okay, i am female teen, and sometimes i have suicidal thoughts, i sometimes get bullied, and shamed. i'm raised in a Christian family, and i'm a Christian myself, i believe and know that Jesus Christ died on the cross for my sins, but i can't help but think that maybe it'd be better if i was dead so others could be happy, since they always get annoyed at me. i have a best friend, and honestly she makes my day better, when we both go to youth, i know she's a good Christian friend. I don't have a lot of friends, i go to a Christian school, and honestly most of the students in my class don't even treat me right, they interrupt me, get mad at me randomly when i just say something like, let's just say i say i tell them. "okay, RESPECTFULLY, maybe you should pray about them, that's the Christian response." when i said 'them' we were referring to a group of three boys in my class that would lets just say curse to the teacher behind their back, EXTREMELY dirty minded, and mock the teachers AND principal (who's an old lady and sacrificed their jobs to start the school), and honestly i feel like they're going on the wrong path, and i sometimes pray for them, but when the other students said they do pray for them, i told them to pray for them more.. anyways, i try and slowly move away from them because i think it's the best, since i think that they're not exactly good friends,, but the more harder i try, the more harder it is to let them go (they were my classmates since we were in kindergarten). when they act nice all of a sudden, even asking me for advice, i'm telling you... that makes my day, because they barely come to me, because i mostly come to them, and when they just ask me a question, i internally get excited. but either way, those cases are EXTREMELY rare, and i don't know what to do... every time i'm with my dad, and it's the school holidays, he'd always say that when he was younger he'd hangout with his friends, now honestly, i'm more of an inside person, but at the same time i dont' get invited to events, unless it's a family event, because i'm mostly the one that invites... i do pray that maybe the students in my class might change, and who knows maybe even me if i don't know if i'm the bad guy in this case because i know that i have my share of wrong doings, and i'm aware of that because obviously i'm not perfect.. i know i should probably get new friends, at least school friends, because the only school friends i have is either 2 guys from my class who're gamers with me, and the lower classes (my class are the current seniors in the school) because honestly the younger kids that are about a year or two younger, show me more respect than my own class does.. whenever i'm in my room and praying, i'd pray to the fact i can't breathe properly, and to the point i'm mentally breaking down, praying to God, asking Him why did He have to make me this way, i know He doesn't make mistakes, but i dont' know if i'm the problem in my friendships with others or not, i'd even beg Him to change me if i was the problem..
so if you have any advice, please share it, it would actually help, i feel like i desperately need it, because i honestly don't know what to do.

In the 19, nearly 20, years I have lived my life, I was raised a Christian by American conservatives in a middle class environment and am fortunate to experience countless memories of joy, laughter, and growth with (mostly) everybody I have met. Each memory with the people in my life holds a special place in my heart, and I will forever cherish the bond we built.
The thing is that until the end of eighth grade, I had a strange obsession with East Asia. Looking back, it was very embarrassing and I condemn my parents for enabling me to become a weeaboo (by “weeaboo”, I mean “a person who is overly obsessed with East Asian culture, especially Japanese culture, to the point that they fetishize the culture in an unhealthy way”). I was the textbook example of a weeaboo who had a terrible case of “yellow fever” (sexual preference towards East Asians). Loving the image of East Asian culture without having any real idea what it stood for and seeing the East as a utopia, my fetishization of East Asia, especially Japan, was born out of the shame I have with the Western culture I was raised in. I never felt like I could fit in with my Western peers who I often looked down upon and did not want to be associated with. It got to the point that I became unsatisfied with my home town, my physical appearance, and even my closest friends. This combined with the surge in anime, K-pop, and other media on the internet really got me hooked and believing really fetish-y things about the Sinosphere. I hate being reminded of it and have tried to move on.
However, I am thankful for my exposure to Eastern culture, though it was through a very bastardized, Westernized lens. I am grateful for my exposure, even though it started out with something as intellectually undemanding as Vocaloid music (songs sung by a Japanese voice synthesizer). The best part about the exposure was that it helped me leave Christianity and join Buddhism at age 11, which greatly helped with my mental health considering I was experiencing suicidal thoughts since the age of 8. Though I had awful misunderstandings of Buddhism in the beginning and still do not really have a Buddhist teacher, I am glad that I have the resources to connect myself with other Buddhists and take refuge in the Triple Gem.
As I left my gross misconceptions of the Sinosphere behind back when I was 14 while still having a healthy interest in it, my eyes were eventually opened to perils which threaten not only the homelands of Buddhism (East, South, and Southeast Asia), but also the sustainability of modern humans. These two perils are Western culture and capitalist fascism.
The West exoticizes and misrepresents Buddhism and the culture of its home, the East, as a whole. I am ashamed to be born in a culture where this was encouraged, which I am worried could lead me to fetishizing Eastern culture again.
But what I know for sure is that the West’s hyperindividualism is harming people, both those whose lands are invaded and its own people. This combined with the West’s growing rejection of education, including that of the knowledge the West itself has given to the world for humanity’s benefit, makes it clear that it is lacking some of the Sinosphere’s cultural strengths. Everybody should hold collectivism and education to the same degree that the Sinosphere does, otherwise we would be left with an unsustainable society that would destroy itself.
There is nothing wrong with speaking Western languages, eating Western foods, watching (most types of) Western media, wearing Western clothes, and especially nothing wrong with using Western inventions, but we are now seeing that the West’s hyperindividualism and rejection of education is destructive and spreading like a cancer.
It is only Buddhists who make an effort to assimilate to the East (had they not been born into it) who can see the West with its hyperindividualism and uneducatedness, promoted by its creation of its spreading ideologies such as capitalist fascism and social Darwinism, for what it really is: a cancer. I can now see the direction the United States, the most populated and powerful country in the West, is going due to the rise of ultra-capitalism and/or fascism supporters.
Rarely the phrase “Western”, as in “formed by the combined foundations of Greco-Roman civilization and Western Christianity” (Gabbe), raised positive thoughts in my mind since I learned about it shortly after discovering Buddhism. “Western” when used in the context of medicine is an exception to this, but we are now seeing more and more Westerners dishonor the progress their ancestors made towards modern, mainstream, dare I say, Western medicine as they fall for anti-vaccine and anti-mask pseudoscience.
Nowadays, some who use the word in a derogatory context are uneducated reactionaries that bash anything and everything Western, yet hypocritically promote the Western political ideology of fascism. A strength that a majority (though now a decreasing number) of Western countries have is their progressivism, supporting scientific advancements, women’s rights, racial equality, and the LGBT+. However, this is not just becoming less common; being a progressive Westerner is not enough, not enough to end Western imperialism, to save the sacred truths taught to us by the Shakyamuni Buddha, or to empower the working class.
Although I never fully approved of Western culture after my weeaboo phase ended, my early teen self still ended up falling into the anti-social justice warrior side of YouTube that I now recognized hindered my understanding of what actually ruined my country, the United States of America. I still did not feel comfortable calling myself a Westerner but mainly because the West did not widely accept Buddhism and has several times in its history persecuted Buddhists. At the same time, I was deceived by a bastardized form of Buddhism common among Westerners (known as “secular Buddhism”, which picks and chooses aspects of the Buddha’s teachings instead of accepting them as a whole), so I was a bit more of the classic, stereotypical atheist neckbeard who fetishized the East up until 2020. Since then, my views became more progressive similar to those of American liberals and I denounced traditionalist Western beliefs, but like the average American liberal, I did not see Western culture, both traditional and progressive, as the peril I now see it. It was not until around the end of 2023 when I discovered the Western problem.
It was a slow burn that started with my discovery of Buddhists on the internet talking about how the West misrepresented Buddhism to appeal to “self-help” consumerists, Christians, and New Age followers. In the Westerner, I originally saw only a person who followed harmless customs, traditions, and other norms that came from a part of the world where Buddhism was not the dominant religion (if you could even call the non-theistic dharma as taught by the Gautama Buddha a religion). And so, I did not believe that Western civilization needed to fall for the safety of the dharma, let alone for its own people. After all, I thought to myself, the West has contributed so much to science and the modern world as we know it. I still believe to this day that there are no superior cultures and that each one simply has its own unique strengths and weaknesses, some of which are only subjective. However, while looking through Buddhist forums, I was shocked to hear about the West’s pollution of Buddhism and my knowledge on Buddhism skyrocketed as I learned that I fell victim to the Dunning-Kruger effect. I started reading sutras and immersing myself with Buddhism by listening to those who have much more experience than I do. There are hardly any Buddhists in my community and the only Buddhist center within reach is a New Kadampa Tradition meditation center (FYI: the New Kadampa Tradition must be avoided since it has a reputation for financially exploiting members and its monastics have allegations of drug trafficking and sexual abuse), so books and the internet are all I have left.
Practicing Buddhism in the West is nearly impossible without a community, without a Buddhist teacher, without any resources written by Eastern Buddhists. Reddit user u/Tendai-Student, a “lay Tendai Student [sic] with aspirations to become a Priest [sic]” states the following:
It is exceedingly challenging for a Westerner who is interested in Buddhism to find reliable information. Bookstores' Buddhist sections are rife with myths about the religion (we will come to some of these misconceptions below). Buddhism-related disinformation abounds in university classes. Misinformation about Buddhism abounds in publications with a Buddhist theme. Even Buddhism-related english-speaking [sic] Reddit boards are prone to carry false information.
Buddhism is constantly distorted in the same way: to make it more agreeable to Abrahamic faiths(especially Christianity in the west) [sic]. To imply that it is subject to Western standards, Western religion, and Western consumerism and materialism.
…Asian teachers are frequently excluded from English-speaking Buddhist places (meditation centers, university forums, periodicals). Asians make up the majority of Buddhists in the United States, despite the fact that popular images of Buddhism in the West make it appear otherwise. In the minds of Westerners, Buddhism is a religion of white converts. They don't even pay attention to the odd lack of Asians in some Buddhist areas. (u/Tendai-Student)
It is no wonder that I went through a phase when I was a weeaboo with “yellow fever”. The Westerner commodifies and commercializes these Buddhist practices and East Asian customs like they do with several other cultures. Its misuse and stealing of Buddhism is the worst because its teachings are for us to end suffering by ridding ourselves of the three poisons: greed, ignorance, and hatred (which the Westerner promotes).
My realization of this drew me away from the West, similar to when my obsession with the East began. The difference is that my interest in the East now is not because of a fantasy born out of misguidance, especially not a sexual one. I now know that there is more to the East than its pop culture. But I cannot help thinking that none of this would have happened and I would better understand Buddhism had I been born to and raised by Buddhists in East Asia, or even a majority Buddhist country in South or Southeast Asia.
However, the possibility of a cycle starting with a yo-yoing fetishization of the East makes me anxious. When I realized what I was doing at first was fetishization, I did further research and found out that the West is to blame for its portrayal of the East in its media. This in turn makes me denounce the West and brings me back towards my obsession with the Sinosphere, which could lead to more fetishization.
Despite this, I am glad that at the very least, my interest is more than just wanting to live a kawaii lifestyle, hoping to have a “submissive housewife who will look young forever”, or all that neckbeard squick. I do have to say that there is something else that is drawing me towards the Sinosphere, not to mention that it is the region where Buddhism is dominant (the same is true to a lesser extent with the Indosphere). Even though I am not a huge fan of tradition since I am very progressive, when a region’s culture gets something right, they get it right. In addition to Buddhist values, the Sinosphere holds education and collectivism to a high degree. It is no wonder I find their people so much more intelligent and caring than people from my culture.
It is common knowledge that countries such as Japan, China, South Korea, and Singapore have the highest average IQs. To add to this (unbeknownst to many), even less developed countries, e.g. Mongolia, with high Buddhist populations around the same region, have average IQs higher than developing and undeveloped nations outside the region. The most agreed upon reason for this is cultural factors rather than genetic or economic factors. To conclude, Buddhism combined with values in the East Asian cultural sphere creates the best “brains” to represent humanity, thus the West should make way for them, especially considering the East’s superior collectivism.
Of course cultures do not stay the same forever because they change over time. One big thing that is different now in the Sinosphere and Indosphere (the latter I am mentioning because it is where Buddhism came from, though it is not as dominant in the cultural region as it was) is that they are generally much more patriarchal and anti-LGBT+ than they were up until the last several centuries. However, Buddhism treats same-sex relations and being transgender the same as heterosexuality and being cisgender (preferring celibacy among monastics, though depending on the school of Buddhism, those in the monastic order may be treated as their birth gender, even if they are transgender), and in addition, the Buddha taught that women are just as capable of attaining enlightenment as men. Even outside of Buddhism, there are records of same-sex relations as early as the Shang dynasty in China and the temple walls in Khajuraho, India depict homosexual activity. As for feminism, China was matrilineal until the Han dynasty era, when Confucianism and filial piety became mainstream in the area, while India, home to over 100 different ethnic communities, has had a few matriarchal and egalitarian societies pre-European colonization. In the modern era, numerous people in the two cultural spheres are becoming more supportive of gender equality and the LGBT+, which in some cases may be due to Westernization (not that it redeems it) or simply the individuals’ progressive political views not influenced by Western culture.
What has stayed the same for the most part, besides Buddhism, is the Sinosphere’s and Indosphere’s value of collectivism in honor-shame societies and the former cultural sphere’s emphasis on education; this is what Westerners, as well as people all over the world, need for themselves. If the West is going to fall due to hyperconsumerism, late stage capitalism, and uneducated leaders, those living in the West would be better off joining Buddhism and assimilating to the East. Arguably, the best way to do this is to move to a majority Buddhist country, preferably one in the Sinosphere (its core countries being China, Japan, the Koreas, Taiwan, and Vietnam). Leave everybody you know from your home behind, especially non-Buddhists. Just to make things clear, Westerners are not necessarily evil and it is not their fault they were raised in a Western culture, but having these people in your life will hold you back from collectivism, quality education free of anti-intellectual quackery, and above all, understanding the dharma.
After you have left everybody in your life and started anew, you can immerse yourself in the culture. Again, abandoning Western food, media, clothing, and especially inventions and scientific breakthroughs is very unnecessary. Your main focus is reprogramming your mind to think like a person (specifically a Buddhist person) in the Sinosphere/Indosphere, utilizing the high educational standards, putting the collective over the individual, and taking refuge in the Triple Gem. Before moving, though, it is best to make yourself familiar with the customs and learn the language of the place you are moving to. To aid your assimilation, it would not hurt to start dating one of the locals who strongly identifies with the culture, regardless of their race. Someone living there who is not ethnically East, South, or Southeast Asian who is still very involved in the culture would be very helpful to your assimilation as one who is ethnically East, South, or Southeast Asian (I am clarifying this to discourage racial fetishization). This may be difficult as you would have to win over approval from their parents, let alone convince them to see you as another Easterner, but if you manage to do so, that would be fantastic. To make things easier, you could plan to move to a country where people treat women as equals and are relatively accepting of the LGBT+ so you would not have to worry about gender roles or whatever. Think of places in the Sinosphere such as Singapore, Taiwan, Japan, Hong Kong, or if you are planning on going to the Indosphere (which is not too big of a step down) since they did give us Buddhism after all, Nepal and Thailand. Your most important goal, however, is to rewire your brain to think in a more Sinic or Indic way and be more in touch with Buddhism.
You can hardly consider yourself a Westerner if you manage to do so, being Western only in your country of origin (and possibly race as well). I am definitely not like those other “people” from the West who strongly cling to Western culture because they just do not understand. Western cultural merit is almost solely from the proxy of our ancestors’ inventions, scientific discoveries, and political revolutions. Considering that the West is being brought towards the wrong direction in the modern era, we should get out of there culturally, if not physically, until it all hits the fan.
If the West continues its defilement of the rest of the world, when it falls, it will bring it all down with it. We must not lose or else everybody loses.
This pressure has a good side; because the bigger the great threat becomes, the more we will push ourselves to assimilate and raise children to fight for us. Considering the infectability of Western anti-intellectualism and “main character syndrome”, how could our Western peers know better? Buddhism is not a proselytizing “religion”, so our best bet is eliminating the promoter of the three poisons, the Westerner (especially the Christian Westerner), from our own lives. How it will run to us as its society collapses under itself and we welcome it to assimilate but say “we told you so”! The older I get, the better I know the Westerner. The better I know the Westerner, the easier it gets to excuse hostility against them, especially from the Sinosphere.
From my perspective, the ones to blame are not the angry, low-middle class white males in the rural United States nor the boba conservative bananas and right-wing coconuts who suck up to the West’s biggest scum, but rather the ones who have brainwashed them to fall for chauvinism, reactionarism, and laissez faire capitalism.
Realizing this, I am now closely investigating the sources of these beliefs which make up the foundation of social Darwinism and, when combined with totalitarian thinking, capitalist fascism. This is after I noticed that these systems are unsustainable and would destroy themselves from the inside out. The slow, painful destruction of communities who fall victim to them are well known to me. If one looks carefully, they can see the consequences that have been unfolding since the 2020 Coronavirus Pandemic. You may wonder: were the founders aware of this? My guess would be that they were not but were evil nonetheless because they were too selfish to think about the future, their descendants.
If this is the case, then it is the duty of us, the opponents of these ideologies, to spread the word faster than the ideologies are currently spreading in the West. It is hard for me to believe it is not the case considering that both Western political ideologies are fundamentally reactionary. Besides, I doubt they would want civilization as we know it to collapse.
I have a social Darwinist as a maternal uncle who sometimes meets with my parents, maternal grandfather, and younger brother and with his political conversations, often sourced from flawed studies, Russian news, and 4chan, I can easily study the principles of its theories. Both of my parents are also conservatives who support Trump and other immoral American politicians. Being raised by the two of them, I bet I could disguise myself as a Western right-wing traditionalist, maybe even a social Darwinist, since I know the way they speak, to whom they flock to, and how to make them give one their full attention. It would probably be easy to do this as some right-wing grifters can fool American right-wing audiences into thinking that they share the same beliefs (e.g. Thomas MacDonald).
Their kind are gullible because they do not listen to fact checkers and often do not do research to see if who they are listening to really practices what they preach.
Even though there are Westerners who are not like this, the West cannot coexist with Buddhism, let alone the cultures where it is dominant, as the West ruled by colonizing tirthikas and it will likely always be for as long as it lasts. And just because their culture is not as viable as the one founded on Buddhist, Sinic, or even Indic values does not give them the right to imperialize the rest of the world and bring it down with them. We can welcome the Westerner willing to change its ways, turn it into one of an Easterner, and have its culture go through a quick and painless demise, or the Westerner can continue its power trip, destroy everything it touches along with itself, and society will suffer a slow and painful death. This is what the conclusion that I have come to so far as I examine capitalist fascism and Westerners’ connection to it.
The Western doctrine of capitalist fascism rejects an aspect of maitrī, fulfilling beings’ basic needs, and substitutes it for a privilege towards the bourgeoisie and the exploitation of the workers’ labor (also known as Vergegenständlichung or “objectification”). Thus it denies the worth of the collective, only concerns itself with greedy individuals, and thus is immoral. Unlike what the non-Buddhist capitalist wants people to believe, all beings have an altruistic Buddha nature, but it is corrupted, being difficult to notice as it has only conditions without a beginning (listed in the Avijjā Sutta). Abandoning capitalism, both fascist and non-fascist, gives power to the people as it ensures a more guaranteed right to life instead of having not even one thousand billionaires own more than half of Earth’s population combined, more than each one of those billionaires could ever spend in their lifetimes.
Should the Westerner, especially one who pushes capitalist fascism, strengthen its grip on humanity, it can be said that it would make its own naraka.
And so I stand by my plan and encourage others to do the same because it is in the name of the Unsurpassable Enlightened One. By protecting our kind against the Westerner, we are defending the Triple Gem.
If it is not already clear, the disapproval I feel towards the societal values and prevailing norms of the West has led me to question my place in this environment. I believe that meaningful change can only be fostered if the West is put into its place and the Sino-Buddhist East motivates our minds.
In Vietnam, where the culture is predominantly Sinic with some Indic aspects and little European influence, we can see the promotion of quality education, collectivism, and Buddhism (practiced by a forgivable 15% of the population), very unlike the nearby country of the Philippines. In the Philippines, its citizens cling to the Anglo-Saxon and Hispanic culture brought to the country by American and Spaniard imperialists. The effects of this are very clear in their average IQs (Vietnam: 89.53 vs. Philippines: 81.64) and PISA scores (Vietnam: 1403 vs. Philippines: 1058). They are both developing countries in Southeast Asia that were colonized by the West, but because Vietnam kept its culture more pure and stuck to Buddhism (or at least Sinic philosophies), its people are better educated compared to the nearby Westernized countries in a similar economic situation.
In short, Westernization leads to the following:

