Meth shards

At the ripe age of 27 finally built my first PC 14900k/4090 with Asus QD OLED monitor Is there any tips for a newbie PC player? Like should I lock frames at all? Keyboard binding options would be awesome! Any and all tips for pvp will be welcomed I’m addicted to PvP Apex is meth lmao Destiny was my first love and I want to see it through I haven’t played in 2-3 months Not grinding any weapons out before drop I don’t want to be burnt out before it drops and I have 500k glimmer with 300 Raid Banners I’m not sure what to do with 19k legendary shards I still have left

Regret
Written by me
Trigger warning: violent and graphic imagery and mature language.
She lied there in regret. The knot in the pit of her stomach clenched tightly when she turned over to see the man she had just slept with lying next to her, he was sprawled out, the thin sheet barely covering his naked, hairy body, made her even sicker to her stomach he was sporting a very obvious erection which he felt the need to fumble with while slowly making his way into full consciousness.
Must've nodded off at some point.
" Hey beautiful." his voice was a groggy rasp, his words a bit slurred. He gave a slight wink and half a smirk.
" Hey," She got up off the bed and made her way to the bathroom, she turned the faucet on and let it run for a bit before splashing cold water onto her face, hoping it would help her shake off some of this lingering daze.
For an instant she tried rationalizing all the decisions she made that led her here; ending up in this beat-up motel, with another strange man in the next room. The scent of cigarette smoke and copious amounts of bad cologne permeated the air.
Did he fucking bathe in it?
The bathroom paint was chipping off the wall, the deeply stained toilet sitting in the corner of the bathroom and the taste of rust from the faucet hung on her lips, all contributed to the knotted stomach feeling she had. She wasn't drunk, she wasn't even buzzed. At the very least he wasn't ugly. They talked for about an hour about different things; varying topics, how he swore that The Kinks were superior to The Beatles and The Stones. How there wasn't any definitive proof that Neil Armstrong ever made it to the moon and it was all an elaborate hoax. She'd have to admit that for a good portion of the night, most of what he had to say was sort of interesting, up until he had managed to throw back three 22 oz bottles of Double Deuce, from that point on everything he'd had to say was pretty much incoherent. But he owned a pretty nice car.
Oh yeah, the car no shit the car.
" You up for round two sexy? We got the rest of the night. Unless you got somewhere better to be?" He hollered from the other room eagerly.
"I think I'm gonna head over to Gary's Gas N Go, it's just across the road, I'm gonna pick myself up some cigs, I'm on my last one, you want anything?" She slipped on her leather jacket, leaning over and arching her back as she carefully slid into her tight, acid-washed jeans. She turned her head catching his eyes tracing her body from bottom to top.
" Can you get me a 16-ouncer? Worked up a thirst." He chuckled still lying on the bed naked. He was more attractive without his thick-framed glasses. Wide smile; all pearly whites, a little scruffy, with a sort of boy next door quality about him.
Could've been a better lay though.
" Sure thing Mikey," she said playfully, blowing him a kiss. She walked out the door.
"Room twenty-four." she recited to herself trying to remember the room number. She pulled out her last cigarette, lit it, took a puff, and went down the stairs toward the practically vacant parking lot.
I should quit these.
She had promised herself 2 months back she would finally quit.
Oh well. What's the point now?
She took another puff. The sky was barren, not a single star, the gravel underneath her boots made a loud crunch, each step helping to snap her out of her stubborn daze. She looked up the road for oncoming cars but there were none.
Weird.
She began crossing, contemplating her next move.
Get cigarettes, give him one last good fuck and he'd be out for good than ditch the son of a bitch.
She twirled a pair of car keys in her fingers, she had managed to slip them into her jacket pocket while he was distracted perving on her while she changed. It was easy enough.
Mike was a nice guy, she'd slept with her share of assholes, either way, it always ended the same with her feeling that same knot in the pit of her stomach. The feeling of disgust never really seemed to diminish no matter how many times she had been in this situation. But in the long run, it was worth it, it beat scrounging for bus fare on a street corner.
Begging. She hated begging. The look people gave her as they walked passed her on the streets. The judgment in their eyes.
No. Not any more or ever again.
Since the age of seventeen, she'd been on the road, having to use whatever she had to do to survive. Hitchhiking from town to town, state to state. Doing whatever she had to do to eat or to find a place to spend the night. Anything.
You'd think I'd be used to this by now.
She'd also managed to swipe his wallet, she rifled through it fishing out a pair of twenties.
Cash and a car are perfect I'll be out of this little nowhere town by early morning.
She reached the other side of the road. She made her way over to the light post near the fill-up station out front of the Gas n Go and stood there for a moment, she took a deep breath, the air was frigid, and a strong breeze was starting to pick up. She finished off her cigarette, flicked the butt, pulled her jacket in closer, and walked toward the convenience store.
She pushed the front door open, setting off the overhanging bell. She made her way to the cold drinks section in the back of the store and pulled out two 16 oz. cans.
Guess he isn't the only one who worked up a thirst.
Suddenly, she heard something. A faint noise. Softly at first but it seemed to get louder. Then it stopped and started again.
There it was again, that sound. It was moving in a rhythmic motion.
Thud...thud...thud thud
The noise was muffled and sounded wet. Like a rock being plunged into a shallow puddle repeatedly.
She turned her head toward the front counter on the other side of the store.
Thud...thud...thud thud
Her heart was racing almost in sync with the noise.
Her back straightened.
She inhaled deeply.
Walking slowly with careful steps, making her way toward it. The closer she got she began to feel the hair on the back of her neck stand.
She moved in closer.
What is that?
Something's not right
Bad something bad

Her words were shaky, she peered over the counter. "Hello? Who's there?" A chill went down her spine. She was frozen, her mouth gaping. Her heart sank.
Red
Red
Red all over
It was sprawled out all over the floor, blood everywhere, a person, a body. A body was lying there on the floor. Gushing, red mush where a head should've been.
Should be.
A figure in a tattered grey hoodie, dripping, covered in it leaning over the body.
The hooded figure lifted the cement block over its head and down with another wet thud. The mush exploded into red mist, splattering all over the counter and onto her face.
Blood
Brains all over me
Oh my god!!!!
They craned their head in her direction.

