything, why he grew his hair long until he started missing more and more. I remember that day I felt pain like never before. I felt like I was collapsing inside. I wanted to vomit and cry. I regretted for years having left him to die alone. I felt like a traitor. My parents didn't care, but I fell into a depression that took years to overcome. To distract my mind, I started preaching more and filling my mind with dogmas. But I knew, I knew I could never achieve eternal life as a homosexual, I knew I could never make my parents happy, I knew I shouldn't get baptized, or when I got disfellowshipped, my family would consider me dead.
I started a spiral of self-hatred that one day led to harmful thoughts. I began to think about using chemical castration to eliminate my impulses, about amputating my genitals to avoid sinning. I started to think that if I died, I would be resurrected.
During high school, everyone in the congregation who talked to me only pressured me to get baptized. But I knew that if I did, it would lead to an even worse situation. And the spiral began. With each assembly, these feelings grew stronger. They kept reminding me that I had to do it, that I had to go out into the world as a JW. And everyday, some homophobic things that make me more and more fragile.
At 18, my both parents ended up working to pay off debts. I started staying home, waking up at 2 pm, and sleeping up to 20 hours a day. They labeled me spiritually lazy. I was dying more each day, and no one cared. No one in the congregation was truly my friend.
Then one day, my sister sent me to a government program to get a job. A psychologist noticed my problems and interviewed me. I started a small treatment, where I slowly made friends and became more expressive. I didn't know how to speak properly with others even though I could give talks and preach. I was socially stagnant. All the young people in the congregation ostracized me for not being a blind believer, and on top of that, I was sarcastic, so I was the one left out. I was invited to a gathering only once, with the condition that I couldn't talk to anyone about anything. Time passed, and from that government program, I started working at an institution. I met my first angels, my female coworkers, five wonderful women who practically taught me how to speak again, who explained how to celebrate a birthday, how to socialize, how to talk properly with others.
During this time, with some expertise in hiding information from my family, I bought a phone I only used at work. Curiosity got the better of me, and I started visiting Telegram groups, where I met my former partner, someone who helped me finally leave the Jehovah's Witnesses. When the pandemic started, I was sent home. My family tried to use that phone, but it had a password. When they asked for it, I refused. For the first time in my life, I refused such an order. I started to distance myself little by little. I grew my hair long, started going out more, talking more with my ex, and so on. Gradually, I distanced myself. I didn't attend Zoom meetings, and I stopped preaching by letter. Then the presidential elections came, and I was forced to vote to keep my job, which was the only source of income for my family during the pandemic. I did it, went out to vote, which cost me my position as a publisher. I was more than happy. Some brothers called me, hat was the firstime in 4 years that they made a phone call. The quarantine ended, and I finally returned to my office with my coworkers.
Then my grandmother reappeared, trying to condition me to become a preacher again, and she tried to manipulate me. I flatly refused and left. Then something worse happened: she came to live with us, and every day it was the same argument, until one day, during a trip to the beach (Cancun, baby), she tried to corner me with an elder and a pioneer. I simply told them to move away. They refused and said I had to come back and cut my hair. I told my grandmother no, and that I didn't want to talk about it with anyone anymore, that it was my life and she should use the little time she had left. Later, I found out that she had removed me from her will over some land in the outskirts of Cancun. I don't regret.
Then my father noticed something and told me that if he discovered anything, he would kick me out of the house. He asked me if I was gay, to which I replied "maybe." He said that if I declared it, I would have to leave the house. At that time, I had already broken up with my ex, who had moved to the center of the country. I talked to him and his current partner, and they said it would be no problem, that they could take me in if something happened. I told my sister about my suicidal thoughts after she asked what had happened with my father. Then, my parents got me a psychologist, who started helping me progress and overcome some of the issues I had with my self-esteem. However, what I didn't know was that he was leaking EVERYTHING to my parents, and thus they confirmed my sexuality and found out about my relationship.
I endured that year and told my parents that I would leave home on my 23rd birthday. I took the UNAM exam, which I didn't pass 😅😅. I told them, and they dropped a bombshell: "we were hoping you would fail your exam so you wouldn't leave." That gave me the impetus to do it, to finalize my escape. With anger and nostalgia, a few days later, I took a flight to another city where my friends took me in. I think I can consider them more than friends, they are my family, i have one on cancun, that needs to leave that religion. Right now, I'm looking into starting treatment again, specifically for victims of coercive sects. I live much more freely, maybe not in a super city, but happily, without my family's eyes always watching me. I have never felt so free in my life.
To the Jehovah's Witnesses reading this, remember, we born and raised in cages, but it is not a disease to fly; it is the freedom of this world that awaits us. It will be more dangerous, but it will also be much more interesting. You will be able to suffer and enjoy, love and pain, the full life, not a life of only pain to die in loneliness, to die with a false hope. You can move forward, you can make it; there are many like us out here. It will hurt, but once you learn to fly, you won't even want to look back. My life only began at 24, I am just about to start studying at university. I didn't study because of that religion, but I know I will soon. These chains are not that strong; they are just too big to carry. Throw them off and come fly with us.
This is my history, my life, the start of my new life.
Thanks everybody, you rocks!

I really liked you, I adored you so much, although you hated me when you had hardly known me, and I don't know why. I forgave you when you laughed in my face while you were high and I mentioned my dad passed away. I defended you when they talked badly about you. Only to hear you (when I walked away after you discarded me), said some horrible things about me, and you denied it when I confronted you, yet I still forgave you. When you aren't owed my forgiveness.
