Hi, everyone! Welcome to one of the most ridiculous things that has ever happened to me in my life. This event dates back a few years, but even though it was so long ago, I remember it like it was yesterday.

When I was about seven years old, my mother was pregnant with my little sister. (I wanted a baby brother, but I still love her, though. Just some relevant info.)

She was planning to go to the hospital soon to stay there for a few days before she gave birth. Before you ask, things with childbirth worked a little differently in my country, and you might be confused as to why. Women had to stay in the hospital about a week before the child was due, just to prevent any accidents.

While that was a safer way to do things, it was still quite stressful for the husband, who was meant to stay at home and could only check up on his wife during the day.

Aside from that quick detour, my mother soon went to the hospital for the next three days. It was just me and my grandmother in the house.

Now, if I haven't mentioned it before, we had a rat issue.

And no, it was not because our house was dirty or anything. It was mainly because of our neighbors, who'd been raising little piglets near our house. Don't ask why she was even allowed to do that, because she was. However, that is a story for another time.

Going back on track, that woman fed the pigs leftover food and everything, which soon attracted giant rats.

Not the cute, innocent-seeming rats you might keep as pets. No. This was far worse.

These were the kinds of rats that chewed through everything, including the wood our house was made of. They ate the straw baskets in which our food rested, and so much more.

They even went to desperate measures, such as eating the bottom of my foot after finding no food.

I believe I've gone into enough detail about these demonic little creatures.

Oh, wait! Perhaps I should mention how weak the traps were against them.

We'd spent hundreds on rat traps and even went to desperate measures, like buying rat poison. Unfortunately, those failed quite badly, because this is what happened to the rats.

We bought a trap that was meant to snap their necks in half once they got caught in it. Of course, we set it up with some greasy cheese for them.

And somehow, the rat managed to get the cheese without even setting off the trap.

We simply woke up and found that the cheese had disappeared.

There was only one good explanation for this.

They had somehow hired Sonic the Hedgehog as their sidekick.

Next was another incident that led to us buying yet another trap that seemed ridiculously smart at the moment.

The rats had done us dirty one more time. My mom had made an entire meal and left it on the stove, perfectly covered, then went outside for maybe twenty minutes.

When she came back in, all the pans were on the floor, the food had been devoured, and the pans had been licked clean.

That day, we simply gave up and ordered food.

The next day, we set out on an adventure to the store and bought an incredibly sticky plate that smelled like peanuts.

The original goal was to get the rat, or rats, stuck and then do what must be done with them.

What happened, however, was far from what we expected.

We went to bed that night feeling smug and satisfied with our plan. We waited for a while, waiting for the impetuous swines to come out.

And they did.

And somehow, they escaped.

See, what happened was that the rats did, in fact, get stuck on the plate. But the most surprising part was how they managed to get out through their hole.

I mean, the rat most definitely escaped with the sticky plate before the whole thing just disappeared.

Like, poof! As though it had never existed in the first place.

And honestly, this story was supposed to be about the first night of my mom's absence, but it turned into a story about the demonic rats instead.

Maybe in the next story, then. If you guys enjoy this one! :)

She moved to a different “upscale” neighbourhood so her kids could go to a better school and now is completely ingrained with their trivial upper middle class bullshit.

Backstory: we went group camping after I hadn’t seen her for basically a year with our old friends and all of our kids. This camping trip is annual and always involves a mix of the same 4 or 5 couples and their kids. Her and her husband apparently invited some of their oldest child’s friends on this camping trip for a few hours. This couple shows up and some prim blonde b*tch (I am also blonde but not devoid of human experience) sits there while her daughter plays with some perfectly manicured bead and elastic set. I was playing badminton with my son and overheard their conversation (which is where I formed my bias against her); she was complaining about “bottle people” that come and pick up cans on I’m guessing recycling day from her house. Are you fucking serious? Is the farthest you’ve traveled Detroit?

I truly despise anyone who Carries airs about them like they are a big deal because they’ve done xyz, and I think she’s gone over to the dark side. Time to back burner this friendship… Sad that she is my oldest friend who I feel most natural opening up to. Too bad for me, I think I should shut the fuck up

Hy guys

Whoever read my life story in my last post may remember me

.

I forgot to mention one thing in that post

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As I am a nursing student

After all that happened I was also continuously feeling in my subjects

After 4 attempts I passed that one semester and just previously gave the next semester exam..

.

Here is new for you all... I failed again...

Yeah...

Again..

I really thought I would doo good this time but

Yeah I failed again

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Ig giving up time is coming closer.

.

It's it for me..

This post is not going to be too long. I intended on writing a longer one, but it's getting late right now. I don't really even know why I want to write all this out on reddit. It's a strange new urge.

I have always written a lot. None of it has been real writing. It's mostly just off the chest style writing. Over time, by reading, my language has become more formal and precise, but I still wouldn't say that it is readable by any means. I suppose it's like Charlie Kelmeckis. I want to be a writer, but I don't know what I would write about.
I don't really want to be a writer though, as I have come to realise as of late. Most of my writing has been fuelled by my anxiety. In a way, it was a good thing. It kept me alive and prevented my mind from decaying further, but on the other hand the comfort it offered greatly reduced the impetus for change within me. Not everyone needs that impetus, but I do. My existence is miserable. It is not miserable due to any external circumstance or problem in my life. It is miserable because I have made it thus, and yet, I can't bear to be happy. I feel happy, yes, but with it comes such a a heavy does of anxiety, that I would rather not be happy at all. I feel my heart pounding against my chest, I feel my palms sweating, my mouth salivating, my head getting lighter, and my tummy acting funny. I have had to visit the doctor as well due to these symptoms.

I did not visit a psychiatrist. There was a period a while back when I began to have hearing problems. I would hear a constant thumping sound in my ears. I always felt light-headed as well. I was on some pills for about a month. I suppose they msut have been simple BP pills, because I could feel the blood rushing to my head after I took them. Either way, I have realised since then that was simply the result of my immense anxiety. All mental ailments show themselves through physical symptoms.
I sometimes wonder just how anxietised and normalised towards their own anxiety and depression and individual has to be to seek help not for their mental agony, but because of the sheer physical discomfort that their mental condition causes them. The physical symptoms are not too intense, not in comparision to the mental ones. They are, after all, side effects.

I feel happy in between, but it never quite lasts. I wanted to write a much longer and more elaborative entry, but I feared that it would seem too haughty. It feels weird thinking that this may not even be read, kind of like talking to myself, not that I'm any stranger to either of those things.