It was a man. He smiled at her. It was a twisted grin; his face was covered in blood, eyes focused, demented, possessed. He dropped the block to the floor and stood up, his head almost touching the ceiling, revealing a large hunting knife clasped in his hand.
Run
Now!!!!
She dropped both drinks, shattering as they hit the floor, and ran through the door, she was immediately hit by a wall of cold air, it knocked her off balance for a second. She fumbled to get her footing, she reached the light post. She could hear a manic, shrieking laughter through the howling wind and footsteps moving directly behind her. She turned her head back, he was coming in fast, and his laughter grew closer.
She ran as fast as her legs would let her, her heart pounding, cold sweat running down her face, her lungs were on fire, and the cold wind made it hard to catch her breath. Every inhale the cold air felt like shards of ice cutting away at her throat.
" Help Me, Someone!!!! ANYONE!!!! PLEASE!!!!" it was pointless, there was no one.
No one to help

She made it across the road and toward the motel parking lot.
The car I have the keys I can go maybe
No go to the room lock door maybe Call the cops
She ran up the stairs, stumbling on the top step, frantically reaching for the side rails to pull herself up, she made it to her her feet.
18...
19...
20...
21...
22...
23...
She reached the bedroom door and began beating at the door with her fists.
" Open up!! Open up!!! Hurry!!! Open!!!" she screamed, her voice breaking.
" Coming." she heard a muffled voice from the other side of the door.
He's not gonna open fast enough
I'm going to die
" Open Up!!" MIKE!! OPEN UP!!" she banged at the door desperately. Hot tears streamed down her cold face.
She could hear the footsteps trailing up the stairs, faster, with even more haste.
Thud thud thud thud thud thud
Was that her heartbeat or the footsteps, she couldn't differentiate anymore.
He's coming
He's gonna kill me now
I don't want to die
Please god
The door swung open, and she threw herself inside, slamming the door behind her and latching it shut. She collapsed to the carpet, heaving and sobbing hysterically.
" What the fuck is going on? " He stood there looking down at her, she sat curled up in an almost fetal-like position.
"You're gonna wake up the meth heads next door." he chuckled walking back to the bathroom. " You have seen my pants?" he asked playfully.
" We have to call the cops!" She finally managed to compose herself.
" I know convenience store's drink prices are a total rip." He snickered. Still not understanding the severity of the situation.
" I'm serious some sick fucking psycho killed the cashier at the Gas N' Go! He chased me back here!!!" she became shouting hysterically.
" What the fuck are you serious?" his tone changed, she was being serious.
She ran for the bed stand and reached for the phone. He pushed the curtains to the side and tried looking out onto the balcony.
" I don't see anyone." he tried trying to reassure her.
" Hello? Yes? I need the police! Now! Her voice was breaking, snot began running down from her nose.
At the mention of the cops, he rushed to grab his pants that were laying on the floor, as he pulled the up noticed his wallet and keys were missing.
He turned and looked at her." Where the hell are my keys?!?" sudden realization washed over him." What game are you playing?!" His voice was heavy, he scowled at her. " Where are my keys and wallet?" he walked over, heavy-footed toward her, took the phone from out of her hand, and slammed it back down on its receiver. She just sat there. She couldn't think of a thing to say. She had been caught.
" Give them to me! My keys and wallet. Now!" he walked pulled open the drawer of the nightstand and pull out a pistol. He gestured with the gun. "Had a feeling I'd need this. You thieving whore."
" Please you don't understand-" Her bottom lip quivered, she complied, and she handed over the keys and wallet, trying to stifle her sobbing.
" Please, Mike." She pleaded. "just...don't open the door." she begged, her eyes swollen with tears.
He put the keys into his pocket and slipped the wallet into his back pocket, he then proceeded to throw on his jacket, cocked the pistol, and walked toward the door. He unlocked it and turned the doorknob.
" Crazy, thieving bitch." He turned to say before pushing the room door open.
A knife pierced the right side of his face making him stumble backward. The hooded figure lunged at him swinging his knife like a maniac, landing several deep strikes. She sat there on the bed horrified, watching, helplessly. The struggle was brought to an abrupt end with the knife being plunged into Mike's neck, blood pulsating and squirting like some twisted fountain.
Dead
He's dead
I'm next
Mike lay there in a pool his blood, choking. Until he stopped moving completely. The hooded man just lay on top of him, howling with laughter, savagely stabbing away at the corpse with such glee on his face.
this sick bastard!
For a moment her fear was replaced with rage, bubbling rage.
he's loving this he's gonna kill me and laugh just like that when he's done.
No.
It was then that she noticed the gun within reach, it had fallen near the foot of the bed in the struggle. She suddenly noticed the keys were about the same parallel distance from the gun just on the other side of the room. Do I grab the gun or run for the keys? Can I make it to the car? Or should I go for the gun? Can I reach it in time? What if it's not even loaded? So many things rushed through her head. So many possible scenarios? Only two outcomes. So much could go wrong. So little could go right. But what remained was this Either I'm gonna die crying or I'm gonna die fighting.
Fight.
With that she sprung forward from the bed diving for the gun, which was met by a searing pain, as the knife plunged into her right hand, pinning it to the floor. She let off a blood-curdling scream which was then muffled by a grimy, blood-covered hand as the knife was torn from her hand and she was lifted into the air, then flung onto the bed. She cradled her injured hand close to her body, sobbing in pain. He gave her that psychotic grin. She tried using her legs to push herself further up the bed and against the bed frame could, trying to keep distance between them.
He crept onto the bed slowly, never letting go of his unsettling gaze. Until he was only inches away. Her body was trembling, she could feel his hot breath on her face, it smelled rusty like dried blood, she could taste it on her lips. His eyes were a pasty yellow, bloodshot, piercing. His lips were broken and torn, all their pigment was gone. His smile widened, showing his broken, jagged teeth. His breath got heavier and heavier. She couldn't take it anymore it felt like an eternity, and she just wanted it to end.
"Just get it over with! You have me where you want me!" she yelled at him in a sobbing scornful voice.
His arm rose into the air, knife clasped in hand, and then suddenly...
It came down, hilt tilted forward. She just stared at it in bewilderment, shifting her eyes to the knife and back at him and back again.
He leaned in close to her ear and spoke one word.
Regret.
End