1. The native culture becomes diluted
2. If Western thinking intrudes, mental degeneration takes hold of the native population and its society slowly degrades along with the West itself as it eats itself from the inside out

Those who cause this to happen must be stopped, especially those who endanger Buddhism. We must not wait for the fruition of their karma for their sacrilege of the Tathagata’s teachings because by then it would be too late, and even if it is instant karma, every bodhisattva’s job is to end suffering.
Those who spread the harmful ideologies bring themselves and others away from the Buddha’s word are polluting humanity by having them join their rat race that will only end in their own demise. They are leading to the ruin of many and thus, I do not consider them to be human but instead parasites.
There is a disgraceful Western belief that for a short amount of time was not held by the majority but is now very pervasive in the West and also is the foundation of reactionarism, chauvinism, and capitalism in all cultures. It says: “My individual rights matter the most and freedom means my right to violate the rights of others.”
This Western babble is followed by numerous all around the world and sows disharmony in societies where it becomes the norm. This idea provides basis for several types of Westerners, including but not limited to:

• the “Karen”; a middle-aged, entitled, often white and anti-mask/anti-vaccine female who makes trivial complaints
• the “Chud”; a racist, misogynistic, right-wing male (usually young) who browses 4chan everyday and has a high likelihood of becoming a mass shooter
• the dayangma (Hanzi: 大洋马); a sex-obsessed young adult Western female, majority white but sometimes POC, is conventionally attractive (to Westerners), sleeps around, and in some cases creates spawn that do not know their father(s)
• the angry white male; self-explanatory, right-wing and traditionalist (sometimes a social Darwnist or capitalist fascist), commonly rural, evangelical Christian and have never seen a POC before
• the “Trad Wife”; a prudish, sometimes uneducated, female who lets Western males walk all over it and raises spawn who are likely to become angry whites
• the New Agehippy; generally a teenager or young adult, a well-meaning but poorly educated white liberal or social democrat who misappropriates Buddhism and appeases Muslims
• the AmeriKKKan fathegrandfather; a middle-aged to elderly, chauvinist male with children, sometimes also grandchildren, and is unconcerned about social justice and similarly to the “Karen”, falls for pseudoscientific conspiracy theories
• the neckbearded otaku (Hiragana: おたく); a hairy white male with “yellow fever” and mediocre hygiene, for the most part subreddit/Discord server moderators who stalk and kidnap East Asian ladies (if not teenage girls)

The growth of these groups is evidence of the degradation of Western culture, showing that it must retire as the dominant culture and make way for the much more sustainable East. Once the manuṣya realm on Earth is completely tainted by the West, Buddhas can no longer arise in the world because the dharma would be known by nobody and the Vinaya are forgotten or destroyed.
The future generation will not remember the dharma unless we halt the growth of the parasitic culture that promotes overconsumption, hyperindividualism, and anti-intellectualism.
The Westerner has a remarkable contrast to the Sinic or Indic. The Westerner has a grasp on this world so strong with its weaponry since the 16th century, using force to disrupt the traditional lives of whatever native people it saw, safe for those in a few countries (even though some of those countries are still being Westernized). The Dutch, English, French, Portuguese, and Spanish built colonies from the Americas to Southeast Asia. The kingdoms were blessed with powerful militaries, strong economies, stable governments, and advanced technology that allowed their cultures to spread. But after half a millennium and looking back, was any of this really earned? And is the Westerner’s conquest over yet?
Since the Great Schism of Christianity, the Westerner trained itself for roughly one thousand years. It trained itself in several aspects, but it forgot an important piece, the dharma. The cunning Westerner, blessed with advancements, used them to tyrannize other peoples on a scale never before seen. This was the beginning of the Latter Day of the Dharma. The dharma is declining because of the savage Westerner. And so, it leeched off of any people it got a hold of, including predominantly Buddhist peoples. Even during the decolonization of the 20th century, fundamentalist Christianity spread and threatened the dharma. To make matters worse, previously Buddhist peoples clung to Christianity as taught by their colonizers; the French in Vietnam and the Spanish and Americans in the Philippines. To this day, the Philippines is a lost cause along with its majority Muslim neighbors in Maritime Southeast Asia. The cunning Westerner turned the Filipino against us and now Buddhists make up only 2% of the Philippines’ population. Now, the Westerner sees Buddhism as nothing more than an aesthetic, a self-help lifestyle, or a decoration that they can commercialize and cherry pick aspects to integrate into their religion or lack thereof.
It is excellent for someone from the West to learn the dharma as this will turn them into a more compassionate and wise person, but they must not enforce the Western gaze onto it and discard parts of the Shakyamuni Buddha’s words they do not like. To be fair, some aspects of Buddhism would be nearly impossible for a Westerner to understand unless they assimilate.
Buddhism is not materialist or blind belief without evidence and it belongs to the East, so stop pretending to be something you are not while pushing stereotypes of Asian Buddhists.
However, even though Buddhism is not materialist or very in line with the Western worldview, it is uniquely human. Walpola Rahula, a Sri Lankan Buddhist monk and writer explains it this way:
Among the founders of religions the Buddha (if we are permitted to call him the founder of a religion in the popular sense of the term) was the only teacher who did not claim to be other than a human being, pure and simple. Other teachers were either God, or his incarnations in different forms, or inspired by him. The Buddha was not only a human being; he claimed no inspiration from any god or external power either. He attributed all his realization, attainments and achievements to human endeavour and human intelligence. A man and only a man can become Buddha. Every man has within himself the potentiality of becoming a Buddha, if he so wills it and endeavours. We can call the Buddha a man par excellence. He was so perfect in his 'human-ness' that he came to be regarded later in popular religion almost as 'super-human'. Man's position, according to Buddhism, is supreme. Man is his own master, and there is no higher being or power that sits in judgment over his destiny. (Rahula 3)
How could one even consider the Westerners who diluted Buddhism human themselves at this point? If it were not for them, Westerners may have a better understanding of the teachings of the “man par excellence”. We are lucky that the only Westerners who necessarily see us as inferior are white nationalists and fundamentalist Christians, otherwise the Westerner could have committed a genocide that would have left millions of us dead. Westerners are competitive beings, so they rarely act in concord towards each other. It is only when there is something that draws them together or away from a common danger.
If everybody on Earth becomes a Westerner, they would wallow in their shamelessness and would have nobody left to exploit except for each other until they destroy themselves.
Until they are the only ones left, they will vilify and exploit anything non-Western until they only have each other, then leading to a chaotic world of undignified militaries, economic inequality, corrupt governments, and little or no innovations.
Unless the Westerner considers even the slightest of inspiration from the East, it will continue to follow hyperindividualism and have apathy towards its education. That is why the West is falling. Those from the West who are smart enough to realize that the West’s flaws that it spreads are deciding that the West is not worth maintaining and its resignation is overdue. If those from the West abandon it to assimilate to the East, it would make the West’s death quicker but more dignified.
This is more than a fad but rather the realization that Western society would be best being a passing fad itself. The West gave us great inventions, food, clothes, scientific discoveries, etc. and once it is gone, the East can pick up where it left off just fine.
We will never abandon the Triple Gem because we recognize it to be more than a spiritual, exotic aesthetic or trend. To do so would make us just like those others in the West who Asian Buddhists look down upon. When the time is right, each and every one of us will surround ourselves with the people who know the dharma better than anyone you have met in the West and we can finally be at their level. We shall be Western only in our country of origin and/or race, but in every other way, we will be Easterners; Buddhist Easterners who will take back what rightfully belongs to us.
When we (and hopefully Buddhists outside of both the Eastern and the Western world) do this, consumerism will lose some of its biggest prey. Even though it may not seem like it at first considering we are abandoning everyone we have ever known, we are doing our ancestors a favor by joining the culture that strives towards the end of suffering. We will be leaving our cultures’ ways of thinking behind, but doing this will save face for our lineage, especially the Western lineage as we would be preventing the creation of more “Karens”, “Chuds”, dayangmas, “neckbeards”, and other degenerates. We will not be annoying dorky nerds and certainly not “neckbeards” who are overly obsessed with and fetishize the culture but people making an effort to get closer to the dharma and surrender to the East.
Although we are collectivists, we must seek personal liberation first for the good of other beings. Once the West collapses and its former supporters come running to us, we shall welcome them. If some do not recognize this before it is too late, well boo hoo! They will have a better birth with the world we will create. Some of them, especially their unlucky spawn, would probably be better off dead and reborn into a better life, maybe even the Pure Land.
The way it is looking now, the West is falling and becoming the world’s laughingstock, which is a good thing. The quicker it falls, the less painful it will be for the Westerner and everybody else. Western culture will not be missed, but we can keep the best of it and continue the innovations that the creators would wish to see. We will remember the legacy of them and be thankful while never forgiving or forgetting the ones who ruined the West.
Works Cited
“Ignorance Avijjā Sutta (AN 10:61).” Translated by Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu. Dhammatalks. 2017, https://www.dhammatalks.org/suttas/AN/AN10_61.html. Accessed 31 May 2024.
Gabbe. “Western Culture.” Wikipedia. 25 May 2024. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Western_culture#:~:text=The%20core%20of%20Western%20civilization,Roman%20civilization%20and%20Western%20Christianity. Accessed 31 May 2024.
Rahula Thero, Walpola. What the Buddha Taught. Oneworld Publications, 1959. Accessed 31 May 2024.
u/Tendai-Student. “栄真Eishin (u/Tendai-Student).” Reddit, 31 May 2024, https://www.reddit.com/useTendai-Student/. Accessed 31 May 2024.
u/Tendai-Student. “Buddhism is being MISREPRESENTED in the West Marginalisation, cultural appropriation, misconceptions and what you can do.” Reddit, 2023, https://www.reddit.com/WrongBuddhism/comments/14zc6xg/buddhism_is_being_misrepresented_in_the_west/. Accessed 31 May 2024.

Warning: Lengthy vent incoming
I'm a recovering porn and masturbation addict. It's 920 days since I last touched myself, so I'm good on that front. But the porn, fuck! I isolate myself cause of bad breath. For the most part I'm good, but when I get depressive episodes like this, I really need an outlet. Since I'm isolated, my options are limited, so what do I find myself turning to...you guessed it, porn. I'm stuck in this never ending cycle and it's killing me. I go a month without looking at porn and I'm convinced I'll never look back. I mean I be feeling so strong that I even skip the thirst traps or any dirty discourse like leaked sex tapes on Twitter. But then that crippling depression episode hits and I can't help but look for some much needed dopamine from sexual content. Sometimes it's not even depression, just getting natural sexual desires. I be scared of "linking" with an actual girl cause I'm very conscious about my breath. I actually developed this addiction cause of bad breath. It was my escape from all the pain bad breath caused me in my teens and in the end I lost myself to it. It was much easier when I had a girlfriend last year and had an active sex life. But of course I can't maintain relationships cause of bad breath. It really sucks that all my efforts to escape the addiction are foiled by the very thing that led me down this ugly path. Something that's out of my control. I wonder if anyone relates.

Just sharing because I've nowhere to share. A bit of background. I started cycling again after my car broke down about a month ago. So I bought a dirt cheap MTB for 50 euro and got it fixed. Fell in love with cycling and commuting with it, this time seeing cycling as a serious fun mode of transport. I've never dared to cycle along with traffic before but since I've been having fun, my confidence just naturally grew so now I'm cycling on the road with traffic.
Yesterday I was cycling in the city centre, on the bike lane. A taxi pulled up in front but not blocking the bike lane... As I was approaching the passenger opened the door just about me 2-3 metres away. I had anticipation so I wasn't going fast and used both of my brakes when I saw what she was about to do. The woman was saying sorry and said didn't see me.
I don't blame her. Tbh what I blame is the cycling infrastructure (I live in Ireland), most of the times the cycle lanes are just not in the most logical position or adequate. The teen me would have been detered quickly not to cycle again in the public road but not the adult version of me. I would actually credit the car driving lessons I got and driving test for it (they put a big emphasis on anticipation and checking blindspots here a lot). Knowing the rules of the road and experience with driving a car ,translated to me being a better cyclist as it turned out. In which the teen me would have been scared and detered or probably got doored.

FYI I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THIS POST I WAS ASKED TO REPOST ... SORRY AITA… Am I the AITA for, I ( 36f) want my 17 year old son to know the truth, that his father didn’t just let him come live with me, I fought for him tooth and nail, spent over $15000s (not that the money means anything at all I would do it 100 times again if necessary) and many more truths he is completely oblivious of. My main goal is not to put his father down and make him look bad ( he can do that just fine on his own ;)) my main goal is for my son to understand that I never gave up trying to get him, trying to find him, tried to bring him home, and that not one minute ever went by that he wasn't on my mind. MY SON (17) has resentments with me and he is having a hard time adjusting to life not knowing the truth I feel. A therapist discouraged me from telling him " my truth" Let me share some facts before you judge. Almost 9 years ago my sons father (my ex that I was never married to, which is an important fact later on) took my son for a weekend visit, ONE OF THE FIRST WEEKEND VISITS IN OUR SONS ENTIRE YOUNG 8 YEAR OLD LIFE, and then took off out of the state. This began the UNIMAGINABLE journey of parental abduction and alienation, my son being moved to over 30 locations, some of those were living in a car, over 12 states that my son can remember, and 8 years of trauma and awful experiences that no child should ever be exposed to. Again Before you judge when I realized that they had taken off and were not at the address that was provided to me the first thing I did was notify the police. This contact with the police would set the tone for the next 8 years. The police absolutely made me feel like I had done wrong like I was guilty of some horrific crime by allowing my son to visit with his father because The father and I were not married and we did not establish any kind of set custody in the courts because up until this point my son had always been with me the father had not been really involved in his life the police informed me that this was a family court issue I needed to take it to the courts. I was extremely confused I thought that because I was his birth mother that I had custody, I continued to press the matter with the police and question them and ask them for some kind of direction or help or what can I do? Can they do anything? They said sure do you have an address to where they are? do you know where they're located right now? Not knowing or having any idea where they were they said there was nothing they could do and since I couldn’t prove that they even left the state or had intentions to leave the state that FBI couldn't help either. Also keep in mind I was in my early to mid 20s at this point very naïve a distraught emotional wreck and just clinging on to any kind of hope that the police were going to help. So a brief Cliff notes to the next about six years of hell I would artempt to go to the courts to establish emergency custody but unfortunately because I had no idea where they were I could not serve my son's father with court documents. I spoke to a judge off the record where he informed me to hire lawyers and a private investigator find where they are located have a welfare check done to make sure eyes are on my son to make sure he is OK and while that is going on start the process of having him served with court documents. Again being in my young 20s an emotional wreck not in my right mind at all because my baby boy was abducted hiring a lawyer not only where I lived, but also in the state they were hiding at in that time and private investigator on top of that just was not financially possible for me. My family and I however were able to hire a private investigator. This started another game of cat and mouse. I was trying to do this the “right” way. I was trying to obey the laws and go down this “checklist “ so to speak of what I needed to do, but whoever made this “checklist “ did not understand the mind of a narcissist Every time the private investigator would locate my son he would contact me immediately and just like the judge he would suggest to have a welfare check done to make sure my son was OK physically and also hope by some off chance that maybe the police would pick up on something illegal and that they could intervene in some way. (YA RIGHT THIS MAN IS WAY TO GOOD AT ACTING AND MANIPULATING TO BE CAUGHT SLIPPING,) Of course as a beyond worried mother all I NEEDED TO KNOW at that moment was is my son ok? Well IMMEDIATELY AFTER police or department of children and families would make contact before the court documents could be accepted by the courts my sons father would disappear with our son once again! My son was coached And taught how he was to respond to any kind of authorities when they were interviewing him, what to say if he was asked if he was safe, if anyone hurt him, he was told what to say to every possible question. I would request have DCF go and interview my son at school in hopes he would be comfortable to tell the truth away from his father, but it turns out that he was more afraid of repercussions from his father.( These interviews at the school turned out to be extremely helpful and a god send to my son. They were the only glimmer of hope my son told me he had that myself and my family were still looking for him, still loved him, and still even wanted him) there were a few instances when the planets would align and I was able to get the appropriate documents submitted before they would move again, but only to find out that because they had not lived in that jurisdiction for at least 6 months that the courts did not have authority to rule on the matter. More or less the courts didn’t want to deal with a case with so many variables. There are a ton more awful things I could and I may say at a later time but long story short my sons father finally stayed in one place long enough for the courts to have to claim jurisdiction, I was finally able to pay a lawyer To get the process at least started for me to a point I could take over, and it got to a point where my son was going to finally be able to speak to a court appointed guardian ad litem and that scared the father to death because he would end up with not only a child abuse investigation but possibly loose the other children he had and was receiving financial aid and benefits for. The Judge granted me full custody after realizing the reasoning and apologized that system failed us for so long. Now I have an extremely confused teen, who defends his father out of fear, still afraid of what his father could do to him, and he doesn’t know anything close to the truth of our horrible experience So I ask, AITA FOR WANTING MY SON TO KNOW AT LEAST SOME OF THE FACTS? Let me know if you would like more details or questions answered. Parental abduction is an unbearable situation that affects so many people for their entire lives. You would think there has to be help or organizations that can help, but at the end of the day money is the main factor and it is the victims that have to spend the most money to receive any bit of justice! :(