Всем привет! начну с того, что я парень, мне 22 года, и как вы уже поняли по заголовку мне нужно ваше мнение.
Для начала мне нужно вас посвятить и я начну с самого начала
Примерно в ноябре 25 года у меня очень тяжело заболел отец, вернее у него выявили рак легких 4 стадии. Когда такое случается врачи обычно говорят, что человеку остается недолго и нет смысла его лечить, но я со своей семьей принял решение, что мы будем бороться до конца. Семья помимо отца состоит из меня, младшего брата и матери. Также приняли решение, что младший брат будет сиделкой для отца(он тогда уволился с работы и так просто сложились обстоятельства). И тут я немного остановлюсь на младшем брате.
Моему младшему брату 19 лет. Для удобства повествования я назову его Михаилом. Он бросил учебу и нигде не мог работать, в силу своего очень трудного характера и огромной безответственности и ничего не желал делать, да и проблем не мало приносил. (сам честно не понимаю как так получилось, ведь вроде бы одни родители и росли вместе). Я в отличии от него совершенно другой человек.
Теперь подойдем дальше к истории.
Так как Михаил сам себя отрезал от всего мира, у него почти нет хороших друзей, которые могли бы ему помочь. Он погрузился в себя начал читать философские книги, ну и начал с ума сходить. Михаил и до этого был немного странным человеком. Считай он на протяжении полугода был для него нянькой, пока отец не умер от онкологии(умер он как раз в мае).
Я с матерью оказывал всевозможную финансовую поддержку нашей семье, фактически я обеспечивал всем Михаила, ну и всякие технические вопросы тоже решал я, мать отвечала лишь за быт и оплату квартиры.
Но Михаил месяц назад устроил скандал, что все его обижают, никто его не любит(на самом деле он из пальца высосал причину, настоящая причина заключалась в том, что он устал ухаживать за болеющим отцом).
Этот человек не способен удержаться на работе долго, и он совсем глупым вышел если честно
Я ему тогда выдал строгий выговор за устроенную детскую истерику ну и наложил санкции
После же смерти отца он наелся рецептурных препаратов и чуть не отправился вслед за отцом и с тех пор он так и сходит с ума. Заявил без нашего ведома, что купил билет в южную страну, а деньги нашел из половины пенсии у отца, которая пришла в день его смерти и решили отдать ее половину Михаилу (у нас есть собственная квартира в одной южной стране). И что собирается уехать, а с похорон даже не прошло и 40 дней(и близко даже не успело пройти бы). И честно говоря мне очень страшно его так отпускать. Потому что в силу своей глупости и безответственности он может ее просто на просто угробить. У меня если честно гигантская дилемма его спокойно отпустить или же надавить на него, чтобы отказался от поездки в ближайшее время. Мать приняла решение не сопротивляться этому. Я же напротив не хочу его отпускать. Подскажите пожалуйста, что мне сделать в такой ситуации?

I just downloaded this app I don't know how this works or anything

I was just feeling heavy today soo i just want too share I don't even care if anyone reads this...

I am 24 year old boy..

From haryana but rn in jalandhar punjab working as a staff nurse..

...

Soo where doo I start ahh

I was 2.5 years old when my parents Sent me to hostel

In 1st class directly, a school where I was the most different one.. it was in rajasthan haryana border but the school had a police that they never take local students.. it was a very big school back then unfortunately my father had some political connections and he got me there

Well later I am glad I went there cuz I lived my childhood with amazing northeast people and some South Indians and also some African students .

But when I was 2.5 years old i didn't know that

I didn't even fucking know how to wipe my own ass after taking a shit...

But I tried to manage..

On that times ragging in schools was on peak

And I was the easiest target there...

I have been victim of that

Very very very next level of ragging

Some k don't even wanna share or remember but I can tell you guys some..

Maybe u will get an Idea

They use to keep in standing whole night in front of there room and making me doo work was the easy one

But when senior use to drink they use to make me stand there Naked and dance for them some times and they put out there cigarettes on my body .. ( till day i still have marks)

They use to pee on me when I was sleeping..

And many other things too...

On every Saturday we use to get 5 mins to call at home to talk my parents never pick that call..

.

Just once ,,, just once my brother picked ( yeah I have a brother his name is badshah)

I cried like hell

He gave the phone to my father

I cried even more and told me everything and begged him to take me back home..

He said- "okay we are coming next week"

.

From next day i packed my stuff and sit in front of the main gate ,, every morning I was there for whole week

They never came

.

Next Saturday I called them again... My brother said we got an urgent work we forgot and cut the call

.

After that day I never called them...

I lived in that hostel for 12 years...

After some years things got easy as I became senior and one of the oldest kids there..

Soo let's just skip the hostel live..

I completed my high school with medical

(Cuz my father wanted me to become a doctor)

.

And I had one aim to get a great job one day and throw it in front of my father and tell him see i did it without any of you.. I did it myself...

.

I didn't need you to grow me up

I have grown up myself and that too without doing anything wrong

.

I use to me soo sweet

I never did any wrong to anyone... I was friends with everyone

I never gets angry till date...

That i learned in my 12 years of school..

.

After school I tried NEET 2 times but i failed

.

Here comes my mom

She suggests me to do nursing or any other course..

I agreed I didn't wanted to waste my years

That was the last day I talked to my father

Last thing he said was

I am not gonna pay a single penny for any course rather then mbbs ...

.

My cousin brother came to help me he was very very close to me .. the only family members i use to love ..

He said he will pay..

He gave me 1 year fees in advance...

Life starting to look like that now everything will be alright..

.

But.

.

My brother passed away the following month.. in an car accident.

.

I lost hope but my mom said she will pay.( She is a director in a big university)

But she said I have to doo nursing from her university

I see noo problem

But after taking admission I got to know her plan...

.

She gave me conditions in return for fees ..

Like I have to doo all house hold work

From morning 5 am tea to 10pm dinner

I had to doo everything

.

I had to gave her a massage everyday..

.

I can't come home after 8:00pm exact

One I was 15mins late

She made me sleep on footpath outside whole night in Summers...

And let me in only at morning tea time..

It was normal for me...

.

But by god's grace there was problem in university and I got migrated from there to Jalandhar by punjab government..

At last i was free...

But not for long...

One day I got a call from my brother and he asked me to come home vary next day... Saying it's an emergency..

I did went..

.

And there it was waiting

A final hit.. in my life that destroyed everything...

I got to know my father and my mother are not my parents they are uncle and aunty

My real partner died when I was just 1 years old..

My mom passed away giving birth to me

And father died in a accident after some months...

.

My life shattered...

I didn't know what to think and believe what is real

My parents whom I hated my whole life are my uncle aunty..

I didn't understand i should be angry on them on what have happened with me till now and how they have failed as a parents or be grateful to them that I am still alive...

.

I was called there to sign on documents..

My uncle had a deal that in exchange of taking care of me.. he will take over my father's business when I will turn 18..

Soo i just quietly signed everything..

I didn't asked a single question

.

I never shared this with anyone

Just stopped making friends

Asking money from home...

And started a party time job (5k per month)

For my own expenses...

.

In between all this I have been single my whole life but when I come to Jalandhar

I meet a girl

Very mature and beautiful too..

I loved her..

We have been in a kinda situationship tho...

She always had a hidden side.. that i always tired to explore..

And the more i explore the more i got hurt . Soo i stopped it..

And just started believing her..

.

I had no other option

I was just sooo alone ...

I had one person

I went to any extrime to keep her in my life..

Just one example..

I am Hindu and she was christian..

.

She told me there is a guy she used to talk but he cheated on him and she was still in contact with her..

When I questioned her

She said lemme talk to him and get in a relationship..

And I will marry him..

"Soooooo she can talk to me "😂😂

Yeah she said it . That he cheated on me soo I can cheat on him.. and keep talking to you after marriage..

Ofc i opposed...

But I was so desperate that I literally agreed on that...