Creating a "Breaking Bad" themed dinner can be a fun and unique experience. Here’s a complete menu inspired by the show, featuring dishes that playfully reference elements from the series.
Breaking Bad Themed Dinner Menu
Appetizer: "Heisenberg's Blue Chips"
Ingredients: - Blue corn tortilla chips - Salsa verde - Guacamole - Queso dip Instructions: 1. Arrange the blue corn tortilla chips on a platter. 2. Serve with salsa verde, guacamole, and queso dip on the side.
Main Course: "Pollos Hermanos Chicken"
Ingredients: - 4 chicken breasts - 1/4 cup olive oil - 1/4 cup lemon juice - 3 garlic cloves, minced - 1 tablespoon paprika - 1 teaspoon cumin - Salt and pepper to taste Instructions: 1. In a bowl, mix olive oil, lemon juice, minced garlic, paprika, cumin, salt, and pepper. 2. Marinate the chicken breasts in the mixture for at least 30 minutes. 3. Preheat the grill to medium-high heat. 4. Grill the chicken breasts for 6-7 minutes on each side, or until fully cooked. 5. Serve with a side of fries or coleslaw.
Side Dish: "Jesse's Loaded Fries"
Ingredients: - 4 large russet potatoes, cut into fries - 2 tablespoons olive oil - Salt and pepper to taste - 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese - 1/2 cup cooked and crumbled bacon - 1/2 cup sour cream - 2 green onions, chopped Instructions: 1. Preheat the oven to 425°F (220°C). 2. Toss the fries in olive oil, salt, and pepper. 3. Spread the fries on a baking sheet in a single layer. 4. Bake for 25-30 minutes, turning occasionally, until crispy and golden brown. 5. Sprinkle the fries with shredded cheese and crumbled bacon. 6. Return to the oven for 5 minutes, or until the cheese is melted. 7. Serve with a dollop of sour cream and a sprinkle of chopped green onions. Dessert: "Blue Crystal Meth Candy"
Ingredients: - 2 cups granulated sugar - 2/3 cup light corn syrup - 1/4 cup water - 1/2 teaspoon blue food coloring - 1/4 teaspoon raspberry flavoring (optional) Instructions: 1. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and lightly grease it. 2. In a medium saucepan, combine sugar, corn syrup, and water. 3. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until the sugar dissolves. 4. Stop stirring and let the mixture boil until it reaches 300°F (149°C) on a candy thermometer. 5. Remove from heat and stir in blue food coloring and raspberry flavoring, if using. 6. Pour the mixture onto the prepared baking sheet and let it cool completely. 7. Once hardened, break into shards resembling crystal meth.
Drinks: "Walter's Blue Margarita" Ingredients: - 1 1/2 oz tequila - 1 oz blue curaçao - 1 oz lime juice - Salt for rimming the glass - Ice Instructions: 1. Rim the glass with salt by rubbing a lime wedge around the edge and dipping it in salt. 2. In a shaker, combine tequila, blue curaçao, lime juice, and ice. Shake well. 3. Strain into the prepared glass over ice. 4. Garnish with a lime wheel.
Enjoy your "Breaking Bad" themed dinner! Make sure to have fun with the decorations and presentation to really capture the essence of the show.

I read somewhere that just the thought or image of doing coke/meth makes a person feel energized about that drug. If I switch my phone wallpaper to some large shards of ice/jib, will this help me have a bit more energy throughout the day? The current wallpaper and even caffeine I'm soooo tired and I don't want to actually do meth but I am tired. Thank you.

This is chapter 267

TW - child neglect & domestic violence
Hello UnsentLetters community,
I’m sharing a deeply personal unsent letter I wrote to my mother. It delves into the complexities of our relationship, the impact of her life choices, and my journey towards understanding and acceptance. This letter captures moments of both pain and tender memories, reflecting the nuanced feelings I’ve harbored over the years.
I had always vowed to guard my childhood secrets, reserved for those present in those shadows or those who earned the truth’s weight. But then, recently, I dared to ask if you remembered one of our few gentle memories, one that usually brings me a smile. Your response came swiftly, a text: “Sorry, but I don't remember that. Everybody can have false memories, which can come from dreams and other things, like that time you accused me of pushing Scott. That never happened. He would've beaten me black and blue, I can tell you that. Love you.”
Ah, that unrelated deflection, the way you swerved to evade truth, always a dance to keep me tangled in your web of revision, wearing your rose-colored glasses. But yes… I do remember Scott—a hulking shadow with a biker's build, his patched leather vest, chestnut hair flowing wildly, his beard a tangled forest of neglect. The leather was weathered and cracked, just like the walls of our home. Hey, Mom, do you also remember when he kept my first baby tooth? We had tied a string to the door to finally yank it loose. Weird and endearing… He was a teddy bear to me, but to you, nothing less than a storm.
I can still see the living room: I’m sprawled out on the red, Aztec-printed love seat. The room lit only by the flickering TV. Codename: Kids Next Door characters frozen in time as your screams with Scott drowned their voices. The morning he left, the image is seared in my mind—his large frame slipping on ice on the front walk, a crimson bloom on snow as he lay there, his hand covering the gash on his forehead. I watched, face pressed against the cold glass, a silent scream trapped in my throat, the frost forming a delicate, icy web on the other side.
Did you even notice my tears that day? You told me to stay in the house, your voice quavering, a cold command. And I wouldn’t be surprised if I accused you of pushing him, perhaps that was my child's heart trying to make sense of abandonment and fear, the only way it knew how.
You always made your choices—men, drugs—a carousel of neglect. The nights I woke up to an empty house, the sounds of your absence echoing louder than any promise. From ages four to nine, I clung to false hope, yearning for your attention. I mastered the art of solitude while you lost yourself in meth and moonlit madness. The voicemail of my mother, promising to return, became my anxiety-inducing lullaby. And those stays with grandparents, while you disappeared into jail and rehabs, are not just memories. They are shards of a broken dream, cutting anew each time I dare to remember.
Your memory, frayed and faded like the edges of an old photo, where you and I are smiling, unaware of the coming storm. When I finally confronted you, laying bare both wounds and fleeting moments of joy we shared, you looked right through me. "I don’t remember that. Everybody can have false memories, which can come from dreams and other things," you said, your tears an attempt to wash away your guilt. That was three years ago. Even in your sorrow, there was manipulation, a desperate clinging to a fabricated past. When you left, I sat alone in the silent hum of the hotel room, finding a newfound strength in my ability to acknowledge the past, embrace its lessons, and stride into the future with resilient gratitude.
My childhood, once a tapestry of fragmented joy and lurking shadows, is now a narrative I no longer fear to voice. You taught me that memories can be a malleable thing, but mine stand firm in their truth. I once thought to spare you, to keep the darkest tales hidden until you were gone. But now, I see no reason to shroud my story in silence.
I write this unsent letter, a testament to a childhood lived in the echoes of your choices. No longer a pipe dream, but a chapter I embrace in its entirety, for it has shaped the narrative of who I am. And in this acceptance, I have rediscovered my strength, my voice, my truth. This letter is but a page in a larger story, one that I am compiling into a book titled "Shadows and Light: A Daughter’s Journey of Remembrance Through Rose-Colored Glasses" —a narrative that seeks to explore the depths of memory and the resilience of a spirit once subdued.
—
Thank you for reading my letter. If you’ve ever felt compelled to write something similar or if this resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences. This community's support means a lot to me, and I believe in the power of sharing our stories to heal and connect.