Hi! I tried writing it all out, but it was too long so I am going to try to keep bulletpoints and keep a timeline.
Junior year, 15 years old:

• Did not have friends til this point, met this one guy in class though
• first relationship, first kiss, first everything until one month later when he left me for someone else (also cheated on me)
• anxiety latched onto losing him, kept sending messages trying to get him back for two months until it was no contact for 4 months, he knows that i struggled with losing him though heavily
• I notice people he knows keeping tabs on me, I didnt realize until I sent him a message asking to get back together and one of them starts laughing at me + i think one of them took a photo in class but not sure, just suspicion

Senior Year, 16 years old;

• Our classes are close so we see each other again
• he tried to message me before the year started though but went silent afterwards and backed out
• I offered to be friends with benefits, he agreed, the first night he wanted a BJ so I did a little bit but didn't want to do anymore
• he locked in his car until I agreed to date him again
• broke up the next day with him because the anxiety of worrying if he was cheating was too much
• tried to get him back the same night, it was the last time I was emotionally intimate with anyone like that as I confessed how I missed him, how it was hard moving on, etc. and he agreed to get back together
• we hooked up and he ghosted me (hard block and everything)

Still Senior year but here is where the cycle starts

• he unblocks me and tries to get another hookup, i say no, he begs and I give in, it was just a hookup
• He does this again, begs for sex, I say no but give in
• at this point, my anxiety is kicking in hard, i block his accounts and he makes more to get to me anyways, it just becomes a chore to give in
• He calls up my phone at 3 am repeatedly, I say no but he threatens to make a scene, I give in, he is drunk and I am starting on antidepressants so I am nauseas, when I can't give him a BJ, he gets mad and berates me saying that he found "badder bitches" and telling me everything wrong with me
• When I tried to leave, he just said "leave like you always do" and I always wondered if it was his revenge for leaving the first night
• Cycle continues, I get anxiety seeing his name on the phone (like instant nausea and disassociation with my body)
• one time he threatens to knock my door down when i stood my ground and talked about reporting, saying he didn't care, deleted everything when I started taking screenshots, he just came back again the next day
• I keep going back though, mainly because he gave me validation and attention and it felt like he was the only person that saw me (at this point, no relatable friends and no family support system, he was the only person who shared my experiences)

Post Graduation 2023

• I moved to another side of town, all my friends left the state or just went silent, had to leave my job, i went to him for comfort for the first time because he was the only person I knew so i started embracing him
• we still had moments where I didn't want to but he did so I felt like I had to
• I tried dating but each time, I couldn't trust them; i was so afraid that they just wanted my body that I started treating it like that, which ended in only one night stands
• Met this new guy D that was his opposite in november, changed my usernames, we went on for three months until he left me because I had too much intimacy issues (emotional mainly) and didn't let him past my walls, so i tried to go back to the first guy
• first guy moved to cali, admitted to wanting to reach out to me (pretty sure he tried but couldn't find me anymore), we relied on communication and he would be pressing on for photos and video calls, one time he said that it'll be better next time because this time we will both want it this time, not just him
• until we had a conversation on how he really saw me
• I romantized it all as a complicated relationship, to a friendship, and I think that was just to protect myself from the truth because he admitted that he only cared about the sex with me, never beyond that. I asked if he ever felt guilty and he just said that he didnt, we were young and we didn't understand anything
• I ended it and he tried to make another account, I accepted but he didn't say anything. I think its either because there really isnt any use since he is in another state, but also maybe to see if I would take him back still.

I am still processing it. I left it behind in March. I am not sure what to make of it. Calling him an abuser feels so dirty, like I am shitting on everything that happened and every tiny detail that mattered to me. I am just confused. Some times it feels like it fits and he is a bad guy but other times, like now, I feel like I am just overreacting and it really was just us being young, which feels wierd cause half of it was barely a year ago. I don't know . I am just confused and would love insight from others.

AITA… Am I the AITA for, I ( 36f) want my 17 year old son to know the truth, that his father didn’t just let him come live with me, I fought for him tooth and nail, spent over $15000s (not that the money means anything at all I would do it 100 times again if necessary) and many more truths he is completely oblivious of. My main goal is not to put his father down and make him look bad ( he can do that just fine on his own ;)) my main goal is for my son to understand that I never gave up trying to get him, trying to find him, tried to bring him home, and that not one minute ever went by that he wasn't on my mind. MY SON (17) has resentments with me and he is having a hard time adjusting to life not knowing the truth I feel. A therapist discouraged me from telling him " my truth" Let me share some facts before you judge. Almost 9 years ago my sons father (my ex that I was never married to, which is an important fact later on) took my son for a weekend visit, ONE OF THE FIRST WEEKEND VISITS IN OUR SONS ENTIRE YOUNG 8 YEAR OLD LIFE, and then took off out of the state. This began the UNIMAGINABLE journey of parental abduction and alienation, my son being moved to over 30 locations, some of those were living in a car, over 12 states that my son can remember, and 8 years of trauma and awful experiences that no child should ever be exposed to. Again Before you judge when I realized that they had taken off and were not at the address that was provided to me the first thing I did was notify the police. This contact with the police would set the tone for the next 8 years. The police absolutely made me feel like I had done wrong like I was guilty of some horrific crime by allowing my son to visit with his father because The father and I were not married and we did not establish any kind of set custody in the courts because up until this point my son had always been with me the father had not been really involved in his life the police informed me that this was a family court issue I needed to take it to the courts. I was extremely confused I thought that because I was his birth mother that I had custody, I continued to press the matter with the police and question them and ask them for some kind of direction or help or what can I do? Can they do anything? They said sure do you have an address to where they are? do you know where they're located right now? Not knowing or having any idea where they were they said there was nothing they could do and since I couldn’t prove that they even left the state or had intentions to leave the state that FBI couldn't help either. Also keep in mind I was in my early to mid 20s at this point very naïve a distraught emotional wreck and just clinging on to any kind of hope that the police were going to help. So a brief Cliff notes to the next about six years of hell I would artempt to go to the courts to establish emergency custody but unfortunately because I had no idea where they were I could not serve my son's father with court documents. I spoke to a judge off the record where he informed me to hire lawyers and a private investigator find where they are located have a welfare check done to make sure eyes are on my son to make sure he is OK and while that is going on start the process of having him served with court documents. Again being in my young 20s an emotional wreck not in my right mind at all because my baby boy was abducted hiring a lawyer not only where I lived, but also in the state they were hiding at in that time and private investigator on top of that just was not financially possible for me. My family and I however were able to hire a private investigator. This started another game of cat and mouse. I was trying to do this the “right” way. I was trying to obey the laws and go down this “checklist “ so to speak of what I needed to do, but whoever made this “checklist “ did not understand the mind of a narcissist Every time the private investigator would locate my son he would contact me immediately and just like the judge he would suggest to have a welfare check done to make sure my son was OK physically and also hope by some off chance that maybe the police would pick up on something illegal and that they could intervene in some way. (YA RIGHT THIS MAN IS WAY TO GOOD AT ACTING AND MANIPULATING TO BE CAUGHT SLIPPING,) Of course as a beyond worried mother all I NEEDED TO KNOW at that moment was is my son ok? Well IMMEDIATELY AFTER police or department of children and families would make contact before the court documents could be accepted by the courts my sons father would disappear with our son once again! My son was coached And taught how he was to respond to any kind of authorities when they were interviewing him, what to say if he was asked if he was safe, if anyone hurt him, he was told what to say to every possible question. I would request have DCF go and interview my son at school in hopes he would be comfortable to tell the truth away from his father, but it turns out that he was more afraid of repercussions from his father.( These interviews at the school turned out to be extremely helpful and a god send to my son. They were the only glimmer of hope my son told me he had that myself and my family were still looking for him, still loved him, and still even wanted him) there were a few instances when the planets would align and I was able to get the appropriate documents submitted before they would move again, but only to find out that because they had not lived in that jurisdiction for at least 6 months that the courts did not have authority to rule on the matter. More or less the courts didn’t want to deal with a case with so many variables. There are a ton more awful things I could and I may say at a later time but long story short my sons father finally stayed in one place long enough for the courts to have to claim jurisdiction, I was finally able to pay a lawyer To get the process at least started for me to a point I could take over, and it got to a point where my son was going to finally be able to speak to a court appointed guardian ad litem and that scared the father to death because he would end up with not only a child abuse investigation but possibly loose the other children he had and was receiving financial aid and benefits for. The Judge granted me full custody after realizing the reasoning and apologized that system failed us for so long. Now I have an extremely confused teen, who defends his father out of fear, still afraid of what his father could do to him, and he doesn’t know anything close to the truth of our horrible experience So I ask, AITA FOR WANTING MY SON TO KNOW AT LEAST SOME OF THE FACTS? Let me know if you would like more details or questions answered. Parental abduction is an unbearable situation that affects so many people for their entire lives. You would think there has to be help or organizations that can help, but at the end of the day money is the main factor and it is the victims that have to spend the most money to receive any bit of justice! :(

Sorry I had to cut off our friendship.... I couldn't help but know your friend was doing me dirty & I wanted to ask you so many questions.... & tell you why I was so depressed... truthfully. I just couldn't because I didn't want to bother you or unintentionally hurt your feelings with my venting like I can do at times... & I know that I am not innocent &.. early on I Accepted any karma I would get. I didn't want to bring you into my mess. & I didn't want to put you in the position of "rating" your friend out. I also didn't and don't want to add more onto my karmic plate if you will.... I am still learning & growing daily... I hope to one day have the freedom to pick you up and take you out somewhere.
I hope ur doing good, I think about you fondly. I pray for you & I am sorry for any hurt or collateral damage I caused you.