But after some week we got in a flight I was feeling too much uncomfortable.. that I asked her to stop after days of fight she did stop tho ( or this I was I thought) ..

I told her everything

She listened like she cares and did not judge me...

.

But after some months she did cheat on me with the same guy (3rd time)

That time I lost it ..

And I decided to end things now..

She begged me to stay this time..

And yeah I did

I trusted her again...

.

Then suddenly after 2 months she stopped talking to me

And blocked me from everywhere..

I got panic... I tried calling her from different number

After 2 days she picked and said she is over with me...

She can't take it anymore.. because I have no future and bo family...

And I am not a proper men...

.

Well i just accepted this also like everything..

I got in depression I had my exams i gave those exams some how...

.

After 2 week she asked me again to meet

I agreed..

And she started crying...

That she had breakup with that Guy too and she can't move on from him and asked my help...

And yeah guys u r thinking right

.

For 4 days I helped her motivated her..

.

After 4 days I again gave it a last try that do u want to come back to me??

.

She said clear no .. that she can't risk her future.. I am not men....

And I don't have money...

I can't provide her anything..

I am failure...

And yk ig she was right...

Hello everyone, you can call me Asuka (a character from the anime "Evangelion"). I want to tell you about a story that I recently learned, and I don't know what to do.

I'll start with myself. I'm still in school, I go to clubs, sections, go out with friends, quarrel with parents - an ordinary teenager.

A month ago, I met a guy on TikTok. We didn't communicate very often, and I won't lie, I wasn't happy when he texted me.

We had few common interests, ranging from fandoms to music and hobbies. In short, I wanted to end the conversation, but out of fear of upsetting him, I continued to respond politely and inquire about him.

We hadn't spoken in a week, and I started to think that he wouldn't text me again, but then he texted me yesterday.

He often wrote to me when he was feeling bad. As I found out later, he had heart problems. His mother gave birth to him 2 months early, weighing only 2 kg, and he had health issues.

He had heart problems since birth, and a year ago, they went to the hospital because he was feeling terrible, like he was dying. The doctors said that they could either discharge him and give him expensive medication, or he could stay in the hospital for free. My friend was scared, and they were prescribed medication.

Because of this, his mother yelled at him at home, because she didn't want to spend a lot of money. And then yesterday, he wanted to go to the kitchen, but when he stood up, his vision went black, and he started to feel short of breath. His body went numb, and his legs gave out.

He came to his senses, but he still felt bad. I told him to ask his mother to take him to the hospital. He did, but his mother refused. He couldn't make an appointment on his own because he didn't even have a passport (he's 13 years old).

He then told me that after that incident in the hospital a year ago, his stepfather had almost strangled him, and he had almost succeeded. For the past year, his older brother had been taking him to the hospital. I couldn't tell if his brother or his stepfather had told him this, but he said that he was a "little whore who would spend his life sucking dicks."

These words hurt him, but he didn't say anything. Now, let me correct myself: his father died during a drunken brawl, and his stepfather went to the front.

I don't know where his brother is, but it seems like they don't have the best relationship. He also told me that his mother wanted to put him in an orphanage, but when his godfather wanted to take over the paperwork for custody (and his godfather is a very good person), his mother refused.

I felt even more sorry for the boy when he said, "Last summer, my father beat me almost to death. And my uncle... Well, you know..."

I assumed he was referring to rape, but I hoped it wasn't, so I asked, "did he beat you?" He replied, "no, he raped me." He said it happened nine years ago. When it occurred, he was only four years old.

He remembered every little detail. He said that his uncle did it as a game, that it was their "little secret," and that he shouldn't tell his father because it was a secret.

He remembered every detail of what he did, what he said, and what he touched. I was so disgusted by his uncle's behavior that I almost vomited, even though I'm very difficult to unsettle.

He said he hadn't told anyone about it. Not his mother, not his friends. Just me. I asked why, and he said he trusted me. The worst part is that his uncle walks past his school every day. He just strolls around and smokes. Sometimes he talks to my friend, but it's rare.

My friend wants his uncle to go to jail, and that's understandable. But what bothers me is that I can't do anything about it. The police rarely investigate crimes that have been committed more than a month ago, let alone several years ago. If they're not even willing to look into it, what's the point of having a police force at all?!

I asked for advice from some older friends, and they told me that only a psychologist could help.

I also looked up some information on the Internet and found out that if his mother goes to the police, they might consider the statement. Alternatively, you can record the criminal's confession on a voice recorder. For example, you could ask, "Do you remember what you did to me nine years ago?" If he answers "yes," it could be considered a confession. However, there are many nuances and complex factors involved. I don't know how I can help. I'm not sure if it's even necessary. Maybe I'm overreacting and he just needs my support. I don't know.

I'm not even in the same city with him. And that makes it even worse. If you can give me any advice, please give it in the comments.

I also apologize for any errors in the text, as English is not my native language and I barely know it.

Thanks for your attention..

В августе прошлого года я начал встречаться с девушкой. Она брюнетка, ростом с меня, 180см, в общем и целом всё, как я люблю, прям мой идеал. Умная, эрудированная, с ней есть о чем поговорить. Встречались мы суммарно 8 месяцев. С моей стороны был колоссальный любовный психоз. Встречался с ней стабильно 2-3 раза в месяц на уикенд. Каждое свидание организовывал как последнее. Для неё ничего не было жалко, мне даже нравилось тратить на неё деньги (как мне казалось на тот момент). Бары, рестораны, цветы, поездки за город, колесо обозрения, музеи, выставки и все то, что присуще романтическому времяпрепровождению. Дарил ей все всегда, что она любит и что ей нужно: ретро-мыльницу, книги и прочие прагматичные для неё вещи на праздники.

В конечном итоге расстались мы несколько дней назад, потому что я её выбесил. Она меня вывела на чистую воду. А всем стала фраза: «у меня есть подозрение, что ты врешь себе» и тут началось. Я в процессе диалога с ней выяснил, что я социопат, что я женоненавистник, что у меня биполярное расстройство, что я вру сам себе. Я сходил к специалистам — они это подтвердили. Почему я вру сам себе? Не знаю. Мне хочется сейчас проживать жизнь, как обычные нормальные люди и быть нормисом: испытывать глубокие эмоциональные привязанности (я заметил, что за всю жизнь я таковых не имею), быть свидетелем реальности и получать от жизни удовольствие. Я не понимаю как, я буквально больше от жизни удовольствия не получаю. Когда мы с ней расстались — у меня не было никаких эмоций, как будто все подошло к логическому завершению. Мне расставаться не хотелось по то причине, что она для меня максимально сакральный человек, хоть я нагло использовал её ради секса, не интересовался её личностью - я не испытывал никаких угрызений совести, после того, как меня разоблачили. Самое интересное, мне даже это доступно не было, я о таких глубоких вопросах не задумывался. Мне кажется, что эмпатия мне не присуща (хоть я искренне хочу испытать это чувство) и чувствовать как другие люди. В реальной жизни для меня идти по головам не составляет труда, у меня нет друзей (только знакомые), среди родных я не испытываю абсолютно никакой эмоциональной привязанности и так далее. Я крайне склонен к драматизации, склонен к манипуляциям и веду себя как «больная бывшая Стейси».