Growing up as a kid I was a hardcore devoted Christian. I held a very strong faith, kept myself in line from sinning, repented a few times a day, went to church Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday nights. Full on devoted as a child, teen and until early adulthood. I did have my not so innocent moments in life but not too crazy because of my fear of hell.
I knew the stories in the Bible of how God would bring hardships to test the faith of his followers. I myself had hardships in childhood from different forms of abuse. When I spoke about sexual abuse in my family and pointed out who the abusers were I was cut off from my family and only had who was in my immediate household for what it seems now will be the rest of my life. My hypocrite family hates me all because the women in my family married pervert pedophiles that hide behind the Bible.
I learned to “forgive and forget” a narcissistic and evil form of control that these sick Christians would use against people to protect themselves so they could further abuse.
I had many hardships in life that I don’t want to go into detail about on here but I remember in particular what made me lose my faith entirely.
On my 20th birthday a coworker who had been interested in me who also went to the same church as me at one point had asked me out on a date and wanted to take me out to eat for my birthday. He was 27 and I was 19. To me at the time, going out for some grub seemed innocent to me.
He arrived to pick me up and we went driving and he made up an excuse saying that he had forgot his wallet at the house and needed to grab it. So we arrive at his house and he asked if I wanted to see this expensive dog and parrot he had bought. I didn’t think much of it and got off the car and walked into his house.
When I walked in I was met by his cousin and they grabbed me and dragged me into the room and the guy who initiated the date started to beat me up. His cousin pinned me down and I was screaming obviously. Him and his cousin bent my arms and legs and told me that if I didn’t stfu they were going to break my arms and legs, dislocate my shoulder or if I wanted my knees snapped backwards.
They started taking off my clothes and I was crying asking why they were doing this to me and I was getting punched in the face, I’m screaming and he started biting me hard everywhere. He started choking me and then I remember getting sodomized and screaming and getting the living beat out of me. I don’t know how the neighbors couldn’t hear me or why they wouldn’t call the police.
I remember when the sodomizing stopped and he grabbed a shard of meth a shoved it in my mouth and shoved the neck of a beer bottle in my throat and made me swallow it. I remember the drug being instant and feeling horrible.
What him and his cousin did to me lasted for hours and hours. I remember looking at the clock in the room. I remember seeing the sun set from the skylight, dark all night and then the sun rising in the morning. I remembered asking, “god why are you letting this happen to me?” And the guy the main perpetrator telling me to stfu and bite my face.
The guy finally stopped in the afternoon when he realized that he was late for his nephew’s soccer game and started beating me again. He told me to get dressed and he dropped me off near my house and said he was coming back for me after the game was finished.
I went to the hospital to do a rape kit and filed a police report. It took a year for the district attorney to pick it up. When the court proceedings began the perpetrators family began harassing me through social media with their own accounts with their names. I took many screenshots and forwarded them to be used in court.
His family would say things like, “God knows all. God hates liars. God hates the wicked.”
Suddenly one day two weeks before going to trial the district attorney calls me to meet with him in his office. He lets me know that despite the evidence provided he no longer finds it necessary to prosecute a possibly innocent man due to this being a possible case of “rough sex and not being able to handle the walk of shame.” Therefore he will be dismissing the case. He (the DA) told me he had a more solid and important case to deal with. (A father in my hometown beat his two year old son to death claiming that the boy was possessed by demons and that god told him to kill his son. Sadly the DA lost that case and the dad got away with murder).
I remember the adrenaline, I ran out of the district attorney’s office and ran two miles home crying. The next day I opened my Facebook of many messages from his family members harassing me saying things like, “With God all things are possible and the wicked harlot has been defeated!” “May God forgive a lying whore like you!” “God is not finished destroying you!” Bunch of sicko Bible thumping bullshit!
I remember taking screenshots and sending them to the district attorney’s email where he promptly responded with, “I’m sorry there is nothing more I can do for you. Please get help.” And sent me resources for county mental health services.
I screamed and screamed at God, “why don’t you love me!? Why would you let this happen to me!? Why did you just sit there and fucking watch!? Why did you take their side!?”
I finally snapped and lost my faith forever.
Some time later I dug up some court documents on the main perpetrator and it turns out that he has priors for sexual assault. I did some investigating on the detective who worked on mine and the prior case and it turns out that the detective IS HIS NEIGHBOR.
Despite all of the evidence, God took the rapists side…

What did they use when they re rocked the meth to wear as long as it a bigger shared i can kinda use a towel and my nail to get it off. Like it will brake apart as i wipe and ill find this weird white stuff that i can scrape or just wipe it off but when i get down to the bottom its all mixed together to small of shards and when i burn it it nasty nasty instantly will turn yellow and u can see the meth that not cut next to it melted and its way thiker in the bowls and i just want to know what they use when they rerocked it.

So, back in S28 I fell hopelessly and irrationally in love with my Palpatine Manald Heal/Myken's Ball of Hatred LoD build that essentially only shoots Electrocute and nothing else. It is fun as hell, but I never managed to push it past GR120 as it is, without a doubt, a trash/meme build.
But, though my momma tell me to keep away from my broke trailer trash meth waifu, I just keep coming back to her, and I am feeling the urge this season again.
Question is, however, can the Soul Shards make any difference to push the build up a bit? Looking especially at the Remnant of Pain shard, as the Manald Heal damage output only really spikes on crits.
Grateful for any advice from my fellow Electeocute degenerates!