When your ex treated you badly, and hurt you, I listened to every word you said, and tried my best to make you feel better and appreciated, and loved. I remember everything little small thing about you that you tell me. How you like The Weeknd, how you went and saw Tame Impala, your favourite colour, your favourite animal, how your speech is affected due to your hearing. Yet you can't even remember a single thing about me and brag how you can't remember anything about the previous girls. On your birthday I was the first to wish you a happy birthday and make you feel special when you didn't bother to wish me one until I reminded you.
You kept stringing me along, and every day we spoke for months, calling me pet names, trying to convince me I was your only one, you told me I was your missing piece. Then just like that, you discarded me, for her. I get it, she's 4 years younger than me, and only 20. She has pretty blue eyes, while mine are merely just brown, she has full lips, while I have a bump on my nose. I get it, she is better.
You told me you replaced me, and treated me so badly, so coldly. Then after a month when she did to you, what you did to me, you came back to me.
I let you in, I forgave you. Despite how cruel you were. Just because I missed you. I stroked your ego, because she hurt you, making sure you were okay, when you didn't even care that you left my heart bleeding and I couldn't even eat. Then just like that, you didn't care. I was discarded again, showing me text messages of a girl that desired you, telling me you weren't ready and need to heal. Leading me on, calling me baby, bubba, beautiful... Only to say you're "seeing other girls" and just "being nice" and it means nothing.
You messaged me, being sensual in texts, trying to get in my bed, and when I said no, you ran to her, and made her your girlfriend, again. Then you rubbed it in my face when I tried to walk away, telling me you have a great life. You brag on social media how happy you are, and she brags how happy you make her.
You skin picked me like a vulture, until there was nothing left, just a skeleton with no heartbeat.
And the worst of all, isn't even the fact that you convinced me I am not good enough... I'm wasting tears, but I'll never understand how my absence means nothing to you, and never has. You miss the other girls, but I'm not even a passing thought in your head.
I can't even be mad at you, because I'm the fool who let it all happened, all because I liked you, and you told me you liked me too.
Congratulations, you won.

Me ( 29 yr old M) and my ex gf (27 yr old) had been together for 4 years up until June of 2022. Granted I was very wishy washy in our relationship when we’d argue at times . I’d say things like “ I’m leaving you” after a heated argument but I’d apologize not a few hours later . Regular argument stuff. Mind you my Gf lived with me rent free for 4 years all through her post college grad days and working towards her becoming a doctor . she never paid any food bill or anything as long as she was with me . Took her to the Cayman Islands Turks and Caicos , paid for all her bags , expensive shoes everything . . In sepetember of 2022, my GF had been going out to a bar a couple weekends in a row. That one night she disappeared for hours while I was texting her and when I spoke to her on the phone while she was out she told me that she was waiting in the lobby while her friend was upstairs having sex with some guy . That night she comes home and tells me “ she needed a break” .
I sensed something was up and asked her repeatedly if she was talking to another guy . She finally fessed up and told me she had met a bartender while she was out . I went through her phone and she was hanging out with the dude all through the night . She told me nothing happened . That morning I came to my senses and told her to get her belongings and go back to college campus she couldn’t stay with me anymore
She cried begged and pleaded with me to take her back and that she would never go to the bar again to where the bartender works. Mind you this is my first girlfriend so I’m a novice at this . I let her back in and two weekends later my friend said he saw her at the same bar . I asked her why did she go there and was the bartender there to which she told me he wasn’t and she went in there to use the bathroom. She finally told me that the bartender was there and that they talked . I took her back AGAIN. As months went on into 2023 she broke up with me and moved out and got her own place all the while telling me that her intentions was for us to get back together . So I thought that we were going to work on things . I took her to the Cayman Islands and everything .
Come to find out she had met a barber and was talking to him behind my back and using the excuse that “ we were single.” She would hang out with me and literally go home and have “ sleepovers” with this guy. I even caught her texting him that she missed him. We went out to a concert and she saw the guy and even asked if she could go say hello to him. I was so upset that I told her I never wanted to talk to her again. She wrote me a love letter saying she was sorry again . I ended up sleeping with a girl and told her .
She treated me like I was such a bad person for it . Saying she would never cross that line while we were talking to each other. This didn’t make sense to me because she said all she did with others was have sleep overs . Which I still don’t believe . Fast forward to this year , all the while telling me I crossed the line , come to find out she had given oral sex to a football player before I even did what I did in which she claims that they didn’t have sex and that’s all she did . This year on my birthday she even lied to me and said she fell asleep one night and I figured out she had another guy at her house . I went to her house and saw flowers and everything there . I asked her about him and she said “ if you can’t be here and not ask me questions about this guy then we don’t need to be friends.” She was taking to this new guy for the past 6 months while talking to me still. A guy who had invested so much into her .
So I blocked her number with the intentions of never talking to her again . I started getting in really great shape mentally spiritually and physically . In April she came back begging and crying and saying she was going to kill herself and she can’t see life without me . I took her back again but now my anxiety is so high and everything she does I question . I can’t stop mentioning the past even though she has done nothing this time around . It has really ruined whatever we had left . She has really been trying . I developed crazy OCD around her checking her phone , wondering what she is doing in her free time . I feel guilty because she has forgiven me and doesn’t ask me anything about what I have been doing but why can’t I forgive her ? Did my verbally abusive ways early in our relationship cause her to cheat and lie repeatedly ? So many questions run though my mind . We constantly argue now because I can’t get over what she has done . Am I in the wrong ? Need advice .