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The following two brain scans were provided by the Neuro-Warfare branch of the Halcyon Security Division (HSD) for the purpose of analyzing the thoughts, behaviors, and information of notorious gangsters Vincent 'Troy' Cohen and Bruno (Deadname: Koraak Tel-Char). At the point of the recording of this archival shared, Bruno has since received his rebirth therapy, and Vincent is currently serving a long-term rehabilitative and reeducative sentence in the Erebus Supermax Prison on Io.
Warning: the contents of this archival shared may be especially disturbing to some audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.
Warning: the contents of this archival shard are for the sole purpose of analyzing the thought patterns and memories of certain degenerate criminals in an effort to ascertain vital information that can be used to eliminate their organizations. Only staff with clearance level Omega may view this archival shared, and the viewership of this archival shared by anyone of inadequate clearance level will lead to twenty years in prison and a fine of over a hundred thousand credits.
Booting up memory scan: Vincent 'Troy' Cohen, November 4th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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"Do you have visuals of the target, Troy?"
I knelt down in the alleyway, the bodies of me and my partners shrouded in long, waterproof, ashen-gray overcoats the shade of dirty street scum that we wore to ward off the constant heavy rainfall the color of osmium. Our faces were covered in a mix of scrapped respirators, visors, or full metal face masks carved with intricate designs to hide our identities. On our waists were our badges of honor: leather belts studded with interlocked rivets made from blackened titanium, each buckle forged of silver and shaped into the head of our gang's symbol, the black mamba. We hid amongst the shadows of the dark midday of Halcyon City, the heavy, oppressive rains blanketing the roads paved obsidian-black with asphalt and weathered concrete walkways. The street lamps were always on, like beacons of false hope in a storm of melancholy.
The city was dark and dreary as always, the planet of Proxima Centauri B, renamed Dawn's Lamentation over a century ago, orbited the red dwarf star of Proxima Centauri, and the atmosphere was thick with natural smog and ever-storming rain clouds. That didn't dissuade people from living here: there was plenty of money to be had for shrewd industrialists and hardworking pioneers, even in the urban sprawl. But that life also came with risks, especially for those on the bottom of the totem pole.
I was a ganger, and we were criminals; full stop. I won't assault you with some spiel about how we're the good guys fighting oppression because, at the end of the day, we could be just as bad, if not worse, than Halcyon's Security Division, or the HSD for short. We were traffickers, killers, extortionists, and money launderers. We dealt with everything from stolen tech and military-grade hardware to hard drugs and sentients.
Yes, sentients. We trafficked sentients, but not in the way you might think. They weren't prisoners, in fact, we were their saviors if they had the cash. We had developed a reputation for fighting the power, but it was still business: sure, freeing captives from the clutches of the Protectorate. The disruption of its many oppressive organizations held a certain satisfaction in my heart for sure, but we didn't help those who couldn't pay unless someone else paid on their behalf. It was about making sure me and my gang, my family, could live a decent life for another day.
It helped that most of us joined after leaving the state yard for partaking in acts of 'degeneracy' and 'anti-xenopet illegalities' as if those terms meant anything anymore other than that we were a threat to the local status quo. It was hard to pick up a job as a former inmate when even in something as harsh and backbreaking as a job in the iridium mines near the poles when the employment office had you blacklisted as a degenerate, which lead to the formation of many of the gangs: we needed to make a living somehow, and when all social programs were cut off from you unless you submitted for 're-education' and the only way to put food on the table was subverting, breaking, or even downright fighting the law, you did what you had to do or you died on the streets a scorned beggar.
It wasn't like the HSD made it easy for us on even a good day: the local HSD units were armed to the teeth with advanced, military-grade hardware that you'd often see on the front lines of the Second Authority War: armored assault transports, a myriad of advanced war droids, all sorts of chemical countermeasures that made tear gas seem like putting the garden hose on mist mode, and of course advanced firearms. Add that to the fact that they were authorized to use deadly force when they deemed it necessary and you had a ruthless, heartless, and nearly unstoppable enemy. But we could make that work: we weren't trying to stop them, just to withstand them.
"Yeah, I got eyes on the prize, Koraak; seven armored transports, two for droids, five for prisoners."
Today wasn't a day for a normal job: we were getting bolder, cockier, more ambitious. Our numbers had swelled for the last few years after the raid at Barnard's Star and the fall of the Blood Dragon Mafia. Their leader, Saito Yasuhide, had committed seppuku as their manor burned, and his twin sons had gone down fighting rather than allowing themselves to be captured simply to face a firing squad. In the aftermath, many of the family's associates had fled to the surrounding systems, and with the sheer size and scope of the criminal underworld found here, it was no wonder that many people who had developed skills of the less legal variety had decided to form ranks with the gangs, and with them they brought guns, tech, knowledge, contacts, and even something that we thought wasn't possible beforehand: a semblance of peace between the gangs, or at least the closest thing to peace that gangs could cultivate effectively. With the fall of the Blood Dragons, we saw the writing on the wall, and the writing couldn't have been clearer: work together or die together.
"Sounds like a massacre, Troy: are you sure we can handle seven?"
"We ain't got no choice, Cinder: this job's double the usual rate, and that's not including the weapons and gear we could scrounge if this goes well," I hissed, my eyes scanning for any resistance. There were at least four guards for each van, not to mention at least eight droids in total, meaning that we were already outnumbered, but we had the element of surprise: we could make it work. "So put your balls in your purse and get ready to spill some blood."
Koraak snorted at our antics, which sounded like someone pulling the ripcord on a lawnmower. He was a veteran Russu Corsair, and while his past of slaving, raiding, and killing was unsavory, so were the lives we'd lived, so who were we to judge? All we cared about was that he was a brutal and capable fighter and a loyal brother in arms. It turned out that being a ganger wasn't much different from being a Corsair: you lived and died by a code of honor, you fought to the death for your brothers, and you lived to die for the sake of your gang and your family, simple as that. In a strange, ironic way, it was an incredibly honest way of life: we were under no illusions as to what we were, what we did, and why we did it, and we'd long since accepted it. The Russu related to us in that aspect, in many ways I could respect, which is why I hated what the Protectorate was doing, and why I couldn't grasp how most of humanity could just collectively lose their marbles so long ago. What had happened for us to deem all other life below us in such a demeaning and infantilizing way?
The Russu were a race of tall, muscle-bound Saurians with avian features, and Koraak was no exception: reaching almost seven feet in height and weighing over four hundred and fifty pounds, he could be an absolute menace if he so desired. His skin was covered in stubby, knobby scales and dense plumage, with elegant feathers adorning the ridges along his back as well as his forearms, elbows, knees, and the crests on his head. He almost looked like how paleontologists described velociraptors, with razor-sharp talons, feathers shaded in vibrant greens, reds, and purples, and a maw full of sharp teeth, but at the tip of his snout was a sharp, beak-like growth meant for ripping flesh off the bone.
The Russu were strange as hell, but they also looked almost cute in the same way a fully grown alligator was cute: they were obviously dangerous, but humans would always have this innate desire to anthropomorphize them and to pet them for some inexplicable reason, although common sense usually prevented that, at least amongst the very few of us left that were sane.
"Shut up, Troy! All I'm saying is that that'll be rough, and you know it," hissed Cinder. Cinder was a tall black man whose coffee-colored skin was covered in tattoos. He wore an ebony mechanic's jumpsuit with metal inserts underneath his grimy overcoat covering his body and a faded black respirator on his face. His eyes were a startling blue that seemed sorely out of place, and his hair was braided into thick cornrows along his scalp. He wore a pair of heavy black combat boots and palmed his compact shotgun in his hands, the square barrel less than seven inches. Like a lot of the weapons the Black Mambas carried on their persons and dealt in, they fired caseless ammunition; in Cinder's case it was 16x40mm caseless shotshells filled with depleted uranium micro-flechetes no thicker than a toothpick. Cinder nervously fiddled with the detachable tube magazine underneath the barrel, his hands shaking. Despite the shit I have him, I didn't blame him for being anxious: I was anxious too, even if I refused to show it. The biting cold of unease and pessimism was in my stomach, and I ran all the way that this job could go wrong in my head over and over.
"Just hold yourself together, this ain't anything we haven't done before, there's just more of it," I reassured Cinder, "besides, we're not alone; we have reinforcements across the street. We'll make it out of this alive."
Cinder nodded almost absentmindedly, his eyes downcast and his breathing shallow. I turned from him and back to Koraak, who was making sure he had everything on his person; he had a synthetic leather bandoleer across his chest that contained the heavy eight guage depleted uranium slugs he kept loading and unloading into his much larger, longer, and more traditional shotgun he nicknamed ‘carnage’ and several leather straps that held his Tu'shan daggers: traditional Russu pyramidal blades forged from a silvery alloy with all three edges serrated and the tip barbed to leave behind horrible, gaping wounds that gushed blood. They were wickedly sharp and absolutely straight like a stiletto, and the hilts and pommels were beautifully decorated. He wore no clothes underneath his overcoat to cover the countless scars and blemishes he's earned in combat across his chest and abdomen, and instead of a normal respirator or visor, he simply wore a hood over his head and some traditional Russu facial armor to protect his mouth, eyes, and cheeks.
"You ready to fight, Koraak? The caravan will pick up and leave soon."
Koraak was silent for a moment before nodding, a human gesture he had picked up after serving as a soldier with the Black Mambas for years. "I'm always ready to fight," he said before lifting up his shotgun and aiming down the sights at the reinforced front wheels of the first armored car in the caravan. He exhaled and fired, the slug ripping through both front tires and causing them to deflate and fall apart. The echo of the shot rang through the alleyway and the street, causing pedestrians to panic and flee the scene as heavily armored guards poured out of the side doors of the armored cars and unholstered their carbines.
"Go, now!" I shouted, and both me and Cinder rushed out into the fray, our guns raised. Koraak was right behind the two of us, providing covering fire with his shotgun. Several guards fell quickly, Koraak's precise fire and the sheer force of the depleted uranium slugs putting them down for good as their heads were vaporized or their chest cavities were turned to mush. He emptied the tube with one final shot that painted the grey matter of a security guard on the door of one of the armored cars, then racked the shotgun and expertly loaded it in threes, his hands deft and agile as he reached for more slugs faster than any human.
With the cacophony of our initial assault, more Black Mambas poured out from the alleyways and the subways, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons; shotguns, submachine guns, pistols, machetes, baseball bats, and all manner of homemade explosives. Molotovs and more potent concoctions shattered against the asphalt, herding in the caravan guards with their volatile contents as they were quickly gunned down. The assault was working, and we were winning.
Then I heard the robotic whine of a combat droid activating, and my heart sank. One of the armored cars in the back activated the four combat droids it held, the robotic assault units detaching from their charging ports on the sides of the large van and began to form up, each armed with a terrifying array of deadly weapons meant to quash any and all resistance. They were blocky, soulless, utilitarian things that stood at eight feet tall, with flat feet meant for stomping and blades, grasping claws designed to lacerate flesh and shatter bone. On each shoulder was a weapon: on the left was a multi-barrel rotary grenade launcher loaded with 15mm concussion grenades, and on the right was a burst-fire splinter cannon. They were all painted a dull grayish-green, the color of Halcyon's Security Division, although some had a few decorations on them: the one closest to me had a bit of graffiti on the side that said Mr. Hugs in Comic Sans, which I couldn't decide whether that made it more or less terrifying. They split up without hesitation and began to scan the chaotic battlefield, their single, red, beady lenses the security forces had the gall to call eyes focusing on specific targets to eliminate.
An entire group of Black Mambas was torn to pieces by a cloud of flechettes as one of the droids fired a withering three-round burst of shotshells from the four gauge splinter cannon mounted on its shoulder. Another picked up a Black Mamba in its hand and crushed her skull effortlessly before tossing her limp body to the side, its single, red, remorseless robotic eye tracking a new target. Most bullets that struck their thick armored chassis simply bounced off, and those that could pierce the armor didn't seem to phase the droids whatsoever, merely notifying them of a new potential target.
"Damnit," I shouted as I gunned down another guard only for two more to take his place. "Cinder! We gotta pop open the cars and scram! Get the maglock cutters!"
Cinder rushed and slid over through a dirty puddle, pulling out a maglock cutter from the inside of his coat and slipping it onto the back door of the first van. It immediately went to work, drilling through the maglock with a high-powered plasma torch nozzle, and within ten seconds we heard the telltale clunk of the maglock separating. I yanked the door open and ordered I side, ready to escort the prisoners out… only for my face to contort in shock and horror.
The back was empty. There was not a single soul inside of the back brig of the armored car.
"What the fuck…" Cinder gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "What the actual fuck… what the fuck is this, Troy?"
"I… I don't…" I stuttered the sounds of battle and carnage drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in my ears. All five cars were supposed to be filled with recently captured Russu from the front lines ready to be housed in the local Xenopet-Megaplex for processing and conditioning. The fact that this one was empty…
Suddenly, it all hit me at once with the force of a freight train, but it was too late. "We were set up, Cinder; our fucking client either squealed or was crooked to begin with…"
"Fucking bitch!" Cinder shouted as he spun around in an enraged arch, anger growing in his eyes. He aimed his shotgun at an approaching security guard and reduced his upper body to a fine red mist with a cacophony of shotgun blasts. "We gotta get everyone who's left out of here! Do you know what this means? The Jurors will be here soon, and then we're all going down! We gotta go, fuck the job!"
I grit my teeth. Not the Jurors, anything but the Jurors.
"Fine, gather everyone who's left and we'll slip through the sewers, the droids are too bulky to follow us there…"
As I spoke, my eyes wandered to the seventh and final armored car, the second of the droid cars, and my blood froze. Not only were all four ports empty, but they were also smaller and more shallow than the ports for the combat droids. That could only mean one thing.
"Oh fuck! Cinder, we gotta get our Russu members out of here! They've got arachnid droids!"
Arachnid droids were the stuff of nightmares. Resembling blocky, robotic arachnids the size of a manhole cover, they were specifically designed to take down sentient aliens, specifically the Russu, using sickeningly non-lethal means. They were equipped with full-body adaptive cloaking to blend in with their environments, paralytic agents that they could inject into their victims, built-in taser barbs, psychedelic gas ports for crowd-control, and a narrow-coned cacophony canon that disabled the Russu using incredibly high-pitched sounds that only they could hear, forcing them onto their knees and clutching the backs of their heads where their auditory organs were stored in agony. But worst of all was their stygian spinnerets: special ports near the end of their robotic abdomens that excreted a viscous, latex-like substance made up of millions of nano-bots. This substance could be used to render Russu blind, deaf, and mute by having it forced onto their faces, the black substance growing and enveloping their heads and working its way into every orifice. It was completely permeable to the standard atmosphere, but any Russu who had been 'webbed' was completely helpless and essentially captured, and the 'webbing' was both nearly indestructible and nigh impossible to remove without a triple-encrypted override key that was found in every arachnid droid's code, which was corrupted when the droid was destroyed or hacked into. Once you were 'webbed', you were essentially captured and the standard protocol was to leave you to the wolves since the nano-bots could be tracked, endangering the entire gang.
I turned just as I heard the deafening sound of Koraak discharging his shotgun, and I saw him squaring off against one of the assault droids. The droid has obviously been programmed to not use lethal force against Russu if possible, as instead of simply killing Koraak with it's shoulder-mounted splinter cannon, it approached with its claws extended, blades retracted. Koraak continued to back away and fire, pumping the droid full of depleted uranium slugs, its armor crumbling inward as the slugs pierced its chassis and damaged its internal cyberstructure. Eventually, Koraak ran out of slugs and instinctively reached to his bandoleer only to find that he had no more shells left at all, and he drew one of his knives and his sidearm, a simple high-caliber handgun. He tried to take down the droid with his handgun, but the bullets didn't even seem to affect the droid upon penetration, it's claws still extended as it attempted to apprehend Koraak.
In the corner of my vision, as I watched Koraak battle with the droid, I noticed a faint shimmer in the air on one of the black streetlight poles that was right behind him. I focused on it and blinked, believing my eyes had deceived me for a moment before realizing that it was actually a cloaked arachnid droid stalking Korvaak, ready to pounce and incapacitate him.
Before I could shout, it leaped from the pole and landed on Korvaak, causing him to shout in surprise while it began to coagulate its horrifying stygian webbing to disable Korvaak. Korvaak tried to wrestle it off of him, but the droid was agile and fast, clinging onto Korvaak and skittering around across his upper body as he attempted to grab it, forcibly wrapping the sticky black liquid across his face as he gagged like a spider wrapping up a fly. I rushed towards him to try and help, but I felt pain explode in my ribs as I was struck with the arm of the closest combat droid and launched into the chassis of a parked car, the metal denting from the sheer force of impact. I groaned in pain as I saw stars and my head spun, and just then I felt a blinding light be cast over me.
“Drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head, or you will be pacified with deadly force!” Shouted a loud, artificially deepened voice from above. “I repeat, drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head! Neither hostility nor hesitation will be tolerated!”
It was the Jurors, I could feel the air being pushed around from the thrusters on their drop ships, and I could hear screams and shouts as my fellow Black Mambas were quickly gunned down. I couldn’t see well since I was seeing double, but I could hear the slaughter as my eyes dimmed and I began to lose consciousness, my regrets crawling up my throat like vomit.
I’m sorry was all I could think as everything finally went dark, and the sounds of chaos, destruction, and combat faded away.
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Memory halted due to loss of consciousness. Booting next available memory in shard…
Booting up memory scan: Koraak Tel-Char Bruno, November 5th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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“Good morning, sleepyhead; it’s time for breakfast.”
My eyes shot open. I was not in the street anymore, nor was I home in my bed with my mate. I knew instantly that something was horribly wrong. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t gain the leverage to do so: my ankles had been shackled together with magnetic cuffs and my arms were forced together in front of me.
I was wearing some kind of thick shirt. It was warm, fluffy, and comfortable on the inside, but it still made me incredibly uncomfortable that my arms didn’t have a free range of motion. I looked down to see that I was wearing some human garment I had heard about before, a straightjacket maybe?
The entire room was padded: the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. There was no bed or furniture; the floor was soft enough to serve as a bed in itself. There was nothing else except for the soft reddish-orange lights on the ceiling that somehow made me sleepy. I blinked slowly for a moment, my body screaming at me to just lay back down and lose consciousness, but I couldn’t do that: I needed to figure out where I was and how to escape.
Then I noticed who was speaking to me: it was a short human female, with crow's feet around her blue eyes, blonde hair braided down her back, and freckles all over her face. She had a soft smile on her lips, and her forehead was slightly crinkled. She wore a full-body white lab suit with a white overcoat and a pair of glasses for snugly on her face.
"There we go, now I can see those pretty eyes, such a beautiful shade of teal," she cooed softly, "You're such a handsome boy, even with all those scars: I'm sure you'll be adopted very quickly once we get you fixed up."
Fear gripped my heart as I began to piece all the evidence together. I had been captured; I was no longer on Halcyon, and instead, I was in one of the horrific space-born facilities I had heard so much about from the inside agents. I started to hyperventilate and squawk like a newborn hatchling, my eyes dilating in panic. This couldn't be happening! This has to be a nightmare!
The human woman merely wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into an embrace, cradling my head under her chin and speaking softly. I couldn't bite at her or claw at her: I was muzzled and wearing a straight jacket, so I had no choice but to allow her to coddle me.
"It's okay, sweetheart: I understand you're scared, but Julie's here to make all the pain and bad thoughts go away," she said as if she was comforting a child, which made anger blossom in my chest indignantly. "I'll be your caretaker for the next few months, and I'm going to make sure you're healthy, happy, and most importantly safe while you're under our care. I'm sorry to say that includes your restraints and restrictive clothing, but we have to make sure you aren't a threat to yourself or others before we can determine if it's a good idea to remove you from suicide watch."
I growled under my muzzle. Suicide watch? They must have had a lot of instances of Russu taking their own lives after being captured, something I wished I had been able to do before that damnable droid launched itself onto me and…
I shuddered at the thought of the black, viscous substance forcing itself into my nostrils and down my throat and windpipe, gagging me and rendering me completely helpless. It was so cold, so harsh, like slime, and when I had tried to tear it off of my face it merely attached itself to my claws and bound my talons together. I remember squirming on the ground as it enveloped me, unable to see, hear, or speak, and then everything went dark in an instant. It was the most horrible thing I had ever experienced, which was saying something.
"You alright, sweetheart? Oh, I know, you're probably hungry! Here, try some of this." She held up a piece of what looked like raw bacon and wiggled it in front of me before reaching out to remove my muzzle. In an instant, I attempted to snap at her only for pain to blossom in my forehead and my eyes to roll up in my head as I convulsed. It was like something was attempting to drill through my skull from the inside, and every breath felt empty and labored.
"Now, that didn't feel very nice, did it? This is why we have countermeasures in place because we can't trust you yet, sweetheart! Don't worry, we'll work on breaking you of all those bad behaviors and habits while you're here; after all, a well-trained pet is a happy pet!" She began to stroke the crests on my head as I slowly recovered, and she snugly fit the muzzle back onto my snout. "But I won't hold it against you this time, sweetheart; you're just scared and confused, but I'll make all the pain go away."
I struggled in the straight jacket, trying my best to break out of it, but it was no use. Eventually, I became exhausted and despondent, allowing my new caretaker to have her way with me as she gently ran her fingers through my feathers and along my ridges, quietly speaking to me in a hopeless attempt to cheer me up. She seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being, which concerned me even further: who could be this naturally twisted while attempting to be as benevolent and kindhearted as possible?
I felt the pain and terror build up in my chest, the anxiety from what horrific activities I imagined they had planned for me here. I couldn't take the infantilization, the lack of any autonomy, the dehumanization, and what I feared the most was if the rumors of 'rebirth' were true: would they take my personhood from me?
Suddenly, I felt her whisper to me. "Don't worry sweetheart, I know you're so scared and confused, but I promise you everything will be okay: it's going to be your birthday soon, and then everything will get better." She ran her fingers through the feathers along my crest lovingly. "It will be such a wonderful day, and then we'll choose for you the most wonderful family, and you'll spend the rest of your life happy in your forever home! Doesn't all of that sound wonderful?"
I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I didn't want to lose myself, not like this, not to these monsters!
"It'll be your birthday soon," she said wistfully as if she was remembering similar events to this in the past like I wasn't the first she'd done this too, "and you'll never be sad again."
I realized that I wasn't the first the stay in this particular cell, and I knew for certain that I wouldn't be the last: I'd end up like my brother, a broken, erased mess of a pathetic creature, reduced to nothing more than a pet for these humans to amuse themselves with.
"We took the liberty of picking out a nice name for you, sweetheart! Now, let me just slip this little programming chip into the port slot on your occipital bone, and... there we go! It will also help you calm down a bit and adjust."
I felt the chip begin to invade my mind, suppressing my thoughts. What made me me was slowly being ripped out of my mind. I couldn't remember my name my name is Bruno, and I needed to get out! I can't let them do this to me! Somebody help me! I was a good boy.
##Do not think. You are a good boy.##
I tried to scream, but my voice wouldn't work: I had trouble forming any words at all, the confusion clouding my mind like wet, slimy eels curling around my brain and sinking their teeth into its folds like needles. I couldn’t scream any longer, because I had nothing left: the chip was slowly beginning to take everything from me, robbing me of my identity and branding a new one into my psyche with a white-hot iron. Julie simply held me close, attempting to reassure me as I awaited the inevitable demise of my personhood. Soon I would be just like my brother: erased. My mind would be shaped into the mind of a loyal plaything, like a Dog.
##Relax. Allow caretaker [Julie] to comfort you. You will let go of your burden.##
Soon, everything was a blur. I quickly found myself resting my head in her lap as she whispered to me and fed me, my eyes bleary and my head fuzzy. I couldn't remember my name anymore My name was Bruno, and I needed to break free from this trance relax, and allow her to help me; good boys didn't resist help.
##Good Boy. Do not think. You are a good boy.##
You can't... I...
##Good boy.##
I wouldn't… good boys don't… I…
##Good boy##
I was a good boy… I was a good boy…
I was… I was… a good… boy…
Someone help me, please! I don't want to be erased!
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The following script is from episode #343 of Halcyon After Dark, a popular late-night and current events talk show hosted by Melinda Carter. This specific episode was sponsored in part by the Halcyon Security Division, with Director Lochlin O'Brien joining as a guest star to talk about the changing crime statistics in Halcyon City and the HSD's recent successes in busting organized crime as well as their plans for addressing the growing criminal underworld.
MC: Good evening Halcyon! I'm your host, Melinda Carter, and you're watching Halcyon's most popular late-night talk show, Halcyon After Dark!
The crowd claps and cheers as Melinda walks on stage and sits behind her desk, her glittering red dress waving as she does so from the special effects.
MC: Tonight we have a very special guest here to tell us about the state of crime in the city and his plans on resolving it: please put your hands together for the HSD's very own Director, Lochlin O'Brien!
The crowd cheers some more as HSD Director Lochlan O'Brien, a tall, muscular, caucasian male in his early forties with red hair and a well-trimmed beard steps into the room, waving at the crowd with a bright smile. He sits in the armchair angled next to Melinda's desk and gives her his full attention.
MC: It's so good to have you on the show, Director! Tell me, how are you doing on this fine evening?
LO: I'm doing excellent, Melinda: every day I wake up feeling fulfilled knowing I'm serving Halcyon to the best of my abilities and then some."
MC: That's the spirit, Director! Now, I know this question is just on everyone's lips, so I have to ask: how successful was the recent gang bust? I heard HSD forces took out dozens of gang members and liberated at least a dozen Russu Hounds from their abusive clutches, but I know that everyone in the audience and at home wants to know the numbers.
LO: I'd be glad to tell you, but I do have to preface this by saying that we still lost a lot of good officers that day, and while we did strike a crippling blow to one of Halcyon's biggest gangs, it doesn't change the fact that each death is a tragedy, and we're taking steps to prevent them in the future. That being said, those valiant officers did not sacrifice themselves in vain: we had over a dozen confirmed kills and several arrests, including the rescue of several corrupted Russu hounds.
MC: That's excellent, Director: proof that even when the number of degenerates and scum grow by the day, the HSD will always be here to keep the citizens of Halcyon safe.
LO: Absolutely, Melinda, and we're always working tirelessly to increase the efficiency and effectiveness of our units, as well as racing to stay several steps ahead of the many gangs of Halcyon at all times. My newest goal as Director is to vastly increase the funding given to our Robotics Department and our Neuro-Warfare Department to potentially reduce the number of casualties we may experience in the future, as well as to quickly and effectively detain, and if necessary, eliminate criminals. Within the next decade, I want to double the number of automated units each Security Platoon is assigned: droids are the future of public safety as well as countless other industries, and it would be foolish to be left behind.
MC: That is quite a lofty goal, Director: what about the displaced jobs from the increased automation? What will the union say?
LO: And to that, I say: what misplaced jobs? We aren't replacing our honored and beloved service members with droids, Melinda, we are simply supplementing our units with more droids to ensure that future gang assaults end with fewer HSD casualties and more gang members in prison or eliminated, simple as that.
MC: That makes much more sense, Director, thanks for clarifying. Now, I have one more question that I'm sure much of Halcyon wants to know the answer to before we take a short break: what plans do you and your fellow directors have to make long-term progress in reducing crime beyond just increasing funding? Have you proposed any plans to strike at the source of where crime and degeneracy flourish?
OL: That's an excellent question, and one I am proud to answer: my constituents and I have been working tirelessly on a two-step plan to greatly reduce crime levels in Halcyon. Step one would be to prevent people from becoming criminals and degenerates at all in the first place: a lot of young men and women, but especially young men, have lost either one or both parents or even a sibling, aunt or uncle, or even a close friend by the brutality of the Second Authority War, and while the service of their lost loved ones will always be recognized and honored, many of these young men and women are left bitter, angry and lost without the guidance these people give them in their lives. Oftentimes they seek to fill that void with others who claim to relate to them: career criminals. These criminals will fill their heads with lies and false narratives to make them feel like they're fighting back against the 'evil protectorate government' that took their loved ones from them by sending them off to war when in reality it was the rogue Xenopets of the Triarchy that took them away by resisting their just and inevitable unburdening.
In response, I have proposed a slew of special programs that will make sure local law enforcement and HSD officers are present and contributing to their local community, and we'll be providing easy and light job openings for youngsters and teens looking to make a career for themselves in the force when they grow up. We want to let these lost souls know that there are people who care about them, people who understand them and that you shouldn't turn to degeneracy to feel fulfilled. We want to help the youth of our great society soar to new heights!
MC: That sounds like a wonderful beginning to your plan, Director, but what about the second step?
LO: Well, the second step is to prevent criminals and degenerates from becoming repeat criminals. Sure, they've made their mistakes, some worse than others, but they're only human like the rest of us. Some of them have been through hell: some are traumatized veterans who don't know how to adapt to normal life, others were recruited when they were young and don't know that there's a better way to live, and even more are mentally ill. We're alone in this galaxy, and we can't leave so many people behind. That's why we've come up with an excellent solution: we've set up isolated communities on distant moons and frontier planets where these criminals can be reeducated, rehabilitated, and allowed to repay their debt to society. When they're deemed 'reformed' and have graduated from our program, they'll be granted a hefty stipend and their criminal record will be deemed irrelevant, allowing them to reintegrate and become functioning members of our proud society.
MC: all of these sound like incredible steps forward in the fight to better our society and make real progress, Director. Sadly, we do have to step away for a moment, but you best believe I'll be back, Halcyon, and we'll be asking the Director here some burning questions about allegations over the quality of life Erubus Supermax! Now, a word from our sponsors!
Halcyon Xenopet-Megaplex! Everything your xenopet could ever need in one place! Adoption is now free-
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Good, you’re still alive! The rest of this shard appears to be corrupted, which means this particular trail seems to have run cold here, but do not despair; you need to keep searching. Find out what happened. Find the truth.I cannot guide you any longer: they've already found me, and if I remain in contact with you they'll find you as well. Take the archival database, and see what you can piece together. Maybe if we discover what truly happened we can put an end to this madness once and for all. I'm counting on you. Don't cry for me, I don't fear death, but I fear what they'll do to me to get to you: there are far worse fates than death, after all.