THE ANTLION
The pickup skidded to a halt in front of some chain link fencing that stretched above the sickly yellow cone of lights thrown out by the head lamps. A dented and rusty "NO TRESPASSING" sign greeted them, suspended in the steel webbing like some horrific creature's prize.
"Aw hell, come on Bear, can't you drive me around the base to the apartment complex?" said Jack.
"Aw hell Jack, no I can't. I gotta get on 14 and go all the way 'round, and then through the checkpoint with the shitassed rent-a-cops trying to hassle me, when you can cut through and be home in ten minutes," said Bear in response, obviously having rehearsed this ahead of time.
Jack just stared at him for a few seconds incredulously, and with no cash to proffer. He muttered a foul word under his breath as he threw open the passenger door and stepped out into the night.
"You got a flash?" he asked, turning back around after pulling on his backpack, "Most of the exteriors are out or ripped down by savages at this point," he observed.
"You got a phone don't ya?" said Bear, who threw his pickup into gear and peeled out across the gravel, some of it flung and ringing out against the fence for a moment as the red tail lights waned into nothing on the horizon.
"Fucking dick..." Jack muttered again.
He sighed a deep breath and shook his head trying to clear some of the ten...? Eleven? beers and top shelf cannabinoids that were angrily assaulting his cortex now that he had ceased imbibing and neglected to hydrate. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the battery; about 8%.
"Fucking -dick-..." he observed once more. He pulled his jacket on and wandered over to the hole in the fence, one hole of dozens everyone knew to get in and out of the old military base. Everybody called it Flagler, though nobody even knew if that was the right name and nobody rightly cared. It closed in the 80's after the way "America Conducts Its Wars" changed.
A meth lab ran here in the "good ol' days" for awhile before everyone involved got thrown in jail or killed. Now it just sat here sprawled out along the scrubland highway like a string of broken teeth set behind rusting fence.
Jack pulled his coat closed tightly around himself and hunkered his head down within as he lowered into a crouch and slid through a neat incision in the fencing's belly to get inside. A thousand rusty teeth gnashed at his clothing as he passed, but luckily nothing found purchase. He stood on the other side and surveyed what was before him, trying to get his bearings. He was on the south edge now, and his apartment was a few blocks past the north gate a mile or so on the other side. He saw the dim lights of the city blocks winking out at him from the far side, beyond the long strands of broken down barracks housing.
He started walking. The ground was annoyingly slick with windblown gravels and lack of maintenance, his shoes crunched and skidded loudly. He kept his head on a decent swivel for any vagrants or other threats, but as far as he could tell he was the only living entity within a couple miles of this place right now. He shivered.
About halfway through his trip across the base grounds, he stood before the one interesting structure that existed; an old factory, built sometime in the 50's when the base went up. It was one of the largest in the region for awhile, pumping out bombs, bullets, and Jeep parts for decades before everything was privatized, offshored, and shut down.
Other buildings crowded around the factory, and the way became complicated in the darkness, with only two lonely lamps still throwing any light nearby, but next to useless besides. The factory building itself was strangely well lit, with a row of neat security lights on ground level wall along the bottom floor, and even a few on the roof casting down bright, safe pillars to the scraggly earth below. Jack was curious.
He threaded himself through a security gate and some maintenance sheds until he was standing in front of the large assembly building. It was a heap of dusty bricks that crept up four storeys. A loading dock with broken open garage doors was before him, but scarcely any light coming from within. He got closer to the building and surveyed the drive around to the front entrance; there looked to be some fresh tire marks in the scree.
"Oh great," he muttered to himself, probably another band of biker meth heads starting up the old family business again. He didn't see any cars or bikes around at all, and there was no movement within. Just the extra lighting outside, and a small thrumming sound from inside, a generator maybe?
He sidled up to one of the factory entrances that seemed well lit and stood in a corner of darkness for awhile, watching the entrance, watching the factory floor beyond, just watching, and listening, like a shadow on the wall. His blood began to rush through his ears, rising to an audible ka-tush... ka-tush... something about the place was keying up his nervous system.
After a few minutes observing, he slid around the entrance into the factory and halted in front of one of the lights, shaking his head in disbelief and cracking a smile. "Sheeeeeeeeeit..." he muttered to himself. There was a wooden pallet that looked like it had been dumped here fairly recently and abandoned. It was loaded with hand tools, batteries, chargers, and spools of insulated copper wire, perhaps a few hundred pounds of it or more. Now his nervous system was really peaking.
Why was this left here? It was newer... perhaps abandoned within the last six months or so, but it still had a fine layer of dust accreting on it. No finger prints, no work grime, nearly all of it still sealed up new. He wondered if perhaps the county had thrown a token sum and effort to renovate the base into the budget to appease some old army brass who had some sort of Vision for the return of America's great military tradition. Nuclear families of good fighting men busy and productive with America's business occupying the barracks again. Saluting his crusty old ass.
"Finders keepers, pops..." he muttered. He knelt down and threw his backpack on the ground, looking for whatever was most expensive for his first salvage run. There was almost an annoying amount of material here to deal with, especially without a car. You can get a car into the base, but its a pain in the ass. He was looking at at least six or seven trips, maybe more. If only Bear wasn't such a dick...
"He ain't getting half of this, not after tonight..." Jack observed into the darkness.
Before he could start throwing things into his backpack, he remembered the thrumming noise. It was louder here. Was there a genny running somewhere? How? Anything of value in the factory had been ripped out long ago. Conveyor belts, actuators, arms, feeders, drill presses and mlling machines, anything with a motor or made of cast aluminum or full of copper. The factory floor was a broken mess of splintered wood, junk iron and detritus, garbage, human filth, endless beer cans, and graffiti.
He saw a pair of doors nearby closed up with a light coming from behind them underneath. He wandered over and gingerly grabbed a handle and tried it, the door swung open easily. Inside was a long hallway that wrapped around the western side of the factory building. It was mostly featureless, but well lit from some recently installed lighting panels in the ceiling. The walls were painted pale yellow, the kind of color your eyes slipped right off of. The thrumming noise was louder within. He also noticed some copper wiring running along the baseboards of the walls.
"What the hell is going on here?" he wondered. Meth gang would have vehicles and guards. An actual renovation project would have started with fixing the fencing and establishing real lighting and security. So what was this?
He looked back out at the pallet of gear on the ground before the door, and then back within, and that strange noise. Time began to unwind as something important tried to instantiate itself in his fogged out brain. Something critical.
He went back to the pallet and pulled his phone out, trying to call Maggie. Maggie had a car, Maggie owed him $25, Maggie could get her sweet ass out here and help with this score, and he wouldn't even feel bad about giving her less than half after hitting the pawn shops and scrappers in the morning. His phone had no service, and only 6% battery now. Fuck.
He turned back to the door and stared longingly again. He probably already had a pile of goodies worth nearly a grand here... but what the hell was that machine? Was there more inside?
"Sack up, idiot," he chided himself. Walking over to the door and stepping blithely through and beginning to tromp down the hallway. He turned the corner at the end and saw another stretch before him, with more wiring running along the baseboards. The sound grew louder as well, so on he went.
He reached the end of the next stretch, the hall turning right along the north edge of the factory building. He was confused for a second as he saw a pair of doors on the north side wall as well, branching. But where did they go? Was there some annex or something on the other side? Maybe he had been going down at a slight decline and was now in a basement level. He looked back the way he came... it looked pretty level.
He pushed open one of the doors on the northern wall and peeked inside, another stretch of hall, and then a sharp turn to the left. Everything about that seemed off. He let the door shut and proceeded again along the northern hall to another turn right, and down the eastern hall to another turn right, once more. This should have been a big old circle and brought him back around, which he knew wouldn't have worked, unless there was another entrance to this... hall structure he hadn't seen while outside.
The sound of the machine whirring grew with each turn, the wiring along the floor growing more thick, sprouting more tendrils like tree roots that raced along the baseboards and sometimes up along the walls. He could slice it all out and grab hold, run back to the pallet and probably have 70, 80 pounds of copper by the time he got back. It was everywhere.
Back. Get back. He turned slowly, cautiously even and started to trace his steps back. He made one turn back, and then another, looking for the northern wall doors that perplexed him before, but they were gone now, just another stretch of hall. He moved quickly down this one and found two branches off now. A feeling of vertigo assaulted his executive function system, chilly claws of anxiety gripped for purchase in his mind. What the fuck was going on, where was he?
The machine sound that had dimmed for a moment began to rise in volume again as he crept along one of the "new" branches. He shook his head and turned around and tried to retrace his way back to the entrance, to the pallet, as he did so, he felt a wave of peristaltic resistance wash through him, and then relent with an unheard sigh.
The insistent machine sound dimmed to a hush and then resumed getting louder again as he walked back towards what he thought was the entrance, and found nothing but a large open area where three more hallways met. He braced himself against a wall and slunk down into a hunker, screwing his eyes shut tight, wondering what sort of bad trip he was on. He tried to calm his breathing and found he couldn't, he felt high on a precipice, his arms pinwheeling in the darkness, illuminated by a fork of lightning in a stormy night.
He felt that dizziness again, the vertigo, the unnatural feeling of the world re-arranging around him, like an elevator traveling at an unnatural angle and speed. When he opened his eyes the hall had changed again, subtly. At the end of the fork in front of him, he saw a figure sprawled on the floor.
It lay against the baseboards, motionless, looking like a scarecrow or a dummy abandoned. He knew that wasn't what it was. The figure lay nearly flat on the floor save for his head and shoulders being propped against the wall. It... he had been wearing a hoodie that was pulled forward, leaving his face concealed in shadows. A pair of ragged jeans and boots completed the ensemble. It lay at a stillness with the world that seemed impossible for a human to engender, because of course this person was dead.
He had to squint to see more details, it was far off down the hall, perhaps sixty feet away. The lighting leading up to its final resting place was off, and the entire tableau was wreathed in darkness. The arms were crossed and hugging to its own frame, hands concealed. The body's legs were lain out beneath it in a loose spread. Jack was frozen, taking in the scene, every detail, wanting to get closer, but daring not to move. What snapped him loose was the wire. Around the arms, around the neck of the hooded head, around the waist and legs, ankles, were coils of wiring holding the body tightly, seeming as if the wall itself were trying to swallow the figure by ensnaring it.
He felt the last fragile slip of his grip let go, the scene ripped it clean from his clawing grasp. When he tried to pull his hands to his face and felt the tug of a cord of copper wire wrapped around his wrists, he shattered inside. He let out a long scream of horror as he yanked himself free and stood, sprinting back towards where he believed the entrance would be. His body chilled and burned in undulating waves as panic struck its fangs into the base of his spine like the bite of a python. His ears were ringing in pulsing waves as his heartrate redlined, the machine noise keening at a high intensity pitch that seemed to frolic in laughter.
He sped down one hallway, then another, then another, and into a branch at full speed, shoving open a door and into another hallway. Black blossoms of unconsciousness began to bloom in his field of vision as his body reached a tremoring cacophony of dread. The last coherent thought in his mind now completely reverted to ancient, primal prey reflexes, was that something was on his heels chasing him and he did not want to be caught, could not be caught, could not be
Bear let out a muted "fuck" as his phone rang.
He had just begun to doze off in bed after a long night. It was Jack, he slid the receive button and winced at the metallic groaning that pierced through the handset until he heard Jack speaking. "Jack? What the fuck man?" he asked. Jack's voice rose and cleared a bit, "-a whole pallet of it man, shits just here for the taking, assload of copper wire, Milwaukee tools, a ton of it, get back here with your truck man, we-" his voice lost coherency, digitized, and began to drone out into a metallic warble. There was another metal screech and then the phone call dropped.
Bear was laughing to himself, near delirious with exhaustion and alcohol, "nope!" he bellowed, laughing harder at the phone, now a black shard in his hand as it went to sleep again after delivering the feverish nightmare call. "Nope! Not at all, sir! No thank you!" Bear hollered, laughing again, turning his phone completely off and pitching it into the closet before rolling over in bed to get back to sleep.