I'm (f26) not the jealous type typically. And I've been working on self improvement and unpacking emotions that I've buried away my whole life, the past couple of years. My boyfriend is a beautiful human and my friends are pretty great, but I'm jealous of most of them. I'm even jealous of my brother, he got put into foster care when he was 16 and got a new family. They all have big houses (middle class) (excluding my brother)and families who love them. When birthdays and Christmas comes around, they get gifts and taken out to dinner. If they were to lose everything, they could go home to their parents and they'd be ok. With that being said, I am very happy for them, but it makes me kind of sad for me. My birthday is coming up soon and I know I'll have a good time with my boyfriend and my friends, which I'm very very grateful for. But I'll probably just get a quick call from my dad (technically step dad, both bio parents died a few years ago, not that them being alive would make this much different tbh)(my dad lives 10 minutes away), a call from my siblings and some posts on fb from some friends and family. I won't have a birthday dinner with my family or a cake or any gifts from them. I probably won't even see them. My dad only really calls when he needs something. I don't go to him for literally anything as I'm more adult than he is. I know some of this may seem a bit childish, but this isn't a new issue. One that sticks out in my mind is my 16th birthday, my parents were both in jail and everyone else forgot about me existing. I've been working on giving myself the love that I need and working on my inner self and I'm doing a pretty good job... But that doesn't really replace having a supportive family. I'm happy for my friends and boyfriend for what they have. I'm happy for my brother for getting put into foster care and being given a nice family and government benefits. I wish I had all of that. And sometimes when special occasions happen, I see how their families celebrate them or just are normal and sweet to them and I just get incredibly jealous (they'll never know unless I tell them though, I don't want my sour emotions to ruin their special days/holidays). Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly grateful for my friends and boyfriend and my siblings. But I want a family I can go to instead of being a drifter.
How do I get over the jealousy?
Tldr- I'm jealous of my friends and boyfriend for having supporting families.

When people talk about their family vacations, celebrating holidays, their schools years, siblings, grand parents I don't usually have anything to say. I actually have a lot to say, but my life for the most part is as appropriate to open up about as is violet farting at a reception. TW violence
Sometimes I find it very silly - one can say what their parents did for them on their birthday, another one can not. Because the first one got a cake and lego set, and the second one got grabbed by the hair and had their face beaten to a wall. Neither did anything wrong, but the second one would be judged for speaking about what they had for birthdays. The first one is being a nice person telling a wholesome story, another one is trauma dumping and borderline abusive, making people uncomfortable and enjoying being shocking. While both technically describe their birthday. The second one didn't ask for this, didn't orchestrate it for a "shocking" story, it's just a mundane thing that was their life, like cakes and legos for the first guy (though that one probably did ask for it).
I'm not stupid (ok, I am, but), I understand the concept of social norms and keeping sensitive information to yourself, not burdening other people, maintaining boundaries blah blah. And I get it, I really do. But sometimes I imagine how it could have been if there wasn't a stigma for at least childhood abuse. If it wasn't inappropriate or shameful just to be able to talk about my life and answer questions. "How did your family celebrate /winter holidays/?" "My dad got drunk and my mom beat me in the head for it, because it was my duty to be 'the cement of the family' but I didn't make them happy because I was mentally delayed and sick and they needed a normal child, then she beat me for a mess at home, lack of intelligence and effort and that stuff. I was terrified of gifting her a present, because I could only buy it with pocket money she gave me, but then beat me for buying something cheap, but there was no possibility to buy better gifts with child's pocket money. If dad gave her a bad present, she would, lol, beat me of course. Then we ate salad and watched tv, I love that salad and retro movies they used to circulate back then each new year." "Do I need to ask you about how your birthdays went on, or is it safe to assume you got beat in the head?" "Correct, that's basically it, but there were specials with twists and turns, like one time my parents came to visit me while I stayed with my grandma and found me unresponsive with a hand broken off at the elbow, I've been like that for days they said."
And all the people I ever talked to about myself would know me, where I come from, how this weird thing they see formed, they would know those experiences exist near them, they would probably even realise these things can happen around them right now. This transparency could affect loneliness epidemic, laws, education, career choices, health and help services, safety of children who would know they can talk about those things happening to them.

Me [24F] and my [23M] boyfriend broke up because of religious differences 6 months ago. We agreed to remain friends, and we didn’t have a proper no contact period. Between January and February, we met up a few times /hooked up and we had sex on his birthday and then didn’t see each other her for a couple months due to busy schedules. In April, I suggested that we see eachother as much as possible, given that he is moving away in June. With every time we hung out, his walls started to go down, and the distance he put between us became smaller, to the point where he kisses me in front of his siblings and we were being very coupley in front of his parents (my leg on top of his at the cabin, playing with my hair, etc.). I understand that this will have to end when he leaves, but all that’s been said is that he will keep texting me as frequently when he leaves because he sees it as sustainable. I have a hard time saying no to that, I don’t know how to bring up the topic, I don’t feel like I am in a place where I want to move on but I’m not sure this is the best thing for me. So, my question is; how to initiate the topic and request a plan for what happens when he leaves?
TL;DR:Me and my ex-BF are unofficially seeing eachother but he is moving next week, how to initiate a conversation about boundaries/rules of what happens when he leaves?

(I tagged it as a spoiler due to it containing spoilers for Sins Of The Flesh. I made this because I thought Sozo hacked my switch because my nickname is Mimi and one of the thoughts sozo can have mentions someone named that. I’ve never written horror before so forgive me if it’s a bit cringe.)