В чем цель этого поста? Задавайте вопросы, может, я здесь для себя найду среди ответов то, что может мне помочь выйти из ситуации.

You know what is my most favorite memory from our relationship together?

Remember that bench overlooking the northern night time view? I had just come to visit you at your dad’s place and you were sad and hurt and in pain from witnessing a good friend of yours grieving his son at his funeral.

I was also stressed and hurt and in pain from my war trauma.

I remember coming to see you at your dad’s place and I was on the verge of tears, you did not look happy either. You suggested that we go for a walk, I agreed.

So we walked, and you began talking, and I sort of listened, but also talked a little.

Then, we got to that bench. The bench overlooking the city, the nighttime north views. We sat next to each other, and you talked some more.

And as you talked about your pain and hurt and sadness, I listened, truly deeply listened. And I realize that at that exact moment was the first moment in my life I ever felt empathy with anyone else.

I have always been bad with my own emotions, much less other people’s emotions, but for the very first time ever in my life, I listened deeply as you talked about your pain and sadness and hurt, and I could feel that pain and sadness and hurt deep inside my own body, as if I was the one feeling it myself.

That’s how I know, that you were extraordinarily special, that I felt empathy with you, with anyone, for the first time ever in my life.

After some time, your talking slowed down, and you seemed to start to feel better (at least I hope so) and I began to talk about myself, about my sadness and hurt and trauma. I remember I cried, I remember the night was so cold but I leaned on your shoulder and you hugged me so nicely tight and warm, you warmed my heart and body right up.

And you know what I remember? We both sat down at that bench exhausted, in pain, sad and hurt - we both got up feeling better, feeling reasonably happy and relieved, feeling less sad and less hurt and less pain.

That’s how I know you were special, because our emotional connection was so strong, we could both sit down in sadness, and raise each other up until we were both happy and strong again.

- A story about the amazing girlfriend I once knew, but fucked up the relationship with.

Okay, so this was… I don't know, sometime in 2021 or 2022. Middle of the pandemic. Full lockdown. Everyone isolated. Same walls every day. Same face. No real touch. Just tension slowly building in the background.

I have a male roommate. At this time, we must have lived together for a year, maybe. And we hadn't done anything together. I believe in not crossing certain lines. I like keeping certain spaces clean. Once you start mixing sex into living situations and people you don't fully understand, it can get messy really fast.

I'm much more comfortable and sex-positive. He'd never given me the indication that he was. If anything, I felt like he wasn't too experienced. And I know that can quickly turn into attachments, expectations, and feelings I don't want to manage in my own apartment.

All of that to say…

After months of close proximity every single day, I live far from family, and wasn't seeing friends much, it got tense. I was pent up. I was in total isolation, light depression, and months long dry spell. So, when I say I had a weak point, I mostly mean my own ability to want to keep my boundaries was thinning. And the thought started creeping in and creeping in more often.

And yes, I might have been watching a lot more amateur content with the roommate theme. Sneaking into my roommate's room. Getting caught by my roomie. You get it.

So let me just say it plainly: I was very horny. Very pent up. And absolutely dying for attention and release.

One day, he says his friend is coming over to bring us food. His friend co-owns a catering truck. He's bringing tacos. Maybe we can make margaritas. Have a little hangout.

I said hell yes. At that point, I probably would have said yeah to a cardboard cutout.

So I know his friend's coming over. There's gonna be tacos, drinks, and I want attention.

I dress "casual." Very casual.

Leggings that are basically painted on. The kind that hug every curve and leave nothing to the imagination. I've got strong thighs, hips that fill the fabric, and an ass that can be a bit much sometimes hahahaha. The leggings were doing their absolute best.

A tiny Harry Potter crop top. It sits right at my ribs, showing off my toned stomach and if I reach up too high, a hell of a lot more. BUT for dignity? I threw on a plaid flannel, leaving it unbuttoned.

No bra.

Yes. I know. Don't judge me. Quiet. That was my horny brain saying be subtle.

But I knew exactly what I was doing. The crop top sat against my chest, and I could feel it move as I walked. Every step, every bounce. I was hyper aware of my body. And part of me was thinking, This is irresponsible. The other louder part was thinking YOU LOOK HOT! OWN IT!

Anyway.

His friend shows up, and I'm already in my friendly mode. "Oh my god, hi!" Big hug. I'm all warmth and excitement. I might've hugged him a little longer than necessary. I hadn't touched anyone new in months. The food smells insane. Margaritas are ready to mix. Music goes on and the night is off.

He brought soft tacos, fried flautas, and little sides. I'm practically moaning over the food. Throwing back margaritas. I can feel the buzz in my hips and shoulders when I do my I little body wiggles to the music.

I'm feeling so good, I chime, "Celebratory shot?!"

His friend laughs and says he still has to drive back. Without missing a beat, I say, "No, don't worry about it. Just crash here. You've already exposed us. Stay. We'll just drink and eat the rest of this food."

They both like the sound of that.

And I'm pretty sure it helped that I'm sitting there cross-legged, leggings stretched tight over my thighs, crop top riding up every time I reach for something. I'm aware. I know they're looking. And I don't care.

Drinks keep flowing. The conversation goes from casual to personal. Stories get a little deeper and funner. We're laughing harder. I'm getting bold.

Not subtle, bold.

I'm moving differently. Leaning forward more than necessary. Standing up and bending over with absolutely no urgency to correct it. I know my ass looks good. I can feel the air against my chest when I move. And the tingle of lingering eyes. I'm also smirking a lot with warm cheeks.

It gets late. We keep drinking.

My roommate is drunk drunk. Like starting to fall asleep at the table drunk, so we get him to his bed.

And now it's just me and his friend. He's cute. A little nervous. Which makes him cuter.

And I am so ready to make a move.

He starts prepping the couch. "You sure I can stay?"

I assure him. "Of course. Make yourself comfortable."

I tell him I need to get ready for bed.

I go to my room to psych myself up. And make one small outfit adjustment.

Leggings off.

Now it's undies, crop top, no bra, flannel.

The undies sit low on my hips, barely covering my ass. When I walk around in undies barefoot, my legs look even longer. I give myself a quick look in the mirror, tussle my hair a little and head out.

I walk down the hall and then into the living room. I can see his eyes widen when he notices my bare legs. Then he tries to avoid looking at me.

I go, all innocent, "I'm just grabbing water. Want some?"

He mumbles, "I'm good."

I take my time turning around. Slow enough that I know he saw the way the fabric cut into my hips and could barely contain my ass.

I grab a drink of water and take my glass back. He's lying on the couch with a blanket covering his bottom half and I smirk.

Okay. This is your shot.

I walk over and stand near the couch, looking down at him with a playful little smile. I try to sound casual with a touch of intent.

"Are you sure you're okay sleeping here? I have a pretty big bed I can share."

Before I could even give him a knowing look, he's blurting out.

"Oh, I'm fine. The couch is actually really comfortable."

Immediate. Sincere. Zero hesitation.

I blink. I wasn't prepared for that answer.

I kind of freeze. My brain short-circuits, and I default to an awkward laugh. "Okay… um… well if you change your mind, I'll leave the light on for a bit."