I seem to have confused okbuddychicanery with too many layers of bullshit because I figured this theory is obvious.
In the classic scene Walt confronts ganglord Tuco and seems in immediate danger until we realize he has some tricks up his sleeve and the pound of "meth" he has is really some kind of explosive - fulminated mercury. Or so he wants Tuco to think.
Walt takes the crystal off of Tuco's desk and throws it to the floor causing an explosion that blows out windows and ear drums. One thing the shockwave didn't blow was the rest of the pound of highly-unstable crystals. Why? Because it was just meth. Walt subconsciously influenced Tuco to choose the biggest, pointiest crystal that was located directly in the middle of the pack. The rest look like garbage compared to it. So Walt wasn't just lying about having fulminated mercury, he was lying about the amount of it. The pound that walt is waving around as a threat is just good-old harmless meth. Once Walt realized he was taking the pound home with him and has extra, he blurts out "you have to take two" pounds. I mean the dude's crazy, but crazy like a fox - he would have never taken enough explosive to blow himself to hell.

Do you ever see a power and wonder, what if they had done this? what if they had tried that? What if you plucked one of Crystal Clear's shards and smoked it like crack or meth? Crunched it and snorted it? What then?

Can CM please be allowed to do anything other than walk at you?
I'm fucking sick of it. 10 years ago CM would just die in backline. She'd right click you, and then Frostbite, and maybe then she'd right click you again or something, but then everything else is up to everyone else and if she fucked it up? Doesn't matter, but she's still a hero underneath it. Sort of like how Enigma has black hole AND something to take towers. A little bit of synergy.
But modern CM is about as synergistic as a slut spreading ass for cocaine. Hoe presses R and then walks at you. What the actual fuck is that? It's like the dev team were told "guys, you can't just make a hero who walks at people" and they all looked at each other and asked why not. And then every other mistake followed like the consequences for my actions returning with the shaking of the earth. No spells, no healing, no items, 200 movespeed, this mother fucker is just going to w a l k at you. Rename her from CM to fucking CATWALK.
What do you build then? Useful auras? Powerful fighting items? Fuck no. Your ass gets BoB, blink, Shard, Aghs, and BKB. Why? So you can fucking walk at people.
"Oh gee, sounds like you want CM to just suck and-" No. I just want CM to do something other than WALK. On my team. WALK. On their team. WALK. And because WALK is such a giant hit of dopamine to the highly coordinated swarm of cocaine sluts that presumably main CM they have to slap a "Fuck yo right click" armor bonus into button R in the off case the hero in question tryna fight back.
And can you ignore this? No. It's every fight. Every fight this giant Meth-ed out slut is scurrying all over the fucking screen with a giant smile on her face knowing she is not only playing her hero well, but playing her hero at literally peak performance.
Look at her spells.
Crystal Nova: Slow people so she can walk at them
Frostbite: Holding people in place so she can walk over them
Arcane Aura: Gives her mana so she can permanently slow and root you, thus more walking over people
Crystal Clone: HEE HEE moonWALK
Freezing field: Slow and freezes people in place
What a mess. How did it come to this.
Edit: Apparently Ice Frog noticed how broken she was and has been nerfing her ms for a long while now, though i think it's not enough. I've seen this idea around and i think it's genius. Turn her into a ward and rename her Cripple Maiden. The hero is balanced and get to keep the CM acronym, 2 birds 1 stone.