Ever since I had gotten Cult of the Lamb for my birthday last year, I played it nonstop. It cheered me up, even after my brother went missing in the woods with his pet ant Mark. I would play from when I got home to when I went to bed. I considered it my favorite game until the incident. I was playing and trying to get every single achievement. One of the ones I needed was “Regenerate”. I placed the Seed Of Sozo in my farm plot. When Sozo popped out from the ground, he said his usual dialogue and I thought nothing of it until I read his mind. Usually there would be some thoughts for when sozo popped up from the ground, but the only thought that was present read as follows,”Sozo needs, Where are….Mimi?” I was creeped out because ever since middle school, people called me by that name. I suppose Miriam is a bit of a hard name to spell. But Sozo acted normally, so I thought nothing of it. However, Sozo came up to me with a quest asking for a follower from Anura. I brought the follower back home, and it looked like the mushroomos in spore grotto. I always had an OC I made when I was in kindergarten named David. He was a mushroom with two legs and he was green. I decided to name this Mushroomo after them. Sozo then thanked me and said he would “take care of him.” I went to do a sermon and David was not there. I took Sozo into confession and what I saw horrified me. Bits of David were sprawled around his mouth and there was blood dripping from the bits as well. The creepiest part was that after the confession he went over to me again. He asked for more mushroomos, but I declined him. He then started to dissent so I put them in prison. After I re educated him, the mushroom popped off his head and he looked around, dazed. He said his usual dialogue, but after he gave me his follower form, he said,” I also can’t help but feel I did something wrong. Like something in my gut is telling me I did the wrong thing. But I’m sure it’s nothing.” After that, Dr. Sozo would not work and the only job he would do was being a drinktender at the bar. I decided to get another follower and I made another mushroomo named David . I did a drum circle with Sozo, and Sozo was filled with sin. However, instead of rising up like normal, he ran over to David and dragged him over as he kicked and screamed. And these weren’t the normal follower cries. These sounded real. Sozo then ate David , until all that was left was a carcass. My followers started to panic, most of them running away. The lamb then absolved them of sin and Dr. Sozo looked at what he did and spoke through the game, saying, ”what have I done?” The game then crashed, showing me the crash screen. I was creeped out by it but decided to boot the game back up. It didn’t show the title screen, but instead a carcass of a young boy bleeding out. Text then appeared, saying,” This is what happens when you eat our kind, Mark.” The ant carcass then got up. He then turned to face me and started speaking. The ant sounded like my brother. He said,” Why did you bring him here. All I wanted was to be free without him. Why did you take that away?” I realized he was talking to me and I said,” What are you talking about?” He then said,” Big sis, why did you let him eat me?” The game then crashed again. When I loaded my save, Sozo was stuck in prison like I left him. I re educated him again and he said the same thing as before. I decided for the better to kill him, so I sacrificed Sozo to Midas, and it was all back to normal since. I still don’t know who that was speaking to me, but it wasn’t sozo. It was someone I knew. I think….
it was my brother.

First off, I know I am a coward and should have had an adult conversation with this person, but I guess I let my hurt feelings about their behaviour get in the way and now it’s been too long and I don’t think I want them in my life anymore after how they behaved.
My husband and I wanted a small and non-traditional wedding. I hated the idea of a big wedding party as I’ve seen them play out in all the dramatic fashion and didn’t want that for my nearest and dearest. I also really don’t like asking for help and don’t want to be a burden to anyone and asking them to pay for stuff just for our wedding just didn’t sit right with me. I also have some close friends from overseas (I’m not from the country I got married in) and if I was doing a traditional bridal party, I would have asked them, but dealing with a global bridal party just seemed like too much hassle and I wanted everyone to enjoy the party without the “role” of a bridesmaid. I decided to just have my only sister (who is also my best friend) and my husband had his best friend from childhood.
I felt things started to go south from there.
My “so-called friend” couldn’t make time for a chill bachelorette party as she had too many holidays planned and it wouldn’t be fair to her husband to take a local weekend away (nothing major, maybe an hour away and just for the weekend). I even offered something local like going to high tea, but no so I didn’t bother trying anything with her for that again.
Then, when she promised she’d stay on-site for the wedding, then suddenly she couldn’t for work reasons. Even though she had known for a year and requested the nicest room which we booked and paid in advance for her. I didn’t even get a call, just a text saying that she couldn’t stay anymore because of work reasons. I had other friends stay the night and go to work the next day, but she just couldn’t make the effort and her excuse seemed super flimsy as she’s not a shift worker and quite senior so she would have flexibility.
Then, apparently, she was complaining about the food and things at the actual wedding even though I went above and beyond for her dietary requirements and my sister even paid for special cupcakes to suit her needs so she wouldn’t be left out with the wedding cake.
Lastly, we had cute wedding glasses as props at the wedding for guests to enjoy and we were fine with them taking them after the fact. But she stole a few pairs from another guest and then used them as props at a party the next week that I wasn’t even invited to!
She showed me her true colours and everything seems to have gone downhill after I didn’t ask her to be a bridesmaid. I could have understood if I had asked others and didn’t ask her, but I had my only sister and that was it. She was super excited about the wedding before and even made a Pinterest board (before we got engaged) so was excited to be a part of things up until she didn’t get her way of being a bridesmaid. Maybe it’s me, but I don’t hold being a bridesmaid as being a make-or-break thing, weddings have always seemed over the top to me and I wanted something simple.