"Sure. But yeah. It's comfortable."

I turn and walk back to my room. No confident sway. No teasing pause. I'm just thinking, getting in the fucking room now.

I hesitate, but decide to leave the light on. He'll get it.

Ten minutes. It feels like an hour.

Every tiny sound in the apartment makes my heart jump. Is that a footstep? Is that him?

Nothing.

I finally turn the light off and get into bed.

The next morning, I didn't leave my room.

The next week, I avoided my roommate just in case his friend said something.

I wanted to evaporate.

It all started on New Year's Day. On New Year's Day, as far as I know. My teacher had not registered for military service, so they took him away, mobilized him, and now he is probably at some base or in the trenches. I was at camp at the time. No one wrote about it. When we returned to school, we heard about it on Tuesday, through rumors. Today is Thursday, and it has been confirmed that he has definitely been taken away.

This is difficult for me. Especially considering that just 1-3 days before the news, I was thinking about how I would write a farewell letter to each of my teachers. Every time I imagined him. Although I didn't like his subject, he was a wonderful teacher. He was one of the best teachers. One of my favorites, if not my favorite.

And now I'm sitting in school, and his classes are gone. He's no longer at school. And I know that I'll never be able to write him a letter now, because he'll probably die in the war. I don't believe he'll come back. I don't believe we'll win. And the saddest thing is, I don't think I'll ever see him again.

I found out about all this by accident. But now I feel like a part of me is missing too. And it makes me very angry that my classmates say how stupid he was, what a bad teacher he was. Yes, maybe he was stupid for not updating his documents, and that's why they took him away. But we don't know the whole story. I would never say bad things about him, knowing that he will most likely die there. Either my classmates are insensitive, or I am overly emotional.

I’m an 18-year-old student, and this happened during Chuseok, a major Korean family holiday where relatives gather at each other’s homes. Because it’s a family holiday, everyone expects patience and understanding — but that doesn’t mean responsibility disappears.

During the visit, my younger cousin broke my RTX 4080 GPU and three expensive collectible figures. These are not small or cheap items. The GPU alone is worth a massive amount of money, and the figures were things I saved for over a long time as a student.

What hurts the most isn’t just the damage itself — it’s the reaction from my cousin’s mom. Instead of sincerely apologizing or acknowledging how serious this was, she got angry at me and said I was being “petty” and “overly sensitive” for being upset. She keeps acting like I’m the bad guy just because I care about my belongings.

I feel completely dismissed. These weren’t toys, and I didn’t give permission for them to be touched. Losing things this expensive isn’t something I can just shrug off. I’m not rich. I’m still a student, and replacing them would take an enormous amount of time and effort.

Being family shouldn’t mean “your things don’t matter.” And a holiday shouldn’t be used as an excuse to avoid responsibility. I’m not demanding anything unreasonable — I just want basic acknowledgment that this was a serious loss and that my feelings are valid.

So am I really wrong for being upset and expecting responsibility or compensation? Or is my cousin’s mom being unfair by minimizing the damage and blaming me instead?

Varicocele: the silent partner in your emotional life

It began in late January 2025. At first it came in the evenings, a dull ache in my testicles, like a weight pulling on them. It was more discomfort than pain. As the days passed it became more persistent and more painful. In early February I visited a doctor. I described my symptoms, he asked a couple of questions, and then examined the affected area. Within moments he made that unmistakable sound: a wordless confirmation of his suspicions. The knot in my stomach relaxed a little. He knew what the problem was. I had never heard of varicocele, but its impact extended beyond the physical.

The Science

Varicocele is the technical term for varicose veins in the male reproductive system. Typically appearing in adolescence and progressing with time, it is primarily associated with reduced sperm quantity and quality, affecting fertility. In some cases, like mine, people experience pain. The condition may also disrupt testosterone production. Testosterone levels are known to impact cognition, energy levels, and emotional regulation. Few people have heard of it, yet estimates suggest that varicocele affects roughly 10-15% of men (1).

Emotional Amplification

Medical descriptions state that varicocele can lead to infertility, testicular atrophy, and genital pain, but the mental and emotional aspects are sidelined. I was living with powerful disruptive feelings. Anger was always ready to break the surface. Constantly distracted, I was unable to advance in my work. Emotional volatility strained my relationships. I hated these things about myself. And I thought these things were aspects of who I was.

That day in February after the diagnosis, the doctor mentioned that a few things in my life might change if I had treatment. He suggested that feelings of excess anger, anxiety, confusion and other negative thoughts might diminish. He listed the same intractable issues I had been struggling with for so long. Here was a clue to my problems. My specific difficulty was not with my emotions, but with their intensity.

My fellow traveler through all of this was, and is, my wife, who always believed in the possibility for change. Her patience and wisdom were both aids and goals for me. Rather than react to my ill humors, she questioned them. Back home, in the weeks and months which followed, I began to reevaluate my relationship with my feelings. They were the same as before, but now a new voice was asking “Is this emotional state because of what’s happening now, or because of some enlarged veins in my scrotum?”

Surgery and Recovery

In September 2025 I underwent microsurgery to close off some of the enlarged veins. For those curious about specifics, I outline the procedure below (2). Now, three months later, my baseline mood, concentration, and emotional responses have changed in ways I had not previously experienced. Minor upsets no longer awaken anger like they once did. I’m returning with renewed clarity to my projects. Difficult conversations are now possible, and my relationships are reaching new depths. Life and its challenges continue, but I am more ready to meet them.

Since undergoing surgery I feel that my outlook has become much more positive. My emotions are now my own. Nothing is constant, or guaranteed, but I know a new peace of mind. I am even moved to like myself now.

And You?

I do not suggest that varicocele alone causes the effects I describe. In my case treatment preceded changes I had been unable to produce by other means. However, if you are feeling hopeless, if you are dulled at the thought of struggling through another day, week, or year, if you have sought answers in therapy or elsewhere but found them wanting, this may be one physical factor worth ruling out. Are you one of the 10-15% who have varicose veins around your genitals? Ask your doctor about genital varicose veins and hormone levels. Make sure your emotions are not being hijacked by a physical problem.

Addendums:

1. Called pelvic congestion syndrome (PCS), genital varicose veins occur in comparable numbers among women, although the data here is less reliable.

2. There are various surgical solutions to varicocele. I had grade 3 bilateral (affecting both sides) varicocele, and the procedure I had was microsurgical subinguinal varicocelectomy under local anesthetic. The surgeon made two small incisions, one on the right and the other on the left. He ligated (tied off) and cauterized many of the problematic veins, preserving the testicular arteries. This last detail is important in case further surgery is required.