This isn't a request for money, either. I just wanted to say thank you one more time. I won't be drinking anymore. It's just absolutely not ok now that a baby is involved.
I left CA or maybe got kicked (unsure), so maybe I have to leave this subreddit too, now? Or I was just gonna uninstall Reddit and go inactive indefinitely. I'll remember you folks. I tried staying here at first to try paying those few people back, but I'm not working at the moment. All I can do is pay forward and do my best from now on.
I got away from the bad man who tried getting me hooked on meth. That's a whole different fucking ballpark from just drinking. He was putting it in my food and drink without me knowing. Shards in my cigarettes. His mom was in on it. They did it together. The whole family did and apparently this is "common". That's what the DV shelter associates told me. Like what the fuck. Blacking out with the TV volume on 60 isn't enough for some people out there?
Looking back at my 2023 posts, I can tell at which points it had happened. There's no way those posts were just from drinking.
I guess it was his idea of "getting me to stop drinking". No. In reality, it was his way of making sure I wouldn't leave so easily.
I couldn't have that kid near him. I was 5150'd a few weeks ago. They confirmed my pregnancy at the hospital and instead of admitting me, they showed me an ultrasound for the very first time. I was barely 5 months prego and just now at that moment getting an ultrasound. I knew in my heart she was gonna be a girl and I was right. All it took was an ultrasound and I snapped the fuck out of whatever got me put there in the first place. I couldn't stop grinning. They let me have my phone back to take pictures and a video of her moving. To send to my dad and family back home. I hadn't told them I wasn't at the hospital just to get an ultrasound. Then I gave my phone back. Realized how hungry I was. Kept asking for snacks and food. They gave me double portions of dinner since I was expecting. Let me out a few hours later and I went back to the DV shelter to start packing.
My exit date was only a few days away. That ultrasound made me abandon my plans of trying to stick around but in a different shelter "just to be closer" to the kid's father. So, 2 days after that ultrasound I called dad and told him I'm ready to come home. He got me a plane ticket that same night off his credit card. And I went home.
Grandma's excited for the baby. I think her will to live came back. She asks to feel my belly every single day, and talks to her.
I'm done drinking. Drugs. I'm happy again. I'm gonna make sure that kid never sees evil in the people she's supposed to feel the safest around.
I love you guys. And I love my family. I wish everyone the best... And maybe I won't stay away from Reddit forever. I gotta come back and show you folks what she looks like in a few months, if allowed. Unless you're grossed out by kids (I understand)
CHAIRS 🪑very excited

Source

From Hans
Dear Amy,
Sorry it's taken me this long to get back with some thoughts - I've been ill like a dog, and now I give you the way-past-midnight thoughts of a composer...
But, simply out - it can't (and it isn't) be emphasized enough that he is "One Of A Kind". DNA and spider serum. So he is the one that's different - his cross to bear is to live a life of loneliness. Isolate him. He might be charming, kind and good-looking, but still he has a responsibility to his powers (I wouldn't call it a "gift". What sort of "gift" condemns you to solitude). Isolate him. See how charming plays then.
He's only questions. No answers. The answers will bring him to a lie.
There's a girl problem. She loves him. But she will love him sooo much that it will kill her. Modern girl -"don't you try to protect me, even thou I don't have your powers and still- the whole fucking world is after me...." Modern girl thinks she understands. But it's one thing intellectualizing it, it's quite another to really feel it...
But her DNA is just as strong, she is a fully formed, capable human being with her own dreams an imagination. With her own rights.
But we expect the girl to die. We just have to push the carousel, give it an emotional nudge. Like "Harry, my blood can't safe you..." (Is that enough to turn a basically decent chap like Harry - who doesn't " Do" complicated, into a murderous beast? And are we - the scientist in me says "no"- archiving this?)
I'm way beyond writing past midnight, so bear with my rumblings:
He is isolated through his condition and moral compass. His friend are going mad. He is singular. He is Loney, and it will get so much worse.
AND UNCLE JIMMY (wots his name?!) WAS RIGHT!!! He ne'er understood, never saw it coming...
But there are two glimmers in the sky: Gwen and the young boy (Max is cooking up meth and Harry is contemplating his secretary ...or world-domination. (I'd like to know what side he'd come down on.)
But he's super lonely,too. And the shards of ice push closer into what's left of his humanity - his only fried. Peter Parker. "So peter, if I can't live, you can't love. And you know what they say...to have burned brightly, passionately - could something so profoundly noble and right be wrong? Oh, to have loved just once.... What is that old promise I gave, for her love, I'd give everything. I'd move to LONDON.
But you have no choice in the matter. Not you, with your DNA and spider- ness.
But that little boy, the on you saved - no, not MAX, but the GOOD VERSION of Max. Him you still can safe.
Peter, you are not the Icon. The Boy is. YOU MUST UNDERSTAND THIS. He lets us in to your world, identify with you. He is us at our most human.
As he stands there, in front of Tienamahn Square, frightened , but knows full well someone, somebody has to do the right thing.... He will do it. HE WILL. HE's brave beyond his years. he cares. It will kill him, but a world without heroes...? He will do it, because to him it's inconceivable not to believe. In the Good that is Spider-Man. . And he waits. Like David and Goliath. Like the boy at Tienamen square.
Spider-Man sees him from behind , lays his gloved hand on his shoulder, and explains to him that each one has what the other so desperate needs: the boy is pure, has courage and a beautiful moral comprehension. But he could never do it. back to the singular Dna...Spider-Man is the hollow man. But as he looks into the kids eyes, he sees a glimmer of his former self in him. Something well saving for. Something to safe for Gwenn. And as he gets up, he knows that he will be such in this DNA mutation forever, lonely but purposeful. He needs to unchain his Heart and let the love back in. There are people that love him. But, right now, know one seems to understand him like the little kid in his poor, Spider-Man onecy.
You can promise a whole city something and not really mean it. Buy you can't promise that to a little kid... The kid Is You. The kid has you courage, decency and heart. But you have the DNA!
Just some mad rambling 3.30 am talk, with a fever....
Forgive me
-H-