Hi, new to posting on reddit. Also on mobile so I'm sorry about formatting.
I was in an almost 11 yr relationship until October 2023. I found out March 2022 that my now ex had cheated on me with our housemate of 8ish months when she stormed out of my birthday bbq, drunkenly yelling "I would be a better gf than [me]" The next day he admitted that not only had he cheated with her, he had also cheated from about July to December back in 2017 with another (who he trickle truthed name/details etc and I still think he lied because the later mentioned mutual friend hinted that it might have been her). And I found out that the only reason he admitted it was because 2nd AP threatened to if he didn't when he and the 2nd AP had "deleted all the message threads because it would hurt too much for me to see them". The other key phrases that stuck with me are "I didnt think it would hurt you this much", "I did it because you wouldnt give me what I needed" (a bit of context: the first affair happened when my company had a big management upheaval resulting in mass resignations, leaving me basically running what was supposed to be a 10-15 person department with myself, an admin assistant, a half trained technician and my apprentice, doing 16+ hour days and still coming home looking after kids, homework etc. Having regular full blown anxiety attacks, a kidney infection and a bad reaction to anxiety meds (leaving me unable to string a sentence together for days afterwards) I also lost my father in the time before the affairs came to light. The other part that stuck with me was that he kept using 3-10 repetitions of new behaviour as "see, I've changed" only to stop again until I brought up that he had stopped again. I realised it was short term change to manipulate me into staying.
I tried to forgive, I think I succeeded, I no longer wish harm on him or that the fleas of a thousand camels infest his crotch and his arms be too short to scratch, but i failed to forget (which he expected) and he failed to show consistent, reliable change and effort in the repair of our relationship. My final straw was when I realised I had explained to him that saying he would change and not doing anything towards making those words matter, was manipulation and felt like he didn't care enough to change, dozens of times, and his consistent response was "but I'm doing therapy, why isn't it good enough" and then bringing home this gem from his therapist "my therapist says my actions are emotionally mature and you just keep changing the goal posts" . On top of that were the "I loved you even when I was with [AP's]", and "I do respect you". I couldnt deal with the emotional manipulation of "I guess I'm just a horrible husband" anymore.
I broke it off, we were still in the same house, separate bedrooms until he realised I was serious and refused to spend couple time with him, so he moved out with his mate. He said I could stay in our house with my kids (previous relationship) until I had my house ready. He later changed his mind and kicked me and my 2 teens out because he "couldn't control who went into HIS house" as well as abandoning his dog (he loves you more than me) with my 2 dogs making it doubly hard to find a rental (we had agreed he got that house if I got a block of land we owned and the money to build on it) because a mutual friend told him she'd seen a guy at the house. The guy... was one of my best friends husbands friend. He tagged along to keep the husband company while I therapy drank (like 3 standard drinks, mostly just crying, and venting) with my friend. (I did end up dating the friend a month or so after all of this went down and he and I are so similar its like we've known each other forever... but not the point lol)
He dragged out the property settlement by changing stuff, he tried to lie about when we separated (tried saying July 2023 instead of October despite us still living together but in separate rooms), and he still hasn't actioned some of the agreement and we have 2.5 weeks left til the agreed date. He tried to "stay friends" and tried to hug me everytime he saw me... (he would stop by regularly while i was packing to "grab something") it got to the point where I asked him to let me know in advance if he wanted to grab something and I would vacate for the duration. If he turned up unannounced I would just ignored him like he didn't exist and he finally accepted that I was done.
I had already grieved the relationship after I found out he cheated, and multiple times afterwards when i got my hopes up again. Flat out told him he wasn't the man I loved, as the man I loved couldn't hurt me like he had. I communicated that I was staying to give him a chance to be someone I could love, to show me change that would make me feel safe and emotionally connected, (Personally amused by his response to that "you can't have loved me as much as I loved you if you can stop loving me so easily") and that it would need to be a whole new relationship, not fixing the old. Start entirely from scratch, honesty, loyalty, respect being the most important things to build. He disagreed but said he agreed and just did his own thing anyway.
I've been in my rental for 3-ish months now, separated for 7, and havent seen him for 2, I think. Recently though, I've been struggling with triggers and self sabotage/depression. I KNOW, 100%, that I made the right decision. I dont miss him. I dont hate him, if anything I kind of pity him for his weakness. I've always had to be the strong one, make the hard decisions, hell he supposedly didn't even realise that sharing our private relationship issues with another person you are attracted to was cheating...
On to today, I saw him in the shopping centre, with someone else and it hurt. Not because I miss him... but I'm guessing because the feelings of not being worthy of loyalty welled up. The feeling of being just one option in three instead of the ONLY. The "why wasn't I good enough?" The accepting him for exactly who he showed himself to be, but I wasn't enough for him. (Granted his 'who he showed me' wasn't the real him, it was a carefully cultivated mask to appeal to me specifically while he silently resented everything he expected but did not communicate, and got annoyed that I didn't mind read it from him)
Thankfully the "he wasn't good enough for me, so why do i feel this way" came back pretty quickly this time but it all just left me feeling hurt, confused and lost. I feel like my hurt is a betrayal to new guy I'm dating and that it's disloyal to feel this way. It feels wrong to admit that it hurt. I didn't deserve what he did to me, so why does it hurt all these months later? I deserve to be happy, but just seeing him in a shopping centre is enough to bring back the hurt, scared, version of me, I thought I was well into healing.
I feel like i just need to share this with people who have been in similar situations and hope someone has advice for me. No matter how much I sit in the feelings, I know it's not regret. It's not "I wish I could go back". Its hard to define.
I also use music to help me when I'm in this place, if anyones got recommendations (ps Me by Kelly Clarkson usually helps, great song) Thanks for reading, it was helpful just to write this out, even if no one replies.

This has got to be one of the most moronic things I’ve read all day:
https://www.threads.net/@brooksanthonycounselopost/C7mTtXMMmBN/
Basically a male counselor notices that young men are complaining to him that women are matching with them on dating apps but are only replying with one or two words. He confirms this is true.
THEN, our brilliant counselor surmises that these women (who have been yapping communicating non-stop since two years old) actually are bad at communicating which is why they don’t know how to reply to men.
When will we stop with the lies and bullshit we tell men the truth?
Most women aren’t interested in you. Most women are interested in the top 10-20% of men. And if you’re in the top 5%, they’ll actually pursues you.
So no it’s not that women are bad at communicating, they’re just not interested in you. But they like the attention and wanting to be wanted so they will manipulate unattractive men to pursue them, buy them free dinner, tell them how attractive they are, and basically eat out and worship their dirty assholes. They’re playing mind games with you and wanting you to chase them so they can feel validation. But they have no intention of taking you serious.
And honestly is one of the few posts I think I am end with “same goes for men also” - though unlike the 90% of women who partake in these mind games, only the 5% of men have the status to get away with playing these mind games.