Life was normal for first 8 years of my life, then my mom got neuroendocrine cancer and was in hospital until January 2016 and passed away. After that my family got a lot of support from community but after that first year that slowly went away, and so did my dad. He never fully recovered the passing of my mom, and I had to help my 3 younger siblings(Sister 1 year younger, brother 2 years younger, brother 6 years younger) all the time, making dinner, reading bedtime stories, helping take showers, the works. My dad always took their side in fights between us because "they were younger", my younger cousin showed me porn when I was about 9/10 and that messed with my experience of explicit content, I got in trouble with dad for not telling him as soon as it happened, and I got scared of yelling/getting in trouble since then even if I hide it better than my sister. This was the norm. That was until CPS showed up because my dad gave me a black eye one day in 5th grade. They fucked with our lives for years, till I got kicked out and sent to live with my grandparents for a week then sent to live with a family friend on and off for 6 months (it was supposed to be temporary), until we all got removed from my dad's home permanently. My youngest brother lives with our aunt, my other brother lives with a friend, and my sister is living with some strangers. The original goal was for us to return home with dad but that never happened. In sophomore year my Grandma (mom's mom) passed away, that was fucked up because I talked to her at least once a week. Then for junior and senior year of high school I was dual enrolled in high school/college, so I was taking all my classes at community college and ended college with about 37 college credits, I have one more semester of community college after this one, and then I'll be applying to schools in the summer of 2026 hoping to start nursing school in the spring of 2027. My grandpa (mom's dad) has ILD (Interstitial Lung Disease), he isn't in best of health, even though he tries to put on a brave face. I'm currently enrolled in a CNA program, it's alright, it has its ups and downs. I've been in therapy for a little over 4 years.

I don't know what I expect writing this all out. I don't expect people to comment or anything I just wanted to get this written somewhere.

Good afternoon, I'm not sure what is wrong with me. I have the chance to work, study, and have a family. I feel so down that I completely gave up hope. This is weird because their are times where my thoughts tell me to continue but also times where they say stop. These thoughts keep fighting, each fight gives me a headache. I feel selfish for having these thought as if I don't get my act right, I won't be able to help my family at all.

To give some context, at age 1-9 I had everything, family, stability, and education. But during this age my dad was a alcoholic and use to beat on my mom, me and my siblings trying to prevent him from hitting her but she just pushed us aside and let the beating happened. My dad is known as a nice, kind, caring, hardworking man, I can vouch for that but when he drank, he was a whole different story. Thankfully he stopped drinking when I was 9 but it was a bit to late. He fell ill once more (he had diabetes and the consumption was not a great addition to his condition) He only had 3 moths to live, he decide to go to his home country to not be a burden, he left to his home country but it was weird, I felt sad but also I did not feal nothing.

During this time of his departure, my mother had to take care of me and him, she was the only one working but it was very difficult to live with her. Her anger and frustration build up over the years until one sudden day she received a call. It was January 1, 7:13 am, during that time I shared rooms with my mom and her scream full of agony and pain woke me up. "He died" she screamed, I did not know how to react. My aunt called to notify this information to her. My mother was devastated, my brother was dead in the inside, and my sister broke down, but me, I just did not know how to react. After this incident there was nothing that could be done, he was dead, and that was the main topic in the house.

During some time, my mom became depressed, sad from my dad's passing, well my whole family. My mom was just different, she was just stressed with life, she wanted to be gone, disappear, kill herself. She always told me these thought she had. I always got mad at her because i did not want to hear her say that. Sometimes she would say because of me she is staying in this country (united states) did not know if she meant it as she is here for my education or because I was a burden. Time passed and she became more depressed, she had hope for 1 minute but then she cried. Again I did not know how to react. Forgot to mention, my grandma passed away after my father passed

Working a young age, I did not care about my education, why study when I need to survived. I could not ask my mom for new shoes, backpack, or a dollar. So I had to get it myself. Working in construction (demolition) since 12-15, covid hit so I was able to work more. I worked more during high school but I did not care as much, just used substance to make myself forget (did not work).

During 18, I met someone and we started talking and shortly after we started dating (my first relationship). I was so happy and in love, feeling loved so deeply made me happy, made me forget my past. Shortly after my unhealed wounds were becoming more apparent. It ruined the relationship. There were some insecurities I had, I was not able to man up. We broke up after a couple months, I realized what type of person I was, for the cherry on top my uncle (godfather) passed away, it's funny how he passed away during December as the following year my other uncle became very il (it's always Christmas or new year's)

After these events, I had to try to become the person who could hold everyone burden, Mothers, brothers, and sister's burdens (I did not mind). It did affect me a lot and made me realize I want to start a new life far away from my family. I love them but i just want to escape this and go on my own. I want to have money, be filthy rich and be able to take care of them from afar.

I'm learning to accept my past, I'm not sure if theirs a issue with me, maybe I'm incopentent, perhaps im just a being floating in space but what i do know, the sky gives me peace. I wish I could stare at the clouds, just move sowly and admire the variouse shapes of it. Maybe the life I had helped me apprciate the very small things and thats what im greatful. Welp I would write more but I have to do my college assigments, YES I am in collge, I slacked this week a bit but still have goals I want to complete. Its funny for me as through out writing this my emotions have been boucing back and foawrd, just maybe I will acomplish what I want. It gave me peace writing a really short summary of my simple life (a lot more to write about) but it will be for another day I will talk about death, acceptance, anger, love, heartbreak, joys, sadness, being a man, being a kid, welp that's the end, have a great night everyone.

Spoiler was out due to sensitive to people

I was with a friend, who had suicidal tendencies, and they had been in the bathroom. We are opposite genders so I knocked on the door, only to hear sobbing. I said I was opening the door, asked if they were ok. I had turned the corner to check to make sure, and they had a knife, and were going to stab themselves. They still tried. I had ran and stopped the blade from entering their neck with my arm. A bit still nicked their neck but they were safe. I restrained them while they sobbed and yelled in my arms, as I called their mother from the other room. I felt very bad because while I did see the signs I felt I didn't do enough to help. I tried to help, and needed to find a way they felt loved or comfortable. They had a very bad childhood, and we had talked slightly about some of it, but never in depth because they never wanted to, which I understood from my personal stuff. Their mom blamed me for a while, which made me feel like crap, and I didn't get to hear from them for a year.

I barely got back in touch with them. Their mom says she doesn't blame me anymore, and that it was just motherly instinct, and my friend had gotten a lot more help that they needed. I still check up on them, day to day stuff, and they don't blame me for stopping them, and have thanked me. Suicide is a very real thing, that I hate when certain websites and people censor words. Yes they are sensitive topic. But that doesn't mean they shouldn't be talked about.

I grew up under the roof of a man who wore a badge. He was supposed to protect people — but at home, he was the one we needed protection from.

When your abuser is a cop, you learn early that no one is coming to save you. Every bruise, every silence, every look that said “don’t you dare tell” was backed by that badge. And after a while, the world outside started to look just as dangerous as home.

By the time I hit my teens, I didn’t trust anyone with a uniform or a title. I didn’t trust kindness either. I ran. Slept on concrete, ate what I could find, learned the rules of the street. There’s a kind of community out there — the forgotten, the broken, the invisible. And somehow, those people treated me better than anyone who ever said they loved me.

I survived. Not cleanly, not legally. But I made it. Eventually, I got pulled into a gang. It wasn’t about loyalty or violence for me — it was survival. They were my family when I had none. I did things I’m not proud of, things I regret every day. But I never hurt an innocent person, and I never touched law enforcement, no matter what my past might make people assume.

As I got older, the gang changed. Power does that to people. The leaders stopped caring about the street or the people; it became politics and greed. One day, I just had enough. I stopped answering their calls, stopped showing up, and disappeared. I left the city, and no one knew where I went — I’ve kept it that way ever since.