In hindsight, I should have been braver and tried to have a conversation with her about all of this, but I guess I was just so shocked by her complete turnaround as a friend. I had gone above and beyond for her so many times and made sure I was always there for her big events, I just didn’t want to beg someone who clearly didn’t want to support me anymore. If there was something else going on, she didn’t say anything at all. I was also super conscious of not being one of those people that turns their wedding into their whole personality so I know it couldn’t have been that as I rarely brought it up.
Anyway, I’m glad I know who she really is now, but it’s still hard to lose someone who you thought really cared about you.

(Background) Back in 2016, my boyfriend at the time had started talking about him moving from his state to mine. We began looking at possible job opportunities for him as well as a better apartment. He came to my states to celebrate our birthdays because they’re only a week apart during the same month. We had a wonderful time! While we did all sorts of fun activities, we spent a lot of time planning the move. Fast forward to the day he flew home. He calls me from the plane and tells me that he is still engaged. I don’t really remember much about the conversation after his revelation because I was devastated.
About 3 years ago we decided to give it another go at the relationship thing. This past year, things have started getting serious. We’ve been looking at engagement rings, I’ve met his family, and once again we’re at a place where we are looking for job opportunities because the plan is for him to move to my state. The plan was for him to move sometime in May/June of this year.
(The problem) About a month ago, he calls me up and says the classic line, “we need to talk”. He then proceeds to tell me (not ask my input) how the move will have to be pushed back because he wants to throw his mother a party for her 60th birthday. His mother’s birthday is in September. Initially, I wanted to know how big of a party he was planning to throw. He started talking about how him and his sister are looking for a venue and a caterer. I just said “okay” and tried to suppress the familiar feeling of not being his priority.
The following day, I asked one main question: who is contributing to the cost of the party? He said that he would be splitting the cost with his sister. Normally, that would suffice as an answer, but his sister does not have a job. Her only source of income (from what he has told me) is the checks she receives for a couple of her special needs children ( she has a total of 4, but not all are special needs) and whatever extra she can get from one of her children’s father because he pays her rent. He said that his mother’s husband is not contributing because he does not know about the planned surprise.
Based off of what he told me, and knowing that he barely makes enough to get by (not a criticism at all), I stated that because it would take a lot of saving after throwing such an elaborate party that in my mind, it would be well into 2025 before any move or engagement would happen. He paused and then agreed that my assessment of the situation was correct. I again don’t say anything about it for a couple of days because I didn’t want to overreact. It was a few days later that he casually states that he is going to have to get a second job in order to pay for all of this. For me, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I told him I was angry, and I would let home know when I was ready to talk about it. A week later he calls me demanding answers. I told him how in my mind, he chose his mother over starting a life with me just like he chose his (now ex) over starting a life with me all those years ago. His response was “I apologized for that and we knew it was going to be a hard thing to deal with”. I’m not the type to rush into a decision, and if forced or rushed, I will cut ties and call it done. I eventually told him that I thought we should end it since he wanted a quick answer. This is the aftermath via text ( had to copy/paste):
Me:
“My anger at you does not cancel my love for you. I specifically told you I was not ready to talk. When you called wanting an answer right then, you got the response fueled by my hurt and confusion. This is why I told you I wasn't ready to answer. So this is where we are. I stopped trying to rationalize and evaluate my feelings about this. I don't want to ask any more questions. I am exhausted from this emotional roller coaster. For now, I am going focus on trying to get out of this negative head space and get myself back to being able to eat without having to force myself.”
Him:
“I want you to be better, your health is and always be top of my list. I told you that this time around was not going to be easy. Because of what I did to u before. I also told you that I would do anything to fight for our love. If you need more time I am willing to give u more time. Just let me know you need the time.
I'm not welling to let go just that easy.”
Me: “I already told you that and that didn't work “
Him: “I didn't understand then and I'm sorry”
So AITA?

Previous part
Before I go on with the story, I wanted to mention that I finally got around to checking my text messages. I shouldn’t be surprised that all of them were furious. I don’t blame them. I’m still distraught about the whole situation. I pretty much lost all of my friends in one day; all because I thought that a little boy’s doll would come to life and... well...
Just, listen to me.
I know that all of this will sound insane. But everything I am about to tell you happened before. I feel like I can’t bring myself to even think of the moment, let alone tell you, but I need to press on. It is time that you understand the moment that everything changed forever—Pete's 11th birthday party.
What happened on that day plays over and over again in my mind. It doesn’t matter that 30 years have passed. Not a night goes by where I am wrenched from my beleaguered sleep and find myself gasping for air in a pool of my own sweat. Years of broken sleep will get to a person over time. And so, I grew agitated and depressed. I was on and off on medication, and in and out of therapy.
Now, I don’t always freak out when I see them in pictures or on display in a shop’s front window. If I keep my distance and they keep theirs, I am fine. I mean, my breathing would quicken, and my heart would pump hard, but the moment would pass, and I’d come back to some level of normalcy. I’ve got my own way to deal with such a situation. I’d close my eyes and count from 100 to zero, deeply breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, before slowly turning and walking away.
Oh, right. I guess you want to hear what happened.
XXXXX
Pete and his family lived in a massive two-story house with an acre of forestry within their property line. The house was miles outside of town. It was cozy but isolated.
I carpooled with Andy and his parents. We met up with Mark and his dad in the house. Our jaws dropped at how beautiful the house and their property were; none of us had ever been to such a fancy place.
Andy’s mom mentioned in the car that what she heard from the other moms was that Pete’s dad, George, worked as an inventor and toymaker for a company that no one had heard of, and his mom, Wendy, was a stay-at-home mom. She had tried to invite her out for coffee with the other moms. In the end she decided not to. Wendy’s presence was just too off-putting.