VEHICLE VOLTRON I: THE MIGHTIEST OF SAVIORS RISE
written by Robert D.C. Barnes III (PeachLover94)
Inspired by "Voltron: Defender of the Universe" created for World Events Productions
by Peter Keefe, John Teichmann and Toei Animation
Based on "Armored Fleet Dairugger XV" created for Toei Animation
by Saburo Yatsude (Kozo Morishita, Masahisa Saeki, Keisuke Fujikawa,
and Shigemitsu Taguchi)
TREATMENT: 07-21-2017 2006.cosmo@gmail.com
NOTE: This proposal is the property of New Frontier Cinema (PeachLover94's production company) produced in partnership with World Events Productions (WEP LLC) and Toei Company, Ltd. Any unlicensed exhibition, copying or redistribution without written consent of the mentioned parties is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.
Vehicle Voltron I: The Mightiest of Saviors Rise Story Treatment
The Logline
In the Near Universe, an experimental carrier-battleship hybrid starship under the command of fifteen crack space explorers from the Galaxy Alliance of Earth comes under assault by the evil Drule Empire. On a faraway planet, they find fifteen vehicles which combine into the evil-fighting giant humanoid robot - Vehicle Voltron.
Main Characters
1) JEFF ♂ - Pilot of the Command Jet Explorer #1 which forms the head of Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Jeff Aki Manabu. Being the leader of the entire Vehicle Voltron Force and commander of the Air Team, Jeff is head-strong, occasionally quick-tempered, yet still a great fighter and a very capable leader, even if he does not always follow the rules. During his time at Galaxy Alliance Academy, Jeff was one of the first to ever beat the no-win scenario test entitled the G.A.S. Zodiac simulation - by reprogramming the simulation to make it possible to rescue the ship and its people. A major source of contention with his peers in the Sea Team's Krik and Land Team's Cliff is Jeff's continuous scoffs at no-win scenarios trying to one-up his older sister Janet.
2) KRIK ♂ - Pilot of the Communications Module #6 which forms the torso midriff section of Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Krik Miranda Keats. Hailing from the water planet of Dulcinea (Mu Arae c) with a light blue skin tone and pointed ears, Krik is appropriately the leader of the Sea Team. Speaking with an alien dialect (which can be approximated to possibly being played by an Indian), he has clairvoyant powers that tells him when something bad happens or will happen. Of the five members of the Sea Team, it is Krik who keeps a cool head and is quick-thinking when situations call for it – particularly when he is at the receiving end of a gun or when the security of Voltron Force is compromised. He will often share drinks with the others in victory times.
3) CLIFF ♂ - Pilot of the Jet Radar Station #11 which forms the lower torso and hips of Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Walter Clifford Jack. An accomplished sportsman and former racing driver who won many circuits in Australian touring car championships before joining the Galaxy Alliance, he can at times be bad-tempered and reckless. Cliff studied at Sydney University before transferring to Galaxy Alliance Academy, where his own nigh impetuousness led to a clash with authorities over the launching (and subsequent crash) of an unsanctioned rocket he built. Hawkins took charge of the situation, steering the interest toward constructive ends, with Cliff now serving with the Vehicle Voltron Force's Land Team. But sometimes he misses the old days of his racing.
4) ZANDEE ♂ - Pilot of the Multi-Wheeled Explorer #10 forming the left lower leg of Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Zandee Barros Carateja. Born to a Boston astronomer father and Brazilian mother, Zandee is boyishly handsome, still long in the process of maturing. An unusual combination, he has inherited from his father the mathematical ability and navigation sense from his mother. He is a phenomenally brilliant mathematician and space theorist. But he has also inherited his mother's Latin temperament, fighting what is his perpetual and highly personalized battle with his technology, suspecting that space is engaging in a gargantuan conspiracy to make his professional and personal life as difficult and uncomfortable as possible in both life and love.
5) CHIP ♂ - Pilot of the blue Advanced Recon Helicopter #4 forming the left upper arm of the Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Chipley Yasuo Mutsu Stoker, and the twin brother of Darrell Hiroshi Suzuishi "Pidge" Stoker or "Pidge I", the first Paladin of Lion Voltron's Green Lion of Forest. Chip is very much the youngest member at 13 of the Vehicle Voltron Force. He can best be described as the brains of the Vehicle Voltron Force, much like his brother Pidge I is or will be to the Lion Voltron Force in the Denubian Galaxy (Far Universe). When he is not tinkering with inventions or fawning over technology and displays of data, Chip spends most of his time with Rocky in trying to find suitable soul mates for Jeff, Cliff and Krik so that they can keep all their stress down.
6) MARVIN ♂ - Pilot of the yellow All-Terrain Space Vehicle #14 which forms the right foot of Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Marvin Tasuku Izu. A good friend of Hutch's since childhood and both being members of the Land Team, the two can often be seen together, either playing cards or brawling with each other. Marvin is usually comedic, with his sense of humor being on par with that of Shannon and Cliff's in riling up Jeff and Krik. During most of the operations the Vehicle Voltron Force takes part in, Marvin's specialist expertise is in Demolition, Heavy Lifting and Logistics which he sometimes cracks jokes that are sometimes inappropriate only because he is able to do it so well for such a long time. But his jokes have even started to bug Lance.
7) GINGER ♀ - Pilot of the Falcon Jet Fighter #5 which forms the chest plate of Vehicle Voltron. Her full name is Patricia Ginger Ellington. She is a strong and brave pilot, who has always tried to fight the good fight and to this day maintains a distrust of the arrogance of science ever since seeing her family destroyed in an starship crash when she was young. She is smitten towards her Air Team commander Jeff, and the two still maintain a close professional relationship. With that said, she certainly doesn't hide her jealousy when another woman shows any affection towards him, married or otherwise. When not in the heat of battle, Ginger likes to spend her downtime shopping, hanging out with friends, or helping Cinda and Lisa with science and cartography.
8) LISA ♀ - Pilot of the red Space Prober #7 which forms the left thigh of Vehicle Voltron. Her full name is Lisa Haruka Kaga. She is very knowledgeable in ancient cultures, and always seems to know the right thing to say to others. Born on the colony world of New San Diego, Lisa was enamored with the ocean and all its native forms of life at a young age. This led to her entering the 2976 Olympic Games, and at 16 years old, became the youngest human of the Galaxy Alliance era not from Earth to win the Gold medal in the 400 meter backstroke event. Possessing an unyielding affinity for the undersea animals and environment, this makes Lisa a perfect choice for the Vehicle Voltron Force's Sea Team, as she is able to urgently take command if Krik is unable to.
9) CINDA ♀ - Pilot of the Rotating Personnel Carrier #12 which forms the right forearm of Vehicle Voltron. Her full name is Cinda Moya Qiligasz. Like Lisa, she too is kind and emotional, especially when it comes to nature. She is a Dulcinean like Krik, and the two are the main psychics and mystics of the entire Vehicle Voltron Force. It would not show up on Krik's file, but Cinda was often the only friend he had growing up back on Dulcinea, as young Dulcineans have their fears like human children have of monsters under the bed. Krik often had to have his fears reined in by Cinda, who vowed to banish all the monsters from peoples' lives so that they would not have to suffer like both she and Krik had to suffer. Even as an Alliance world, Dulcinea has hard times for Cinda.
10) WOLO ♂ - Pilot of the red Advanced Recon Helicopter #3 forming the right upper arm of Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Shota Wolo Kreutz. He is a blue-skinned Galilean of the Galileo (Kepler-451b) system who is a noted scholar of astronomy and has authored several of the most popular accredited astronomy textbooks in use by the Galaxy Alliance. He is a graduate of the Galileo Polytechnic University with an esteemed Doctorate degree in Advanced Telecommunications. Among his friends, Wolo is known to be exceedingly patient, kindly and gracious and possessive of both great intelligence and poise as the gifts he has inherited from his talented mother through which he is able to take charge at times. The kindness comes from helping raise seven sisters.
11) SHANNON ♂ - Pilot of the Multi-Wheeled Explorer #9 which forms the right lower leg of Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Shannon Tatsuo Izumo Cochrane. During his childhood, he piloted a deep-sea bathyscaphe to investigate marine farming methods in making food production on various worlds possible. Of all the Vehicle Voltron Force, Shannon tries to keep things from getting too serious by becoming the funny one, which gives him a tendency to get into trouble with Jeff and Krik over his flippant sense of humor. Even so, he chooses to fight for nobler causes than himself, as his brother was just taken to be a prisoner of what will be known as the Drule Empire on its tribute vassal world of Galra (Planet Doom) in the Denubian Galaxy (Far Universe).
12) HUTCH ♂ - Pilot of the black All-Terrain Space Vehicle #15 forming the left foot of Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Kazuto Hutch Nagato. A good friend of Marvin's since childhood and both being members of the Land Team, the two can often be seen together, either playing cards or brawling with each other. In contrast to the comedic Marvin, Hutch is a regular tough guy, always looking for a good fight with any Drule that has the guts to challenge him mano e mano. Outside of space missions, Hutch loves to dance, listen to music, and wear the most extravagant clothes around. His strong, muscular build was put to the test during the 2976 Olympic Games, where he won the Gold medal in the weightlifting event to the congratulations of future comrade Lisa.
13) ROCKY ♂ - Pilot of the Strato Weapons Module #2 which forms the upper torso of Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Rockford Kai Shinobu. He is the Brooklyn-accented member of the Air Team, usually described by the Galaxy Alliance and by the Drule Empire as the "Hunk" of the Vehicle Voltron Force, which paints a big target on his back for many of the Drule commanders like the Galvestonian Throk in the Milky Way (Near Universe), the Derinja Bi'Os in the Hyperion Galaxy (Middle Universe) and the Galran Prince Lotor in the Denubian Galaxy (Far Universe). He did not have much family growing up, so the chance to have a spiritual little brother in Chip gives him something missing from his life. He joined the Alliance to be able to make a chart of all the stars.
14) TANGOR ♂ - Pilot of the blue Space Prober #8 which forms the right thigh of Vehicle Voltron. His full name is Saluta Tangor Katz. He is as dedicated to his calling of serving the Galaxy Alliance on Vehicle Voltron Force as any of his shipmates. His off-duty demeanor is at times much less boisterous than most of his male colleagues, indulging in painting and playing the piano. Tangor has, in fact, composed a great deal of lounge tunes on the piano to play so to keep his shipmates relaxed and escape boredom. Some of his tunes he is compiling to be sold as an easy listening album. His and Wolo's species is the blue-skinned Galileans from their planet Galileo (Kepler-451b), who are very noted for their appreciation of the finer arts that speak to the soul about existence.
15) MODOK ♂ - Pilot of the Armored Equipment Carrier #13 which forms the left forearm of Vehicle Voltron. His full given name is Modok MacKenzie "Mack" Chucker. He is one of the few eldest active members of the Vehicle Voltron Force. Stern and serious, Modok focuses on the task at hand above all else. He acknowledges that his gruff approach can lead to conflict with the younger crew, though he always means well, and just is out to ensure their mission is accomplished successfully, safely, and professionally. When not on assignment, Modok is a self-described gentle giant like Rocky from the Air Team who likes to find a secluded spot outside the G.A.S. Explorer/Rugger Guard on planets and spend a day fishing and cooking whatever fish are caught.
16) HAWKINS ♂ - Age: 54. Acting Commander of the Vehicle Voltron Force stationed aboard the new Galaxy Alliance Starship Explorer (the pride of the Galaxy Alliance's project code-named Rugger Guard). His full title is Commander James Shinji Ise Hawkins of the Galaxy Alliance. While it is Commander Hawkins who gives all the orders to the Vehicle Voltron Force, he is Executive Officer who answers to Captain Newley on the mission of the Explorer. When it comes to saving lives, Hawkins is always deadly serious - but subtly cracks a joke every now and then. He's so dedicated to the mission that he constantly remains on assignment, and has very little time for recreation, much to the disappointment of his gentler and relaxed commanding officer Newley.
17) NEWLEY ♂ - Age: 58. Captain of the Galaxy Alliance Starship Explorer who is the Commanding Officer of and a good friend to the Vehicle Voltron Force's Commander Hawkins. His full title is Captain Richard "Dick" Asimov Newley. He regards all the members of the Vehicle Voltron Force as replacements for the son he had lost in battle, and sorely regrets his son's death in battle near planet Likon, along with the apparent death of Jeff's older sister Janet who represented him in court martial over cheating to win the G.A.S. Zodiac scenario, but was lost in a training accident. As a child, he was told of the story of Voltron and became intrigued with the prospect of finding it and bringing it back. Now it seems like that dream shall come true at last down on Likon.
18) PAGE ♂ - Age: 56. Science Officer of the Galaxy Alliance Starship Explorer. Though originally an aerospace engineer (albeit an unsuccessful one), he becomes the ship's primary medical officer. He is good humored and always willing to give advice, but he can become deadly earnest when chiding others' behavior. His full title is Professor Michael Search Page. He frequently sips up coffee whilst moving around speaking at an extremely accelerated rate. Despite his bumbling nature, he is actually very wise and knowledgeable, choosing to learn from mankind's past mistakes so that they won't happen again in the future. Page believes that knowledge is the most powerful weapon from any species' history and seeks the knowledge of the universe for this goal.
The Background
Long in the past of the Milky Way Galaxy, the fifteen-piece fighting humanoid robot known as the Vehicle Voltron was known as Dairugger XV by the peoples of the planets the robot visited. Dairugger XV or Vehicle Voltron was a sentient being, renown across the galaxy for its feats of heroism and bravery. Ultimately, this led to Voltron developing something of an ego, as it challenged both a reincarnated wicked Zaar King Drolmacht Dolmen and the goddess Arcadia to battle it for supremacy. Arcadia, having sensed the egotism brewing in Vehicle Voltron/Dairugger XV out of simple ignorance of its own power and not out of sinister malice, defeated but spared the robot as she pondered what punishment would do it best to teach humility/sportsmanship.
In a rage, the dying King Drolmacht disguised himself as Arcadia and tried to destroy Voltron while succeeding at slaying Arcadia. With her last acts, a mortally injured Arcadia managed to save Vehicle Voltron/Dairugger XV by splitting it back up into its fifteen component space vehicles - five joining into the airborne Strato Fighter the Kurugger, another five forming the submersible Aqua Fighter the Kairugger, and another five forming the ground-hugging Turbo Terrain Fighter or Rikurugger - that when all are combined together form Voltron. They were flung through space until they crash-landed on the uncharted planet known as Likon. It is here that the fifteen vehicles will rest until the arrival of the Zaars' posterity in the form of the Drule Empire of Galveston.
The Premise
Historically, the Vehicle Voltron Force story arc of Voltron: Defender of the Universe was adapted from the 1982 anime series Armored Fleet Dairugger XV - but was adapted to be part of a much bigger storyline. We start the Voltron story as a Asimovian science fiction story that is about how the titular machines came to be, used to solve problems, and how their presence affects people for good or ill. Taking the team of heroes premises of the Japanese Super Sentai/Power Rangers series, the galactic journey of Star Trek, the swashbuckling adventure and journeys of Horatio Hornblower, and the appeal of robots found in both the Gundam and Transformers franchises, Voltron is ready to launch with the debut film of a potential cinematic universe of science fiction.
In this four-quadrant five-act mecha science fiction epic, the Galaxy Alliance Starship Explorer launches from Earth in the year 2981 on its mission to chart the Milky Way Galaxy and to find new planets for the Alliance to colonize or terraform to solve problems of scarce food and water supplies as well as both overpopulation and resource depletion. They are forced to land and make repairs on the planet Likon by the forces of the Drule Empire of Planet Galveston, when fifteen of its primary space explorers find fifteen space-worthy ships able to join together to form the mythical Vehicle Voltron - Defender of the Near Universe. Can they join together to stop a Drule attack that threatens a peaceful planet? It may lead to war, but also a step towards evolution.
The Nemeses (The Galvestonian Drule Empire of Planet Galveston)
Aside from normal human squabbles and quandaries that face teams of people trying to survive in the hostile universe, Vehicle Voltron and its team of pilots have to contend with the new horrible menace threatening the Milky Way Galaxy. Many of the Galvestonian Drules of Planet Galveston (also called the Drule Homeworld) fit the tradition of the classic "empire of evil". Most of the Drules are humanoids with light purple skin and red eyes. With fleets of starfighters and space battleships; as well as armies of tanks, super soldiers and Robeast mecha monsters, Galvestonian Drules are aimed at making the Drule Empire a major if not the superpower in the Milky Way Galaxy controlling hapless innocents, with only the Voltron Forces daring to stand in their way.
1) ZEPPO ♂ - Age: Late 40s/Early 50s. Species: Galvestonian Drule. Homeworld: Galveston (Drule Homeworld). Eye Color: Red. His full title is Emperor Zeppo Corsair of Planet Galveston. Like many a major and admittedly rather incompetent dictator, Zeppo rules the Empire with the fists of iron fury, sending others to do his dirty work and harshly punishing those who fail him. With how abusive and destructive he can be towards his many subordinates on a bad day, it is practically insane that there have not been attempts to overthrow him as of yet. A complete and utter sadist by inclination, Zeppo is willing to send his forces to capture slaves from other worlds and force slaves of his own people to fight to the death. His tyranny is only egged on by his followers.
2) ROBEASTS - Wherever one goes in the Empires of the Drules, there will always be such things as Robeasts to challenge the Voltrons and threaten the peace of the Near, Middle and Far Universes. Robeasts from Galveston (Drule Homeworld) sent to battle the Vehicle Voltron are humanoid monsters created through more advanced science and technology, most often from the prisoners of war that are reared in Zeppo's sadistic gladiatorial combat, though some of them are simply giant robots piloted by Centurion troopers. There is often a platoon of fifteen robeasts ready at a moments notice to travel with fighters, tanks, space battleships and or Centurion armies to lay siege to whatever may get in their Empire's way. The Vehicle Voltron Force must take great care.
3) THROK ♂ - Age: Late 60s. Species: Galvestonian Drule. Homeworld: Galveston (Drule Homeworld). Eye Color: Red. Hair Color: White. His full title is Viceroy Throk Al Caponero. Possibly the worst of the worst, Throk is at bitter ends with Hazar, and the loyalest supporter of Emperor Zeppo. It is often rumored that Throk is the one stroking Zeppo's ego to throw him off the scent of Throk's own attempted bids at becoming Emperor of the Drules. A natural-born kiss-up and backstabber, he lives for nothing more than destroying any "invaders" that could make a pass at the Empire and generally making Hazar and his followers out to look like fools, imbeciles and other pejorative words not to be listed. But it is his lust for power that makes Throk underestimate foes.
4) CENTURIONS - Say hello to the mixed organic and cybernetic shock troopers of the Drule Empire. They all serve as the central backbone of the Drule military forces. Their drones have no built in weapons, instead using the same weapons as their mainly organic counterparts. Drones are capable of squad-level infantry tactics and understanding vocal commands. These androids can somewhat resemble fellow Drules, appearing to wear this green-purple armor. In fact, some of the living soldiers appear identical to their own Drones. In addition, Drule Drones can be used for scouting environments full of every kind of hazards, are more durable, and have no fear of utter destruction to claim victory for Zeppo and the Empire. Some are known to pilot their Robeasts.
5) HAZAR ♂ - Age: 40s. Species: Galvestonian Drule. Homeworld: Galveston (Drule Homeworld). Eye Color: Red. Hair Color: White. His full title is Chief Commander Hazar Dorita Teles of the Galvestonian Drules. Hazar is an athletic fellow, able to dodge and move around quickly to evade attacks. This is despite his large size, topping at about six and a half feet. Unlike most other fleet and army commanders in the Empire of the Drules, Hazar is often a composed and rational figure who never has a bad word to say about any of his underlings. He is his own worst critic, as inside, he frequently doubts himself on whether an action he or the Empire takes is right or at least justifiable. Due to this, Robeasts and Centurions alike find him to be more approachable than Throk.
The Heroes and the Twist
Each member of Vehicle Voltron's three teams (Air, Land and Sea) of a super force of space explorers is meant to be reflective of aspects of ourselves that we all have been at some point in our lives - a class clown, a lone wolf, a young genius, a tough guy who is also a mediator, and that young person destined for life greater than their own backyard. At the beginning of the story, the three team leaders Jeff, Cliff and Krik all function as the Id/McCoy (Cliff), Ego/Kirk (Jeff) and Superego/Spock (Krik) found in the Freudian psyche. It is what they learn from each other that they all have to pass down to the other four members of their respective teams in order to effectively come together and operate Vehicle Voltron to save both the Galaxy Alliance and planet Galateia.

I am not The OOP, OOP is u/Wide-Hamster-7057
I (18F) just found out I have a half sibling.
Originally posted to survivinginfidelity
TRIGGER WARNING: infidelity, manipulation
Original Post May 24, 2024
I (18F) just found out I have a half sibling from my dad and I’m in shock.
My dad and my mom have been happily married for over 30 years. I have a sister who is 21 but as far as I knew, she was my one and only sibling.
Today, my dad asked if I could come by his office and talk to him about something serious. I didn’t take it seriously, because my dad will sometimes call me into his office and nag me about school or just chat with me because he misses me.
From the moment I stepped into his office, I could tell something was wrong. His eyes were bloodshot as if he had just finished crying and he was very quiet. He told me to take a seat and said he had something very serious to tell me. At this point, I thought that he was going to tell me had cancer or that someone had died. Not even close.
He proceeded to tell me that he cheated on my mom 10 years ago and slept with another woman, and that he has a 9 year old daughter, my half sister. She lives across the country with her mother. He said that my mom already knows about everything, but that he hasn’t told my sister yet. My sister is very ‘emotional’ I guess you could say so he thought I would handle the news better than her, since I’m very easygoing and I don’t get upset at things.
At this point, I was kind of in shock because it hadn’t fully processed. He told me her name, and told me that she would be coming this Sunday with her mother. He explained that they were coming so he could sign his daughter’s passport, and that he would love if I could meet her and get to know her. He stressed that it’s not the child’s fault at all, (which I completely understand) and that he would like me to be a part of her life.
He called the girl in front of me just so I could hear her voice, and it absolutely broke my heart when she answered the phone and said “hi daddy”. That was when it definitely became a reality to me. She asked my dad when she would be able to meet ‘her sisters’ and it made me tear up a little bit.
I gave my dad a hug and I told him that I would need some time to process things, but that I love him and this doesn’t change the love I have for him.
Things still haven’t properly processed yet— I feel like it was all sprung onto me so quickly. I’m mad, sad, confused, and disgusted—- I don’t know what to feel. I knew my parents didn’t have a perfect relationship, but this was the last thing I expected.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
When told to support her mom, not her dad

My dad just told me about it yesterday while my mom was at work, I haven’t seen her yet since he broke the news to me. He also told me that it’s a very difficult subject for my mom (which is completely understandable) so I don’t know how to approach talking about it with her.