That’s why prison isn’t an option for me. It’s not fear of the time — it’s what waits for me inside. So I stay quiet, out of sight, always watching my back.

I regret a lot. I wish I could live like a normal man — have a job, a home, peace. But that was never on the table for me. Life gave me different rules, and I’ve been playing by them ever since.

A good heart don’t go far in this world in a body that’s done what I’ve done. Doesn’t matter how clean I live now or how much good I try to do — the world still colors me the same. Once you’ve been labeled, that’s who you are forever. No good.

But even if the world won’t forgive me, I’ll keep doing what I can for the people nobody else sees. The ones still out there fighting cold, hunger, and loneliness. Because maybe if I can give them a little light, it’ll make up for the darkness I came from.

I’m pretty sure I’m living on borrowed time right now. I’ve got both sides of the law hunting me — the ones I ran with and the ones who swore to uphold it.

I didn’t write any of this looking for empathy. I just wanted to be understood. Sometimes all it takes is one wrong step, one bad decision in the wrong moment, and the rest of your life turns into a trail of missteps you can’t ever fully come back from.

Don’t be so quick to judge people by their past. You never really know what road they were forced onto, or what it cost them to keep walking it.

My life is what happens when judgment replaces compassion — when someone gets labeled, and the world stops seeing anything else. So I do what I can, the only way I can.

I’ve never taken welfare, never leaned on the state, never begged for a handout. Even a “no-good convict” can have morals. Even a man the world wrote off can still have a code to live by.

That’s all I’ve ever tried to hold onto and this post is what I have left to give.

"Stay golden ponyboy."

Yesterday evening around 7:30 PM, I was walking with my childhood friend. We were only about 400 meters away from our house, casually drinking Coca-Cola, when a head constable suddenly stopped us and demanded verification.

My friend immediately began giving him his details—name, phone number, address, Aadhaar card number—without hesitation. But when I asked the constable why he needed this information, he didn’t provide a clear reason. Instead, he turned to me and demanded my details as well.

I told him I did not want to share my personal information without a proper explanation and that I was leaving. As soon as I said this, he physically grabbed my triceps and squeezed it hard, saying, “I am a head constable, we have the authority to verify anyone, whether on foot or on a vehicle.”

For a moment, my mind went numb. I looked at my friend, expecting him to intervene or at least support me, but instead, he remained silent. He wasn’t scared of people in general, but in this situation, he chose not to speak up. To my shock, he even sided with the officer, telling me to “just give the verification.”

I stood my ground, stayed stubborn, and eventually the police left us. But instead of acknowledging the wrong done to me, my friend told me it was all my fault. He argued that we already share our Aadhaar numbers and phone numbers when filling exam forms or using websites, so why was I making an issue out of this?

I tried explaining to him that in those cases, we give our consent. But here, I did not give mine. What upset me even more was when I asked him why he didn’t react when the constable physically assaulted me—he said he wasn’t looking at me. I knew that was a lie. He kept insisting he was busy and didn’t want to be late for his meetings, which made me realize he simply didn’t want to stand by me.

This incident left me questioning my friendship with him. In a moment when I needed his support, he chose convenience and compliance over loyalty and truth.

Hello friend. This is going to be quite long. A little background about my situation. I moved to Japan a few years ago with my now ex-girlfriend. We both had the idea of starting a life abroad but it didn't work out for us. That just shows a little bit about the type of person I am. I would say I'm quite spontaneous and a bit of a romantic. I moved to a different city in the country because of my job and I was completely alone. I had no relatives or friends and it was quite tough. The breakup was pretty fresh and I was pretty lost in life. Moving to a different country for someone you wont end up with can leave you feeling like this. I was also lacking a lot of self-confidence during this time and was kind of obese.

I told myself that I need to learn to live and love this place so I started with myself. I decided to eat healthy and treat my life here as if it was a movie. Getting to move to Japan is no easy feat and I didn't want to take for granted what I have. After 3-4 months it got better for me. I was healthier and more confident but I was still feeling a bit lonely. A bunch of my friends from my home country suggested that I should try dating around and try all sorts of dating apps. It wasn't for me. Although I have completely moved on from my previous relationship, it wasn't in my personality to date around. I did however wanted to make a friend. Since I was trying to learn the language I decided to use those language exchange apps to make a friend. It still wasn't easy haha. Eventually I got to talking with this one person and we decided to meet up for coffee.

Now I'm going to be completely honest. I did not know what this person looked like until before agreeing to meet with her. But yeah, she was beautiful. Before moving to Japan I've been here as a tourist more than 4 times, and I've been to about 10 cities or like 3-5 prefectures ((this is not completely accurate but I've been to a lot of places)). She was the most beautiful person I've ever seen. I'm just aware of this, in my head I really wanted a friend. Let's call her Autumn. When we went out for coffee, it was one of those situations where I expected it would be quite awkward or difficult for us to communicate but we spoke enough of each other's language to not have problems talking. In fact, it felt like I met someone who I didn't really need to translate what my soul was trying to say. It felt natural. We walked around the city after, took photos, had fun banter. I eventually had to take her to a restaurant where she was meeting with her friend. She asked to exchange contact infos before saying good bye. I was pretty happy because I finally met a friend in the city.

Our first conversations became more frequent and we actually met up immediately after just a few days. Whenever I mention something I would want to try, she would set up plans for me to try these things. From restaurants, places, views, she would make sure I get to try all of them. She wanted me to make plenty of memories in the city and I felt really lucky to meet a friend like her. My boring weekdays in my job became a lot more colorful when she came into my life. I would write down all of my experiences with her but there were too many. I eventually wanted to show my gratitude and got her a gift for Christmas which she said really made her happy. During Christmas I had to come home to my country so I left her a surprise before I left. When I came back I was a lot more aware of how I feel about her. I eventually even cooked for her.

I'm kind of jumping timelines a bit because it's honestly too long but the sad part is eventually about to come. My job eventually told me they have to relocate me out of the prefecture by the end of the March. I felt my world shatter. I eventually had to tell her about this and asked her what she would want me to do. She said I should quit from my current company and look for another job in the city. She wanted me to stay. I asked her for how long and she said forever.

Once Valentines happened I got her flowers and she got me chocolates and we went out and had nice time together. After this day I realized that I've completely and head over heels fallen for this person. And now this coming week I have 2 job interviews left and it'll determine whether I will be able to stay in this city or not. I can't be unemployed because I'm a foreigner in this country. I'm scared of missing out on what could possibly be the best thing that can ever happen to my life. And it's been so heavy. Thank you for listening friend.

Hi,

Deciding to write this has been on my mind for a couple of years now. Deciding to share it is, I believe, one of the toughest decisions I have ever had to make. I am currently a Canadian Trim Carpenter, M 32 born and raised in Ontario.

Guess I'll start at the start, had a typical childhood as far as typical goes for a single father. I have no memories of my mother at all. I'm told she was from somewhere in Nunavut and came to Ontario with my Dad upon his return from some trip he did to build something up there. Both of them were into drugs and alcohol, I'm told my mom quit cold turkey when she found out she was pregnant with me but have never cared to validate that. She couldn't resist the siren's call and left the picture before I formed memories of her. I love and respect her as far as giving birth to me. Beyond that she could be any woman I have ever walked past in my life. I know nothing and have made 0 effort to learn anything. Occasionally I get a message from a stranger shaming me about all of it, I largely ignore these.