“She wouldn’t stop smiling,” Andy’s mom recalled, “and she’d just nod her head without saying anything. Not a word. And she moved in this very odd, kind of funny way, too. Like she didn’t know how to use her arms or legs.”
Kind of like how Pete was on his first day of class.
The family greeted the guests in the foyer with excited eyes and gaping smiles. They were the picture perfect of a 1950s TV sitcom family. Pete had on a blue and yellow checkered suit with a yellow bowtie. George also wore the same style of suit but with a blue tie. His outfit was topped with a tobacco pipe hanging at the side of his mouth. Wendy had on a yellow dress with a blue ribbon tied around her waist, and her flaming red hair rolled up in a bouffant hairstyle.
There were a couple of dozens of us that showed up to the party. Most of the parents came along, too. My mom couldn’t come; she was stuck at the restaurant picking up someone else’s shift. That was to say nothing of her continued fear and suspicion about the whole kidnapper situation. She believed they were still out there, and that the cops had gotten the wrong person.
Everyone was led into a banquet hall where a great feast waited for us. We stuffed ourselves until the buttons on our pants threatened to burst. Fat roasted turkey thighs, mince pies, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, a mountain of steaming sweet biscuits. The choices were endless. And the moms and dads enjoyed themselves, drinking the wine that Wendy, smiling emptily and silently, served.
George went around telling stories to anyone who’d be willing to listen. He was incredibly intelligent with a wide breadth of knowledge of world history. He spoke about historical events as if he’d been there himself, describing in such vivid detail of the event’s atmosphere like how the heaviness of grief weighed in the air at Alexander the Great’s funeral procession, and how frigid cold the Russian winter was in 1812 when Napoleon Bonaparte’s army marched towards Moscow.
He showed us a room filled with his collection of ancient artifacts, even an American Civil War-era musket rifle with a Minie ball still lodged inside. But what caught my attention and raised the hairs on my body were three mummies behind a glass case. They were about my height and, judging by the smallness of their faces, they had died as children.
“Why do you have those?” I asked.
George grinned. “Well, why not?”
“Where’d you get them from?” asked Andy.
“Far and near...”
Squinting, Mark stepped up closer to the glass. “Are they real?”
“What do your eyes tell you?”
Together, we pressed our noses to the glass, staring hard at these mummies. Their skin was withered brown, and parts of their yellowed bone were exposed. They stared back at us with dark empty sockets and twisted mouths as though they’d come face to face with something more terrifying and terrible than death. None of the adults with us thought it weird that this family had such a collection. The moms and dads were starting to act a bit giddy and silly; it was the generous amount of wine they’d drunk, probably.
After a tour of George’s mini-home museum, we were led into an adjacent room filled with toys, clowns, dolls, and a bizarre collection of crossbred animals. A full train set wound about the length of the room and over our heads. This was Pete’s playroom, and George had designed every toy. This massive room with all the toys and games was more than what a child could dream of.
Unable to control ourselves, we got our hands on everything; we were a bunch of 10-year-olds after all. We played with the toys and shrieked with laughter. The moms and dads watched us as they drank the wine Wendy was serving them. Before we knew it, time flew by, and the sun had long since gone down. The grandfather clock struck 9 o’clock. But we weren’t tired; we wanted to play some more. So, we were thrilled when the grown-ups nodded and agreed to let us go on.
Shining with happiness, Pete announced that we were to play a special game, even the grown-ups would be involved.
“This game is called Catch the Souls!” he said. “The rules are quite simple. There are two types of players: souls and catchers. The game will be played both in the dark and in the light. Souls are safe in the light and the catchers won’t be able to move. But when the lights are off, souls better find a place to hide for the catchers will hunt you down and bring you to the king—me!"
“Then, how do we know if we’ve won?” I asked.
His eyes darkened as the pupils enlarged. “Well, when you see the sun rise, then you’ll know.” My stomach sank.
Were we really going to play all night?
I looked at the others to see if they also thought this was a ridiculous idea. Much to my surprise, the others buzzed with excitement, even the adults were eager to play. No one wanted to go home just yet. They wanted to play more. And, surprisingly, I wasn’t at all that tired or sleepy either. George ordered for the moms and dads to follow him into another room; they were to put on their “catcher” costumes.
Mark, Andy, and I decided to stick together. We figured that if we could find a good spot to hide out in, we could wait there until the game was over. At the beginning of the game, all the lights were on in every room and hallway, and Pete counted backwards from 100.
My friends and I bolted. We didn’t realize how huge the house was. It was like a never-ending labyrinth. One door would lead to nowhere except a brick wall, or a sudden drop into what looked like a bottomless pit. Andy had nearly fallen into one and was only saved when Mark and I caught him by the arms as he fell and clung desperately to the doorknob.
The hallways echoed with giggles of excitement. But once the lights began to flicker, the whole house plunged into darkness. We hurried into another room. I hid behind a desk, Mark behind a big tapestry, and Andy in the corner of the room squatting behind a tall vase.
We waited.
We held our breath.
A hair-raising scream erupted in another room. Followed by another, then another. Three in succession.
“What was that?” I heard Mark ask, shakily.
“What are you doing?” Andy cried.
Peeking around the corner of the desk, I spotted Mark out from his hiding spot and poking his head out the door. He quickly shut the door and scrambled back behind the tapestry. Before I could ask him what he saw, the door opened. My body instantly went rigid. I was terrified that if I were to move or breathe, I’d get caught. I certainly didn’t want to find out what Pete would do to me.