&

I’m not supporting my dad’s actions, all I did was give him a hug and tell him I still love him. Despite the news I found out, he’s still my dad. Maybe it hasn’t quite processed fully but it’s hard for me to accept that my dad who has been so loving to me and my sister, could do something like this. I am upset and devastated for my mother, but my parents made the decision to stay together despite the affair years ago. What do you want me to do? Am I supposed to slap my dad across the face and call him a dirty cheater, am I supposed to encourage my mother to leave him and move out of the house?
Obviously what my father did is horrible- but there’s very little I can do now but figure out how to process, move forward, and show my support to my mother in a way that won’t rub salt into the wound

Update May 25, 2024
The other day, my dad asked if I could come by his office and talk to him about something serious. He proceeded to tell me that he cheated on my mom during a one-night stand 10 years ago and that he has a 9-year-old daughter, my half-sister, who lives across the country with her mother. My mom has known ever since the woman was pregnant and stayed with him for the sake of me and my sister. He even asked if I could meet his daughter.
When he told me, it didn’t really process in my mind. I gave my dad a hug and told him that I would need some time to process things, but that I love him and this doesn’t change the love I have for him.
Now that it’s processed, it’s really killing me. I’m in distraught.
The woman he cheated with was from his old job, when my family still lived in a different state. You know what breaks my heart? I used to go to that job with my dad all the time, sit on his lap when he filed paperwork, say hi to everyone there—I probably even met the woman a few times. She knew my dad was married. She knew he had kids. My dad knew he was married. My dad knew he had kids.
He said that he only had one child with the woman, and that she has another child, a 6-year-old boy. He told me that the boy is under his name legally, but it’s not his son by blood. I don’t even know if I can believe anything he says anymore. What if he’s still seeing the woman? What if that son is his? How can I believe a cheater?
My mom is one of the most loving, sweetest people in the world. Her kindness and compassion make people love her almost instantly. I don’t understand how or why he would cheat on the woman who loved him unconditionally. Was my mom not enough of a reason for him to stay faithful? Were my sister and I not a good enough reason for him to come home for the night?
I just feel so disgusted. I texted him a series of hateful messages, basically telling him that I’m disgusted and that he ruined my views on what a father is. I used to look up to him, I was so proud to have him as my dad, but now all I can feel is disgust and resentment.
I will never meet his kid. I don’t care. I know it’s not the child’s fault, and maybe I’m being immature, but that child is living proof of the betrayal towards my mom.
I’m not going to let my mom know that I know yet; her health isn’t the best and I don’t want her to have a heart attack from springing it onto her too suddenly.
I can’t be around my dad right now. I feel so unbelievably nauseous whenever I see him. My birthday was next week—I had things planned, but I cancelled it all. I’m gonna be living with my aunt for a little while (my aunt has known about this for years) until I can process this somewhat. My teachers are allowing me to do all my assignments online and I found cover for my job, so I should be set.
If anyone has gone through something similar, please give me advice.
RELEVANT COMMENTS
When told to talk to her aunt, she may know more

I definitely will. My aunt and I can have our disagreements sometimes but one thing I know we share whole heartedly is our love for my mother. My aunt also thinks that the son is his and he’s not telling the truth.
It’s hard for me to remember my parents are actual human beings that make mistakes- but I just don’t understand how my dad could make such a big mistake. I’m gonna stop with the hateful messages and just lay low with my aunt for a while. Seeing him everyday isn’t helping me at all tbh.

~
etakknow

Don’t be pressured in meeting your half-sister. Process your feelings first before doing something you don’t want to do.
Also, don’t believe the words of the cheater. Looks like the affair continued even after the birth of your half-sister, hence the boy. Legally, that’s his son and is entitled to support and inheritance.
Your mother might have not known at all. Or maybe she only knew about the daughter but not the son. Be there for your mom. If I were you, I’ll encourage her to leave your father.

OOP

I truly believe he’s lying to me and everyone else about the son, because then it would prove the affair wasn’t a one time thing like he claims it is.
Thankfully my mom does know about both- a quick debrief with my aunt (her sister not my dad’s) confirmed that she had known ever since the woman was pregnant. My aunt said my mom also suspects that the son is his. The amount of child support he is paying is apparently really high, my aunt said that my mom found a piece of paperwork where he’s paying for both of the children

~
Rush_Is_Right

I'm very confused on why the boy has your father's name, your dad has parental rights/ authority, pays child support or equivalent. Those are all things the bio dad or adoptive dad would do, but it doesn't make sense to trickle truth one kid and not both.

OOP

I’m very confused too. My dad said that he was just helping the woman out since the kid’s father wasn’t in the picture— but I don’t believe it. I have my suspicions that the affair continued afterwards as well and that it is his biological son.

justasliceoghope

That communication confirms that he's continued a relationship with his mistress more than just to co-parent the girl. There is no reason for him to have contact or a relationship with the boy, naming him and financially, if that wasn't his child. If he wasn't still cheating, then he shouldn't have two children with his name getting financial assistance from him. Any financial help he provided outside the daughter would have been taken from your family.
You should definitely speak with your mother and help her if she's not gotten help.

OOP

I don’t even know if I can believe the mistress is in another state as my dad claims. She could a few blocks away from us for all I know. How can I believe anything he says at this point? The trust I had in him is long gone.
When I go to my aunt’s house this coming Monday, I’m going to bring my mom with me. My aunt is gonna be the one to break the news to my mom that I know about everything, so it’s not as hard on her.

THIS IS A REPOST SUB - I AM NOT THE OOP
DO NOT CONTACT THE OOP's OR COMMENT ON LINKED POSTS, REMEMBER - RULE 7

Trigger Warning: This script contains mentions of self harm and suicidal ideation.
This script holds a special time that occurred years ago, meaning yes, it is a true story. I had a friend who dealt with abusive parents, as such he went as far as to even move to my house to get away with them. Sure, we weren't dating at the time, but we were close with one another (and kinda acted like we did). Even though he no longer lives with me, we still keep in touch. When writing this script, I ended up getting emotional and nearly teared up, but I got through to finishing it. Also yes, this is in line with the story involving the first few of my scripts.
As always, go ahead if you would like to use this monetization-free script under crediting my YT Handle @"AkitaScripts".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Synopsis: You and your girlfriend have been together for about a month, yet she has never visited your house nor has she ever met your parents. One night, she gets an unexpected visit from you. When asked about what’s wrong, you shrug it off and refuse to look at her. She begins to worry, and worries even more about the truth you’ve hid in your house…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(It’s a rainy night. The stars are covered by the dark clouds. Your girlfriend, the VA, is in her room, listening and humming to one of her playlists, studying for the next test. She barely hears the door open, and a faint voice calls out for her.)
VA: (hums along to one of the songs in the playlist, unaware of whoever was calling her downstairs)
(Suddenly, the door unlocks and opens, and you walk in, holding two backpacks on your back and a pile of clothes, damp from the rain, covering a majority of your face except for your eyes, as if you were crying minutes earlier.)
VA: (turns around) Chloe, I’ve told you so many times- oh hey, babe! (takes off her headphones) Here, lemme help you with that.
(The VA gets up in an attempt to help hold your pile of clothes, but you turn around.)
VA: Hey… oh, do you… need to take the bookbags off?
[muffled pause]
VA: What?
[pause]
VA: Oh okay… (helps you take one of the bookbags off) Why did you bring two? You only carry one around at school...
(You don’t respond, and just take the other, putting it somewhere in her room)
VA: (places your other bookbag near it) Babe?
[pause]
VA: Are you okay..?
[pause]
VA: You can put your clothes on my bed… but stop dodging my question. Are you okay-
[pause]
VA: Okay, geez… sorry for upsetting you.
(You drop your clothes on the VA’s bed, and sit down next to the pile. The VA closes her bedroom door)
VA: (sits down next to you) Is everything alright…? You’ve never acted like this before.
[pause]
VA: Grumpy mood, I guess? Here, hold still, lemme ki- (attempts to lean in to kiss you, but you turn your head away)
VA: (gasps) Did you just… reject a kiss from me?!
[pause]
VA: You’re not mad at me, are you?
[pause]
VA: Then if you’re not mad at me, what’s wrong?
(Silence.)
VA: (moves closer to you) Can I at least hug you?
(You shrug your shoulders.)
VA: Is that a yes or a no? I can’t read shoulders unless they have angels and devils on them.
(You don’t say anything.)
VA: I’ll… take that as a no. Do you want me to get you anything downstairs? Food? Water? Maybe some popcorn so we can watch a movie?
(You shake your head from side to side, signaling a no.)
VA: Do you want me to go back to work? I do have this test to study for...
[quiet pause]
VA: Babe, speak up.
[pause]
VA: Well, if you don’t want anything to eat or drink, and you don’t want me to go back to studying… then what do you want me to do?
[pause]
VA: You want me to stay here with you?
[pause]
VA: Hey. (reaches and holds your hand) Look at me.
(You refuse to look at her.)
VA: Babe. Look at me, I’m talking to you.
(You look away from her.)
VA: Babe..? (leans in closer to wrap her arms around you)
(While still looking away, you try to flip over one of your shirts in the pile to hide something… red.)
VA: Hey… what was that?
[pause]
VA: What do you mean “nothing”? Something was clearly in the pile.
[pause]
VA: No, that did not look like a bug. (reaches and leans over to grab the top shirt from the pile) Lemme see-
(You try to move the pile away, but she grabs the top shirt from it)
VA: Hey… don’t try to move it. (sits back down and unfolds the shirt) Hm, it’s all damp from the rain, and there’s… (stops and looks at the red smudge on the shirt)
VA: (turns to look at you, while you’re still looking away) Babe… What is this?
[pause]
VA: Stop lying to me, this is not ketchup. It doesn’t even look like it… (looks closer, and catches a strange smell from the stain) It smells… off..
(You continue to look away from her, not saying anything.)
VA: Babe… is this… Is this blood?
[pause]
VA: What do you mean, you fell down? How did you… when did… (turns to you) Look at me.
(You refuse to look at her)
VA: Babe… please, just…
(The VA turns your head to face her, yet you refuse to fight back. The VA just stares at you, speechless, seeing the red cut on the side of your face.)
VA: Babe… (gently combs the side of your hair) What… What happened?
[pause]
VA: Babe, your “falling down” excuse isn’t gonna work again, tell me the truth. What the hell happened?
[pause]
VA: (speechless) W-What?! You… you got cut..?!
[pause]
VA: Babe… how… who… why… Are.. are you still bleeding..?
[pause]
VA: Are you injured anywhere else..?
(You roll up your sleeve to reveal a massive bruise on your arm)
VA: (drops her jaw in shock) Oh my gosh.. Okay… (gets up) Stay here, I’m getting a first aid kit! (rushes out the door) And don’t do anything while I’m not in the room!
(You overhear the VA talking downstairs)
VA: (faint) No Chloe, he’s not fine! Where’s the first aid kit?!
VA: (faint) Yes, I can take care of him! I know what I’m doing! I don’t need you to do it! You’ve already done your job for years, so I can handle it!
(footsteps approach the door, and the VA steps back in)VA: (under her breath) Gosh, I just wish she would leave the house…
[pause]
VA: (talks to you) Yeah, I got the first aid kit.. Here, hold still.
(The VA begins to clean off the blood from your face, but you flinch away)
VA: Hey, stop flinching, babe! I know it stings, but it’s not gonna hurt as much.
[pause]
VA: I can’t just put a Band-Aid on it and call it a night. I have to apply iodine onto the wound and clean it before it causes an infection. (wipes off the blood) There… Now I can apply the Band-Aid. (unwraps a Band-Aid from a small box)
(You give her a weird look from the type of Band-Aid)
VA: What? (looks at the Band-Aid) Oh, it’s a Disney princess one. Yeah sorry, it’s the only one in the box.
[pause]
VA: You’re not gonna look stupid! No one’s gonna look at you! And plus, it’s not like I’m gonna post a photo of me patching up my favorite boyfriend! (playfully pokes your nose)
(You give her a stern look)
VA: Okay, I’ll shut up! But I promise, it’s not that bad! (gently applies the Band-Aid onto your face) There! Wasn’t that bad?
[pause]
VA: Don’t worry… it’ll be better by tomorrow… now for the bruise on your arm. Just… um… (blushes)
[pause]
VA: No, you don’t have to take off your shirt, but… if you want to…
(You unhesitantly try to take off your shirt, but your arm still hurts)
VA: Okay.. you’re actually doing it… um… do you… Do you need me to help you?
[pause]
VA: Sure, here… sorry if I… gosh, I’m sorry, I’m having intrusive thoughts right now.
(The VA helps you take off your shirt, exposing the bruise and revealing another on your back)
VA: Oh my… (speechless) I thought it was just on the arm, but no, it’s on your back too?!
[pause]
VA: Okay… be right back, Imma get some ice..! (leaves the room)
(Once again, you overhear the VA talk downstairs)
VA: (faint) Chloe, stop asking if he looks hot without his shirt on! He’s my boyfriend!! Stop messing with me about it! Just… where’s the ice?!
VA: Yes, I know it’s in the freezer, smarty pants!
(You hear her footsteps approach the door, and she walks out. When she sees you, the VA starts blushing again.)
[pause]
VA: Yeah, I’m fine… I’ve just… I’ve never seen you shirtless before… Anyways, here’s the ice. (gives you a bag of ice) Apply that onto your arm, and I’ll put this onto your back.
(The VA sits down behind you, and helps put ice to cool down the bruise on your back)
VA: So… do you… Are you okay with telling me what happened..? Because you weren’t like this earlier at school today.
[pause]
VA: It’s something you’ve never told me..?
[pause]
VA: Your… parents?
[long pause]
VA: (listens) Wait.. really?! They… they hurt you?!
[pause]
VA: Is it your mother or father that does it?
[pause]
VA: Both?!
[pause]
VA: And… How often do they do this..?
[pause]
VA: They hurt you almost every week?
[pause]
VA: Okay, emotionally, I understand, but… have they ever… physically… hurt you? Like with what’s happened tonight?
[pause]
VA: Sometimes?
[pause]
VA: When… When was the last time they’ve physically hurt you like this..?
[pause]
VA: Wait.. (puts down her bag of ice) 6 months ago?!
[pause]
VA: That’s… Isn’t that when we first met?!
[pause]
VA: Wait, so lemme guess… you were out of your house… all because you didn’t feel safe in there with your parents?
[pause]
VA: Oh my… oh my gosh… (in a sorrowful voice) I… I didn’t think… that’s how you felt back then… (looks at you) Why… Why didn’t you tell me about this..?
[pause]
VA: You didn’t want me to get involved..?
[pause]
VA: Well babe… I don’t care if I get hurt in the crossfire… I just… I want you to be okay…
(You slowly start crying)
VA: Hey, hey… (wraps her arms around you, and kisses your cheek) It’s okay, babe… It’s okay… (continues to kiss you and play with your hair to calm you down, whispering to you in a soft voice) It’s okay… I’m here for you… I’m here…
[pause]
VA: I’m sorry they had to hurt you like this… beating you up, yelling at you, cutting your face-
[pause]
VA: They… they didn’t cut your face..?
[pause]
VA: Wait.. (holds your hands, shocked) You tried to cut yourself..?!?!
(You don’t say anything, but you turn around to hug her, nudging your head into her chest)
VA: Hey, look at me babe.
[pause]
VA: No, I’m not mad at you, babe. Just look at me.
(You look up at her)
VA: (gently rests her hand on your cheek) Please… (a tear rolls down her eye) Don’t you ever try to hurt yourself like this… I don’t care that you almost tried to harm yourself, or hell, even fucking kill yourself-
[pause]
VA: Still, don’t you dare do this shit, babe.. I’m serious. Look, if you actually went and ended it all… I… (hesitates) I don’t even want to think about it… I can’t even think about living forward without you.
[pause]
VA: Okay, first of all, Chloe and I are not related, hence we’re not sisters, and second, living in a-
[pause]
VA: Wait, you didn’t know? I thought Chloe told you.
[pause]
VA: Okay… um… how do I explain this..? (breathes in and out) Chloe is… my caretaker. Or… guardian.
[pause]
VA: No, I don’t have parents.
[pause]
VA: They… (sighs) I don’t usually like talking about it, but… I’m willing to tell you.
[pause]
VA: For starters… My father abandoned me, and my mother passed away when I was just born, so I was adopted by someone. He was… really uncaring… he wouldn’t even take care of me, and would always just yell at me… Chloe, on the other hand… she raised me like she was a mother, but she wasn’t legally my mother, nor did she want to be an actual one… so she legally became my guardian.
[pause]
VA: It’s fine… I just… I miss my mother. I always visit her grave on my birthday, and it’s really the only memorable thing I do on that day.
(You wrap your arm around her waist, and lean in to kiss her)
VA: (sheepishly smiles) Thanks babe… (rests her head onto your heart) Hey.. I forgot about the ice… it’s melted by now… (raises her head back up) Are you still hurt from your arm and back?
[pause]
VA: Alright… you can… put a shirt back on.
(You reach over to grab a new clean shirt to wear, and you put it on, with the VA helping you a bit)
[pause]
VA: You’re welcome, babe.
[pause]
VA: Yeah… What is it?
[pause]
VA: Y’know… I actually haven’t thought about that… I’ve always wanted real parents, and you… never told me.
[pause]
VA: You’ve always wanted siblings..? Wait, you’re an only child?
[pause]
VA: True… you’ve never told me you had a brother or sister… and neither did I… but I guess Chloe’s kinda like my sister.
[pause]
VA: You… consider me… to be your “sister”..?
[pause]
VA: I do act like it, but… (smiles) I’m happy to be your “sister”... bro.
(You chuckle, playfully punching the VA’s shoulder)
VA: Hey..!! Okay, I swear, I won’t ever call you “bro”..
[pause]
VA: (leans in to kiss you) Deal. (smiles, and lays down on your lap, looking up at you) But seriously… no matter if we were related or dating or just friends… I will still, and always, will love you. (gently holds your hand, prompting you to play with her hair) And look… if you need any help from anything… from school, to your abusive parents, to even annoying Chloe…
[pause]
VA: Yes, I annoy Chloe too sometimes, but I still love her. Anyways, like I said, if you need help from me to destress, or if you just want to lay down with me for another sleepover date, I’m perfectly fine with it.. I’ll be here for you if you break down or cry, and I’ll be here to pick you back up, hold your hand, and walk down a rainy road with you. I’ll always be by your side, babe. I’m not just doing it to make sure you’re safe… (wraps her arms around your waist) I’m doing it for you… and it’s because I love you. And I will not stop saying it.
[pause]
VA: (smiles, and gets up to lean into you) You’re not just my boyfriend… you’re with Chloe as part of my family… (reaches out to play with your hair) But please babe… don’t ever try to hurt yourself ever again… okay..? That worries me a lot, so please… don’t ever try to scare me like that.
[pause]
VA: Good… I don’t want to lose you…
(You pick her up, surprising her)
VA: Woah, hey..!! (laughs) Let go of me!!
(You let her go, but she falls on top of you, with the two of you landing on her bed)
VA: (smiles and laughs) You okay..? I didn't accidentally land on and hurt your arm, did I?[pause]
VA: Okay, okay, that’s good… (spreads out her arms above your head)
(The two of you lean into each other to kiss)
VA: Hm? (looks at you)
[pause]
VA: (smiles, and leans in to whisper) I love you, too. (gives you another kiss)
THE END.