​

I have had health anxiety for 10 years now. I was going through a painful divorce with a narcissist and had already been in court for 4 years. During this helpless and stressful time, I allowed myself to get involved with someone that offered me drugs. I had tried pot in Highschool but was not a drug user. That evening, I was told we would be trying Ecstasy. My friend convinced me I had PTSD from the divorce and showed me an article on how Ecstasy can help. I was lost and went along with it. Shortly after ingesting it, I started feeling pain in my heart. With each heartbeat it felt like shards of glass were going through my bloodstream. I was sitting on the bed and grabbing my chest, tears running down my face as the pain was unbearable. I felt like I was dying.
I started to panic and asked my male friend to call 911. He refused, probably because he was scared to get in trouble for giving me drugs. I was consumed with so much fear and pain I remember falling on the floor and screaming out to God to not take me. I called 911 myself and was taken to the Hospital. I will never forget my fear and the dismissal and judgmental looks from the Medics in the ambulance and nursers at the hospital. They asked me if I had taken Meth.
I was sent home after a few hours. That is the last time I took drugs.
Following this experience, I started having panic attacks – only I didn’t know what they were. I would sit at work and start having heart palpitations and sweaty palms. I could not breathe. I thought I was dying. An ambulance was called by my coworkers. In the ER, I was told I had a panic attack. There was nothing wrong with me. I was given a consultation with a shrink and prescribed Zoloft and Klonopin. I took the meds and had Zanax (Dr. prescribed) added to the mix. My panic attacks continued. I would drive my 6-year-old to school and suddenly get dizzy – heart pounding, feeling as though my throat would close. This would happen over and over for no apparent reason or trigger. I could be at the beach. On the way to meet a girlfriend. I could be happy, there would be nothing wrong and then it would just happen.
It became so bad I had to get on unpaid medical leave for 3 months. I lost my job eventually.
I went from having a good position at a prestigious company with amazing benefits to working as a house cleaner. The panic attacks would not allow for anything too stressful or consistent that didn’t allow plenty of downtime to ‘calm down’. I was also still going through my divorce which would last 8 years in court.
After 2 years of this and not getting better I stopped all my meds, drinking, even coffee or caffeinated tea. I started reading self-help books on the topic health anxiety. I incorporated everything I had learned and saw some improvement, but I was still not 100% who I was before.
During the past 10 years, I have tried almost everything there is, incl. talk, CBT and Rapid Eye Movement therapy , running, and holistic practices.
To date, I am still suffering.
I no longer have panic attacks that sent me to the ER, but my anxiety has morphed into helpless fear around sickness and death still. I try to control it the best way I can but I still give in and see a specialist at least once a year for my delusional fears i.e I have been a runner for 7 years now and my Garmin showed my resting heart rate at 38. My friends tell me I have an athletic heart but when I saw that number, I felt heart pain shortly after and saw a cardiologist. We did 2 EKG, a 7-day heart monitor and an Echogram. The Dr. said I was fine and could engage in any activity I wanted. I still haven’t run since. Running was the one thing that for the duration of the run, made me feel good in my body – it made me feel alive, but I am too scared to do it now.
Every time I have the smallest body sensation, I immediately jump to the conclusion that I must be horribly sick and suffering and death is just around the corner. In a way this ‘fear’ has served me well over the past 10 years, I was able to stop smoking and drinking. My focus was 100% on my daughter and being the best parent I can be. But unfortunately, I also stopped going out much, socializing, it robs me of so much.
I am only living at 40% of my potential because I constantly react to my body and its ‘functions’. I am too busy ‘fearing’ . Whenever I hear about a sickness or causally scroll the internet and catch something, my mind wont let go and create some type of symptoms. The worst part is that I KNOW it’s ridiculous – I kept trackers of my ‘illnesses’, diaries …. I know my mind is tricking me. I can see a pattern that when I am under a lot of stress, my health anxiety and ‘symptoms’ spiral out of control. I understand my brain wired itself that way over the years, but I can for the life of me not figure out how to rewire it.
Has anyone here ever healed from this to the point they became a ‘normal’ human being again? Is there anything else I can try?
My ex-husband died 4 years ago and our daughter only has me. I am a good mom, but I know I could be better if health anxiety would not take so much out of me.

Think about it. With little to no help, he took down a whole meth empire. When he saw Krazy-8's glass shard, he killed him with no hesitation. And at the end of the series, he somehow got his hands on a LMG and killed the nazis and freed jesse. Walt is NOT to be messed with

Withdrawal & tapering & phycosis & polyaddict
I have been abusing benzos for around 6 years started off with 2-5mg of diazepam used to pile them up to like 60mg. Have taken RC benzos which were flubrozolam or another flu-something-pine and other strong RCs like etizolam and bromazolam. Also real Alprazolam, clonazepam and of course diazepam. I've been through opiate addiction for about 3 year whilst abusing benzos and lyrica as well. Sometimes I'd take like 1500mg of lyrica to get high and feel lively. Also used to be on 50mg or something of quetiapine but id take like 200-400mg piled up just at once for no reason.
Id take up to 600mg of codeine and 15mg Alprazolam for fun on a regular basis and even daily basis. 600mg of Dihydrocodeine aswell with all the others. Alcohol and cannabis aswell amongst the bunch. All on and off multiple times over the course of them years. I took some MDMA it looked like a 250mg pharaoh tablet at once for the first time along with a tiny bit of ketamine and probably one little shard of what I think was crystal meth or crack cocaine. I really not sure what it was but I took these combined and experienced a bad physcotic episode for around 1-2 weeks straight with serious delusions, hallucinations and paranoia. Today I still am paranoid and still hear voices its a lot better than two years ago but when I dont sleep or get very anxious my voices become worse. I've seen phyciatrists they assessed me for two years and said you went through a phycotic episode but have not got schizophrenia. First they tried to give me ariprazole and I tried it and hated it so I stopped. Ive had around 8 seizures from all the withdrawal and constant relapses. The drug abuse help prescribed me 200mg lamatrogine, which also affected me more I felt manic some days and very depressed another it felt like bipolar was being born from within me by taking this and its for epilepsy aswell I don't belive I have epilepsy but had tonic clonic seizures due to the drug misuse. So I took it on myself to taper off them and I'm at my last stages. The phyciatrist team dismissed me and said I need to get help for drug abuse. These guys specialised with schizophrenia and biploar. The only medication I've been consistent on and taken daily is 200mg sertraline and 50mg promethazine at night. I stopped going to the drug team and decided just to try this myself to taper.
Fast forward to today I'm still hearing voices I think is as a result of my benzo tapering and withdrawal? I've been off opiates nearly a month and I'm on 15mg of diazepam only just at night I'm trying to taper off slowly and 25mg of lamatrogine in the morning to eventually get to 0mg after the correct amount of days, along with the two normal meds I mentioned. All other substances I've stopped most recently around a month ago. Do you think I will hear voices for the rest of my life and should go back onto quetiapine or another anti-phycotic or will they go away once the benzos and lamatrogine are fully gone and withdrawn from? Am I experiencing these voices hallucinations because of my benzo withdrawal? I'm grateful to be alive.
I cannot sleep at night at all its frightening and causes me more psychosis and hallucinations.
Thank you for reading sorry it's a long one.