A tall, shadowy figure with two long pointed ears entered the room. It was a Catcher. It hopped slowly around the room like a rabbit, playing with the leaves of the plants in the tall vase and sniffing around the tapestry. Then it turned its attention to the desk. I scooted back underneath the desk and slapped my hand over my mouth, desperate not to make a sound. I heard it hop into the air before its feet landed gently on the floor right next to the desk. It took a step closer to the spot where I lay in a fetal position. I hoped that I was small enough that it wouldn’t notice me.
Light swept throughout the room. And I let out a breath of relief. We were safe when the lights were on. That was the rule of the game, I reminded myself. I crawled out from underneath the desk and froze as I came face to face with a giant pink bunny. I knew that inside the costume was a classmate’s parent. But there was something off about it, like it had no good intentions. It stared back with large black orbs for eyes. Its large buck teeth dripped droplets of red on the white carpet. Dark red chunks like mushed up beets fell from its mouth.
“Benjie! Don’t just stand there!” Mark pulled me out of the trance, and I ran out with them. At the end of the hallway, we saw another Catcher dressed in a court blue and yellow jester suit and mask.
The lights flickered; one minute warning for us to find another hiding spot. Without looking back, we ran and tried getting into another room. With utter mortification I learned that most of the doors were locked. Not only that, but others only led to dead ends. We went through one door that led to another hallway that stretched on endlessly with rows of doors on either side of us.
Behind us, the bells jingled on the dangling sleeves of the jester’s cap ‘n’ bells. It got closer and closer. Of course, I stupidly looked back. One by one the wall lights went out, and the laughing jester twirled and leapt its way to us.
We came to a door at the end of the hallway, but it wouldn’t budge. Andy banged on it and twisted the knob as hard as he could.
“I want to stop playing this game,” Mark sobbed. He backed into the corner, trembling and crying. A dark wet spot appeared in front of his pants. I also felt something wet and warm trickling down my pants.
The jester was approaching, inching closer and closer by the second. And then, it stopped. It squatted in the dark with its hands under its chin, gazing at us with its harrowing black eyes. The only thing keeping it from capturing us was that the light from a single wall lamp shielded us. Sniffling and wiping his tears away, Mark squeaked, “Dad?” He took a step forward with an outreached hand seeking a sliver of comfort.
“I don’t think he’s your dad,” I said, but my words didn’t reach him. The jester gestured with a single finger for him to come closer.
“I got it! Come on, guys!” Andy cried, happily, as the door finally swung inward with a hard kick revealing a lighted room. I grabbed hold of Mark’s arm, but he shook me off. And I watched in horror as he tugged on the jester’s mask and pulled it off.
It was Mark’s dad behind the mask. His smile was split so wide, I could see his gums bleed and the skin at the corners of his lips had torn. He was foaming heavily at the mouth like a rabid dog.
“Dad...” Mark uttered.
The wall light went out. And that was the last I saw of him.
XXXXX
I’ll have to continue with my story later. I need to eat something. I can’t remember the last time I did. The hunger is gnawing my stomach. There’s nothing in the fridge. I didn’t even get leftovers from my friend’s birthday party. It’s okay. All I need now is to feed this body.

Hi all, after a bit of advice! NC with my narcissistic mother, my dad lives quite far away and I'm NC with my brother who is... Well a character. The only person I'm in contact with is my sister but I keep her at arms length as she has shown signs of narcissistic behaviour and attitude.
She has a daughter under 3 whose birthday is coming up. We live an hour away with no car and we rely on trains (the UK trains can be unpredictable) to get to hers would be three trains. I also have two chronic conditions that slows me down. She has a car, she drove up near us last week to take her kid to the zoo. Not a word to us about it of course.
I haven't seen my sister or niece since November last year despite asking her if they'd like come to events nearby or us go to them. She bats us away. That's fine. I dislike children tbh but I was willing to make the effort as the kid is blood.
I've purchased a birthday present for my niece and text to ask when they might be free as I'm going to drop it off if possible (my pain seems to be taking a few days off) she said "sure, we are free until late June due to partners family coming down" I gave a date but then she said.... Actually we are busy after all so come during a weekday which she knows can be tricky as I'm currently undertaking a remote course which she knows about and knows my days can be 10hrs long at times. My husband works so wouldn't be able to come with.
I feel offended.
I feel like growing up with a batshit crazy narc mother has hardened me but I'm trying to do better for my own sake. To me, her attitude is so like my mother. I find myself trying to gain her approval to be part of a kids life because ... I have no idea why. Sense of duty maybe?
I nearly died last year April due to an operation complication and I didn't hear from her. I sent them all gifts for Christmas (I'm off work due to sickness) I saved all year and didn't hear much. I think it would have been nice to hear the kid liked her present and so on.
I can't tell if my walls are up, I'm over sensitive or if this is just another rejection because I don't go to see them because she is the one with the kid. I'm just the one with the illnesses that leave me bed bound. No biggie. Being a mother is far more work.
I was bed bound most of last year up until march of this and we saw her in the flesh ... Twice. She never asks about my health, life, husband, anything really. Just talks about herself. She can be very dismissive and quite cruel at times. It must be about HER CHILD. Nothing else matters.
Just makes me sad. Im worried she has narc tendancies or she may in fact be a narcissist. I wanted to be apart of their lives but I think I'm being punished for being sick and bed bound and of course child free. She hates that.
I want to go low contact. Would that be unreasonable? I just want to protect my peace and don't see why I have to make the effort anymore. Child free doesn't mean I'm the devil, neither does being sick!