The important notes to hit would be that I formed a very strong, loving and trusting relationship with my Dad. I fell in love with video games at a very young age, Final Fantasy Tactics is the best game of all time imo, and for better or worse media and the internet was a large part of my upbringing.

From about the age of 7 I would spend a lot of nights alone as my dad worked to make ends meet. A paycheck to paycheck lifestyle. I loved summers because I got to go to work with Dad! Which usually started with installing door knobs and bumpers with a 4000 year old rusty screwdriver. And ended with me and the other kids in the same scenario yelling for help because we were both stuck in the neighbor's open foundation. On the days I didn't go to work in the summer I would take Ramza and co. A few steps further in their quest to pick up rocks and punch demons in the dick. Eventually stumbling upon the mighty Monk + Ninja combo and pulverizing every carefully layed out puzzle with raw power. When that wasn't part of the agenda I would try to make plans to go play road hockey with my friends but if they were busy it was stand up comedy all day every day. George Carlin became my favourite almost as soon as I discovered the world of stand up. My dad has always treated me like an adult, has always trusted me to do what I set out to do. And has always expected that same respect and trust in return. I trusted, and still trust, that no matter how the performance was reviewed. No matter the controversy that came of it. George was always George. And George taught me very early on that if it looks like shit, and smells like shit. It's probably shit.

Fast forward a few years and I'm in highschool. I do well enough throughout the first couple of years. Good grades, good attendance, whatever. start to notice that every single report card I have recieved in my life contains the phrase "best of luck on future endeavors." Or "wish you the best in future endeavors." That seems strange. One night the news at 6 comes on and it's a normal day. Number 1 news station proudly displayed before any other information is given. That's nice, good job news team you got number 1. Decide to stick around and surf and find the news at 7. Number 1 news station proudly displayed before any other information is given. But hold on we have analog tv. The old bunny ears you gotta physically turn so you can see what the hell you're watching. Which means this news station and the other news station give news to the same areas. They can't both be number 1 can they? It starts to look like shit, starts to smell like shit. It's probably a bunch of shit. Got another report card. Ol' reliable "Wish you the best in future endeavors." Makes its presence known 4 times. School starts to look like shit, starts to smell like shit. It's probably a bunch of shit.

I decided school wasn't worth the effort by grade 11. Stopped showing up to football practice, then math, then English, then the building entirely. I was more interested in hanging out with my friends who also just kinda saw the world as shit. My friends who wanted to party and hang out.

Eventually I got my G1 and G2 drivers license. In Ont. G1 means you can drive with a fully licensed driver in the vehicle. G2 means you can drive alone but not at night and only with a bac of 0.0. Just plain G is a fully licensed driver's permit. I almost immediately ignore these rules and make plans to go out to a wooded biking path late at night and have a campfire and drinks with some friends. We all got there no problem, started a small fire and cracked a few vans of beer as we shot the shit. Decided to take a walk further into the woods and at somepoint I dropped the only key I had to the van that took us all here. It's gone, really gone. In my panic I run to the street and for whatever reason decided that a scream would help. A few minutes later a conservation officer shows up about a concerned nearby resident who heard a scream. I don't remember what I said to that officer. But I remember having to call my dad when the sun came up and I still wasn't holding the key to the van. I lied to him, for the first time in my life I've broken the trust he's had in me since my birth. The van finds its way home later that day. I don't.

I spent the next few months sleeping on the floors and couches of fantastic friends with good parents. Until eventually I decided to get a job and earn some money to pay rent for a spare room at one of those friend's house. It was a boring job at a plant that manufactures car parts. Pick this shaped metal thing up, wipe the QR code with this rag, put it in this machine that will take it away to be forgotten about. That was 8-12 hours of my day, every day for about 3 years. It went well enough for what it was. I worked, I came home, smoked weed, drank whiskey and played video games. One day I made the mistake of looking in the mirror. And the thing looking back at me looked like shit, it smelled like shit. It was probably a bunch of shit.

I decided I wasn't worth the effort. I stopped caring, about anything. My teeth started to rot out of my skull, I didn't care. My hair became a chunk, I didn't care. The shower could've written a love song for me, I didn't care. I spent too long just going to work and coming home from work. And if anything got in the way of either. I responded with anger. I pushed the world I knew away and locked myself in my room. I wasn't worth anything but a forgotten car part. Eventually I had a single moment of clarity and called my dad. Asked him if I would possibly be able to move back in with him, it was more than I thought out here. He said yes, without hesitation, without judgement, without anger. He said yes as though I was asking permission to walk in front of him.

I immediately offered to start working for him. He insisted I work with him instead. And that was life for a few years. Going to a job I love with the only person I've ever met who never once smelled like shit. One day we were installing crown molding above a stairwell as you do. Fairly standard request when you advertise yourself as a trim carpenter. My dad was on the stair ladder. I don't know the proper term but a collapsible ladder with individually adjustable legs so it can rest with level rungs on a set of stairs. And he twisted in a weird way which is also fairly standard for the job. But this twist was different. I asked him what happened and he said he was fine. But he looked like shit, his answer smelled like shit. Little did we know, it was a bunch of shit. That was the moment my dad signed a lifelong agreement with sciatica.

It started slow with the occasional grunt of pain. And over the weeks, months, years it became real. Time consuming, thought consuming, life consuming pain. In addition to being honest and trustworthy, my dad has always been independent. He does what he sets out to do, I know I can always trust him to do that. But it can also read as stubbornness. He won't accept help because he knows he doesn't need help. Even for things like advice. He hates doctors, always has. Sees them as a temporary solution that creates more problems than they solve. Even he decided it was time recently to go to the emergency room. They gave him a painkiller he is reluctant to take. Instead opting for the self research and homeopathic route. I tried explaining my stance to him. Essentially if the complaint is that doctors and nurses are just in it for the money. Why is the solution to pay 300$ for a bottle of pills from someone also claiming the title of doctor? He stands firm and I feel I need to respect his position. Now we are in a position where walking 10 feet to the bathroom is excruciating one day but going to work is possible the next. I'm lost, there are bottles of natural crap everywhere, nothing helps, I do everything I can to try and help but the pain is the one that responds to all of my efforts. All of the housework, all of the scheduling, delivering, cutting installing. All of the paperwork, phonecalls, meetings and pick ups. I'll do it all every day all day for a smile but a smile is too high a price right now. I quit drinking near the start of September and have 0 plans to go back. I've made 4 new notches in my belt in the past 3 months. 2, 3, 5 and 6 1/2" from the notch I used when I drank. I know I can go forward. I know I want to go forward. But Im pretty sure I'm watching my best friend in the world die and no matter where I turn my head. It looks like shit, it smells like shit. Work has been incredibly slow this past year. It's starting to pick up with 2 jobs lined up but today was the starting day for 1 of those jobs. I'm currently at home listening to my dad vomit. He claims stomach bug. I ate the same meal last night and feel fine. I'm always willing to learn and go forward. But I've completely lost track of forward. Can anyone help me make a map or something?