Okay, silly question, but i have search online for the answer and failed. I have recently fell in love with making realistic cakes for my families birthdays and been getting more and more creative with each one. From fondant to molding chocolate, more flavors and sculpting. I have the sculting and cake creations down, but now the issue is coloring.
I used to use fondant which was easier to color then shape, but my family is tired of the taste of it. So i had to switch to whitw molding chocolate which was easier to sculpt and hold shapes. The issue is coloring. If i add food coloring it turns to mush and wont hold shapes, so i have tried airbrushing. It "worked" last year with a charizard, but the coloring i used was gel and clogged easily. So i bought Futebo food colors and tried to add Everclear to make it stick. Other than buying specific molding chocolate colors I am lost.
So the cake was in the fridge to keep it from melting, of course it was hot out so the cake sweat and the food coloring was super blotchy. How do i make this work? Should i not chill the cake? What is the ratio of coloring to everclear?

(sorry in advance for the lengthy post)
i’ve (25 f infj) been texting him (25 m istp) since feb 2023 and it has been an ongoing conversation from then till now (still ongoing). we don’t necessarily text each other daily but essentially the conversation never ceases. we don’t necessarily talk about anything per se, just random topics and/or day-to-day updates and the text bubbles from each end takes up the entire phone screen, or more. sometimes he’d reply one or two messages first as they may be more time-sensitive, but he’ll always get back to the rest of the texts eventually
i’ve done a deep dive on this subreddit as well as istp and i came to the conclusion that istp would not bother doing anything they didn’t want to, and they never mean anything more than what they say, i.e., to just take what they say as is and don’t overthink it. but as you might already imagine - this does not necessarily come easily nor naturally to the infj (i know.. i know.. i wish i wasn’t like that too)
some things that have led me to think he might be interested(?):
• he doesn’t have female friends he texts on the daily other than me (at least that’s what he says)
• for a period of time (about half a year) we met and hung out one on one on an almost-daily basis - we were staying in the same dormitory. he mentioned a few times he does not hang out with females one on one
• to be fair we did stop talking for a few months after i moved out, but he restarted the conversation by sending me a link to one of those personality quiz gimmicks i always do (and also sent him) for the lols
• i was feeling down one day and unsure about our friendship (basically overthinking) but he reassured me and told me that “if it helps”, he’s done things for me that he didn’t do for others
• he says on multiple occasions he doesn’t remember birthdays but he remembers mine and wishes me on the dot.
• he always wants to treat me to food/ drinks but i’ll always pay him back so he has yet to succeed. there was this time i posted about someone giving me a treat me and i said i was very touched about it - he then replied saying he always wanted to give me a treat but i always denied him of the opportunity.
• i sprained my ankle when we were out, and he bought ice for me, even though i kept saying i didn’t need it.
• he remembers what i like and would bring it up in conversations every now and then, or send me pictures if he sees things i like
• a lot of times in group settings we tend to gravitate towards each other and end up having our own conversations.
• he got me a souveni gift on his trip. for some reason i don’t feel like this is normal behaviour from an istp because you guys are so practical and don’t seem to believe in gifts (pardon me if i am mistaken)
i think it’s hard for me to discern because he doesn’t have any other close female friends for me to compare his interactions against, though i do know there’s nothing you can make an istp do if they don’t want to do it. but yeah i don’t know! appreciate any guidance and/or advice.

I left when I was about 14, kicked out of my house at 17 then started dating a Worldly Girl when I was 18. Her mom was super sweet to me, she had heard of how I grew up and in one of our long conversations she just couldn't believe that I never had a Birthday Party in my life.
She took it upon herself to invite a lot of people and throw me a little birthday party for my 19th birthday at a pizza place. She got me a Garfield birthday cake, I think she had so much fun throwing a birthday for someone who had never had one before.
It was funny, but I felt so out of place and almost looking over my shoulder in kind of a way.
People there came up to me and were like OK how is it possible that you never had a birthday before. One lady had tears in her eyes and was like Darling that is so sad.
If worldly people find out you never had a birthday before be prepared, ha ha, ha,

so i (17) and my family are currently on our first trip to the usa and specifically to new york city. we arrived yesterday and due to flights and timezones it ended up being a long one. we have the rest of today and then three more days here before we go home to wales. i should also mention this is strictly a trip for my mother's birthday, she turned 50 earlier this year, so during the planning/organising there was a lot of focus on it being "her" thing. there were activities picked by me, my dad and sister though: my two were visiting ellen's stardust diner and i was the main person is choosing the show we saw because i'm somewhat of a theatre kid.
issue happened earlier today. we were out for most of the morning and i was absolutely fine for all that outside of getting kinda warm, as we all did, because it's new york in late may. we wandered for a bit, went to see ground zero and then came back to the hotel, with the original plan being that we would all go on the ferry ride around the city together. i started feeling nauseous whilst we were back at the hotel, like i was minutes away from throwing up. i went to the bathroom and tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away quickly before we left, but as the title suggests this did not happen. i told my parents i felt ill so we tried sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for it to clear up. it did not and my parents agreed to let me stay back by myself at the hotel whilst they and my sister went on the ferry. i have been told to text my dad every hour to let him know i'm okay, which i'm doing. however when i left them they seemed very annoyed and whilst we were leaving the room my mum told me i needed to learn to stick stuff out sometimes, such as feeling ill or walking long distances/standing for a while (i tend to sit down more than your average person during those things as i tire out quicker i guess). i feel insanely guilty for causing something like this on a trip that's for my mother and i'm already going to apologise when they get back and hopefully talk to them about it. AITA?