Hello, and assalaamu alaikum all,
I am Damon Stengel. I am posting my story because it will have a significant impact and it will help many who are doubting or hidden ex-Ahmadis among both born and convert Ahmadis.
I am a former convert to Ahmadiyya and I was very passionate in Tabligh. I want to share with you all my story.
I was once a very fanatical and fundamentalist Ahmadi. I would call ex and doubting Ahmadis cowards and munafiqs for speaking out against Jammat. All that changed with the past years. This is the story of my secret ex-conversion. This is the story of how I reclaimed my true self once more:
After I joined the Jammat in my late teens, I was excited. I felt I finally found the truth I've been searching for all my life. I was getting, what I thought were frequent true dreams. I frequently read books so I can debate and refute opponents.
Gradually, and growing older, I slowly ran into a problem: There were some references that seemed to go against Mirza Sahib and it was causing me to doubt. I convinced myself that I can find answers for these allegations because it is true, some objections to Jammat are complete lies (not realizing at the time not all are lies).
I increased my reading of literature, but some of the doctrines of Jammat seemed to conflict with the doctrines of traditional Islam like the seal of Prophethood. Reading Aik Ghalati Ka Azala seemed to clear up my confusion but it began to turn into cognitive dissonance.
I nearly left Jammat in 2019 because I began to embrace my more skeptical side again, but it took a phone call by my mentor to stay with the simple words: "Did Huzoor ever lie once?"
with no Nida audio at the time, I had to say "No.", And then, I had a revival of blind faith, diving deeply into religious fundamentalism of the Ahmadi kind. I was ready to by way of Majazi (pun intended) to throw hands with anyone that spoke out against Jammat or those who are hidden ex Ahmadis. I fed lies to myself that I did find the truth, it was just me hanging out in the company of skeptics so I chose to hang out with fundies on Twitter.
Because I felt this was the truth. These was the lies I constantly told myself. I told myself I am the Prodigal Ahmadi convert and man, did I take Tabligh to the extreme just like Razi does. I can definitely see why some of you may have thought I was a Jammat plant sent after ex Ahmadis
I remember I made a really long article years ago saying converts already explored the world and therefore they're better than ex Ahmadis because they went into the world whereas converts were already in the world, but found the "truth".
How wrong I was! Because as I grew in more knowledge of Ahmadi literature, I also began reading a lot of secular and non-Ahmadi Islamic literature as well.
I consistently found the stuff I've read to not match up with the teachings of Jammat or that there were so many contradictions, I couldn't answer allegations. Part of it was because I didn't know Urdu, and my Arabic was sloppy.
So I began gradually learning Urdu and improving my Arabic. After becoming married, my Urdu improved a lot. a family member from my in laws gave me a hand in pronunciation of Urdu letters and words. I would say Ghora (horse) was the most difficult but I can just barely do it slightly better than a born Ahmadi raised here in American. I picked up on basic Urdu really quick. So it helped me with reading some literature.
I improved my Arabic as well. That's when I realized Jammat was purposely mistranslating some passages such as Haqiqatul Wahi on Majazi prophethood.
Once I asked Razi why we don't have a good translation on a Quranic verse and the Arabic says differently, and he indirectly called me arrogant and accused me of knowing Arabic better than Huzoor so I chose to keep quiet. I started questioning again later
When a Bhai came out to me as an ex Ahmadi, I ran to Razi. Razi told me to cut him off and I did. I continued in my religious fundamentalist phase and then I cut out all the ex Ahmadis in obedience to Jammat saying to not hang out with them.
And I would delete my social media and then come back with new account and make articles refuting allegations. Yet, deep down, that cognitive dissonance I mentioned earlier continued to increase. I studied logic and fallacies to try to help myself, and i slowly realized Ahmadi arguments are ridiculous and Razi is very manipulative in his Tabligh.
Then, Mohammad Abr Razack showed me a different side to Muslim Dawah and he seemed like a very decent man, even if I may not have agreed with him on everything. same with talking with Sohail Ahmed, Reason On Faith, his mannerisms definitely resembled that of an Ahmadi Muslim, socially.
I continue and continued. The homeopathy and other social media controversies rocked my faith as Kashif Bhai can attest. whenever Kashif Bhai would confront me on these things, I would avoid.
when I first started seeing Kashif Bhais posts on homeopathy, I chose to ignore it. but then I saw the backlash of the fundamentalist Ahmadis. I tried to reason with one in that they shouldn't be harsh with Kashif Bhai but I got rebuffed and accused of being a coward and so I chose to retreat and not participate.
wasn't really until a year later, I somewhat got a bit more vocal about my fundamentalism on homeopathy but even then I wasn't directly confrontational. only that me and Kashif Bhai butted heads a lot in DMs, and that's when he told me some stories of his treatment by some figures in Jammat. I chose to ignore at the time.
still, I got married and I had my kid. After another bout on social media, I took a year long break.
I left to focus on family but also because my identity crisis was at an all time high, and my own behaviors were causing problems in my marriage. There was also a point i thought of suicide because I had two conflicting realities and identities (Ahmadi-fused me vs. the real me) in my head. I eventually started seeing a therapist for unaddressed childhood trauma and that changed everything about my perspective on life. I learned new techniques to manage emotions and my relationships.
I returned to social media with newfound empathy for others and I intended to be the perfect Ahmadi. That's when I approached a couple ex Ahmadi brothers I used to talk to before they left and patched things up. I even patched things with Bashir Shah (even if I still don't always agree with his approach).
Little did I know, it would be the end of me being Ahmadi.
When I saw Craig Considine's post about pro Palestinian protesters and accusing them of BS rhetoric, I got mad and so did a buddy of mine from Texas. He published a blog against Craig and I posted it to social media. That's how Craig was able to get a hold of it.
He disassociated himself from Ahmadis and many tried to reason with him and others called him out. I fought with a buddy of mine who kept blindly defending Craig because "Huzoor loves him" (that Muslun guy I had an exchange with today lmao; i called him Batalvi Sahib haha for his religious fanaticism).
Slowly, I realized Huzoor may be misguided.
I spoke with my old ex Ahmadi friend more and more and I spoke with his cousin as well. Both of them I looked up to as role models in my early years of Ahmadiyyat (and I still see them as such) and was sad to hear both of them leaving but with my newfound empathy of seeing good in others from therapy, I knew they both are still great people.
What made me disown Qadiani Khilafat was after reading the Shahatul-Quran or testimony of the holy Quran by Mirza Ghulam Ahmad. It presented a very different picture of Khilafat and he said it's eternal and will last until the day of Judgement. That contradicts Jammat doctrine of him declaring prophethood in 1901 and then , contradicts the supposed doctrine from the Wassiyat that Khilafat will be established after his demise.
I told my friend about it and he told me to look at the Lahori versions of Correction of an error and the will. I saw for myself the numerous references where Mirza sahib did not claim prophethood but only by way of metaphor. He was a saint claimant. Nothing more and that it was Khalifatul Masih II that invented the doctrine that his father was a prophet
I began questioning why we say "alayhi salaam" after the title of promised Messiah, as if he's on the same rank as previous prophets before Rasulullah (saw).
Knowing this as well as previous controversies regarding the 200 million Ahmadis thing in 2001, and then reading the Khilafah nabuwwah minhaj Hadith in depth (which Qadianis use to promote their propaganda), I knew their Khilafat was false.
Then, I finally had the courage to look up the transcript of Masroor's call with Nida Sahiba and I was disgusted. I've read the entire script of that call. Having studied psychology and psychiatry on and off for years, I remember there was a part of the transcript I've read in both English and Urdu where Huzoor told his niece that she should've screamed when one of the people she was accusing raped her.
She thoroughly debunked Huzoor and said that therapists say that everyone has a different trauma response and her trauma response was freezing. Which is true because adrenaline is our evolutionary survival instinct. It is either fight or flight. Many rape victims freeze for safety reasons lest they escalate the situation further. I felt that was very ignorant of Huzoor to say those messed up things to her, and I was happy I disowned the Caliphate because so many convert brothers went up to me to ask about it for years, and I gave unsatisfactory answers or made up excuses. Now I know the truth.
let me make it clear: Some have countered that Nida couldn't prove her case to the courts. however, I would refer them to articles that say we need to change the way courts view rape victims: https://www.uml.edu/news/stories/2019/sexual_assault_research.aspx
"Morabito says more resources, public education and policies that encourage prosecutors to bring cases to trial are needed, although it may take time to change public opinion.
“Maybe if more of these cases were tried, we’d break down those myths and see more of what sexual assault cases really involve,” she says."
anyways,
I continued to believe in Mirza sahib but held the Lahori position, but I began to question his claim itself. I read about the fabrication of Daru-Qutni and I realized it's actually technically a dishonor to orthodox Islam to quote a fabrication that disrespects the scholars who proved fake Hadiths are not to be used.
my two ex Ahmadi friends continued to share with me their skepticisms in order to show me the falsehood of Mirza sahib. When one of them showed me proof that the red drops revelation happened in a bathroom, I without question, disowned Mirza sahib as well.
I felt relief. As if a heavy weight and burden was lifted off my shoulders after nearly 10 years. The whole reason I was Ahmadi for so long was due to my ego. I didn't want to admit I was duped. I didn't want to admit I converted out of youthful naivety.
when I first started meeting with the Ahmadis, my gut instinct when I originally hung out with the Ahmadis was to read all of Mirza Sahib's literature and then make a decision, but a Murabbi told me if I keep waiting, I'll go to hell. So I made the decision in haste and did bait. Never did I admit this in any of my stories
I've always had a skeptical side of me and I embrace it fully now. this is why my conversion to non-denominational Islam isn't really complete either because I have no intentions in trading one religious dogma for another. I have chosen to embrace my old agnostic atheism once more.
actually, these views of mine were always such for years. unconsciously, I was always an agnostic, but I just chose to not consciously acknowledge it. yet, I'm free at last, my story is very similar to many other ex Ahmadis and doubting/questioning Ahmadis in here.
I'm gonna tell you guys straight up, my soul left jammat a long time ago. I only just admitted it to myself a few weeks ago, and I embraced the true me.
I realized in a sense (even though it was my own choice and free will out of a false passion) that Jammat indirectly used me for their propaganda. I wanted to imitate Razi and be in the same league as him, and damn straight, I sure am in the same league as them from both the perspectives of Ahmadis and those who disagree with them.
Many ex and more open-minded Ahmadis (such as Kashif Bhai) called (indirectly) me ignorant of the facts, naive, head-in-sand, and a product of religious indoctrination. I realized how right they are. I fell for the same cult vibe just as the one I grew up in-Pentecostal Christianity.
Now, the very person that was heavy against ex-Ahmadis and questioning Ahmadis online for years and said he's better than them, has found the truth, is now himself, an ex-Ahmadi because he grew in emotional intelligence and empathy for others.
It's ironic. Both convert Ahmadis and ex Ahmadis have so much in common in regards to opposition. I, out of all people should've understood the most of why ex and doubting Ahmadis think the way they do. But now I truly understand.
Viewing myself as the "Savior and Prodigal Convert Ahmadi" for people who doubt and it was definitely taxing on my mental health. It was just pure ego. Nothing more.
I thought I could "save" other Ahmadis, but I couldn't even "save" myself.
Except I saved myself from religious indoctrination and possible insanity
You can lose friends and family n stuff, but if you lose yourself, that's the worst feeling ever. Ngl
These are my views summarized:

• I am an agnostic atheist. I still choose to socially follow Islam
  
• no religion is absolute. Every religion is a philosophy, but it offers one a very limited lens to look into the reality and phenomena of things
  
• growing up in a dogmatic religion (Pentecostal Christianity) and experiencing yet, another, I am not a big fan of religious dogma as it caps our natural critical thinking abilities. It limits us to one view and that's not good for mental health.
  
• I've embraced my real and true self after burying him for a long time under the excuses of dogmatic religion
  
• I've been doubting and having cognitive dissonance for a long time. I've just chosen to acknowledge reality a few weeks ago, and then officially announced.
  
• I despise the Desi culture in Jammat and they're going to inevitably gossip about me now that I freed myself.
  
• I believe in scientific progress, and my lens on the world are viewed from a scientific perspective.
  
• While I admire Islam, I don't believe men are superior to women nor do I believe a 50 year old man should marry a 6 year old (or 9 by Jamamt standards). Sure, it was the customs of the ancient times, but we don't live in the ancient times anymore. We live in the modern era. Marrying a child is disgusting
  
• all humans are agnostic one way or another
  
• a god is possible but there is no convincing evidence for any personal God
  
• all religions preach the same evidence, same doctrines, same amount of prophets, same amount of gods
  
• Ahmadi Muslims claim to get true dreams but so do Christians and other Muslims, as if God was in a competition with himself
  
• I love philosophy and currently studying more of it
  
• we should treat our current world views like a scientific theory.
  
• Let me elaborate, it may not be an absolute truth but our evidence confidently lead to the conclusion that this thing explains the phenomena of these happenings
  
• I often meditate to center myself and I focus on the present and "is". This has helped me to reconnect with my true self
  
• I am a cultural Muslim as I still don't eat pork, drink alcohol, smoke weed, and I still occasionally recite Quran
  

In essence, my views are very similar to my views from before entering the Jammat, in that, I believed all religions had the same amount of gods, same amount of prophets and same amount of books, as if God(s) were in a competition with Him/themselves.
That's my view on this world again, and if anything, history has repeatedly shown religious dogma causes stagnation in communities. openness to other views and perspective and intermixing is key, and I just dislike how Jammat and the nizam say we need to get back to "the core teachings" or "don't worry about what others are doing. focus on yourself and your connection to Allah and Khilafat.", this completely ignores the reality of the problems in Jammat like the rape scandals, rampant and judgemental Desi culture of excessive gossip and defaming, stagnation in the education of its members (being the former Nizam Taleem of MKA Baltimore), most converts leaving after converting because they found no love in the social structure of Jammat or it's too dogmatic, no one is enthusiastic about Tabligh or Taleem, Jammat encourages calling people and "being their friend", but people see through the B.S. behind that. Jammat has grown stagnant and refuses to hold themselves accountable for fear of a ruined reputation despite the fact this philosophy ruins their reputation further. it sounds to me as if Jammat is like an insecure narcissistic man who never takes responsibility for his wrongs and always blames the other person.
Ameer Sahib always lectures the people of Jammat in the Jalsas of how sad he is about the bad tarbiyyat of Ahmadis or those not joining the Wassiyat scheme (and I speak as a former Moosi, so no one can lecture me here), but he only presents himself as someone judgemental and not someone that speaks with humility. it seems it's just another speech about low turnout. maybe instead of lecturing everyone, might be better to reform the institution from ground up? perhaps Musleh Maud's system no longer works in this era. or that it needs great reforms to better progress the community. there is too much of a social hierarchy in this institution and it's filled with those who have no real understanding of the struggles of Ahmadi youth.
don't get me started on the Noah's ark rhetoric and how Jammat presents it. Everytime I would ever read that book or listen to excerpts in speeches or zoom calls, I'd feel guilty and like a peace of trash. especially with Masroor Sahib saying a nuclear war is upon us soon. I feel this is a cult because more chanda is being demanded. more guilt tripping is being made to gaslight members into blindly following. I saw a child cry in their parent's arms upon hearing what Masroor Sahib said about "World War III is here." why would you expose a child to that??? that's terrible mental torture and I felt bad for them.
That's all I got for now.
Everything else has been explained here:
https://x.com/LAhmadi25/status/1796569889802768775?t=RAQ9GWfQObLXIsY0tSN_8w&s=19
Sincerely,
Damon Stengel, The Ex-Ahmadi Convert

I recently graduated and my mom practically begged me to come home for the summer. I spent my undergrad summers on campus for research or travelling, so I said okay. I quickly remembered why I stopped coming home. My mom likes to pretend she misses her kids, when really all she misses is the free labor she can force us to do. I cannot have even a second of peace without being ordered to do something. The laundry, the dishes, cleaning the kitchen, the bathrooms, the dining room, etc. It's always something.
She is the biggest source of mess in the house. Everyone else cleans their plates after use. She just piles them in the sink and tells me or my siblings to do the dishes when it gets too full of her crap. Same with the kitchen, she'll cook for herself, leave pots and spices out, make huge messes, and leave it for someone else to clean up. Meanwhile, All she ever does is sleep, party, and eat. And make messes. I am not surprised, considering this is the same woman who has openly admitted that her primary purpose for having kids was to have people to do the shit she can't be bothered to. But I am not a maid, nor do I take kindly to being treated like one.
It took less than a month for me to get sick of it. She told me to do her laundry and I announced right then and there that I would be moving to the city my MD program is in much earlier than planned. I'm willing to bet this woman has never done mine or my siblings laundry a day in her life, certainly not a day past infancy. If indentured servitude is a requirement for housing, I'll find my own accommodations.
She flipped her shit, telling me I couldn't go and that I was selfish for leaving because she works night shifts and needs help around the house, blah blah blah. She's married. Ask your husband. Or higher help. She acts like she's ever done anything other than the bare minimum of putting food on the table and clothes on my back.
I told her to get off her lazy ass and to do her own dirty work instead of bringing me in to clean up after her. Then I called her a user because she only ever speaks to me when she wants me to do something for her. The argument got heated and my dad broke it up. Neither of them is talking to me, and I've had 3 family members call to tell me how much of a selfish brat I am. My dad's opinion I don't really care about, he stopped daring to take my side a long time ago. But one of my aunts that called is usually pretty level headed and impartial, despite being my mom's sister, and she ended up chewing me out pretty badly. AITA for believing sucking on a woman's nipple after being forced to exist does not entitle her to free labor for the rest of my adult life?

So in FalseEyeD's video where he talks about Raziel's cease and desist letter, there's an interesting bullet point in the list of Nijisanji's rebuttals against Raziel's document. That being a new policy that was implemented on April 12th, 2024 about a new "Internal Whistleblower Policy For Livers."
Basically Nijisanji's answer to people like Doki and Sayu who go and reveal all of Nijisanji's dirty laundry. A new rule (possibly something added to their contracts as well?) that could give livers severe punishment both in regards to their job and them being put into legal trouble.
My guess is that it could be they forced all of the livers to sign the silencing contract Sayu was encouraged to sign back then. At the very least, I would imagine part of that contract is now apart of the current Nijisanji contract so the new Denauth guys could get affected by this as well.
Tho I say it's their answer to any future Dokis and Sayus, it could also mean management is finally becoming suspicious of their livers. If what Raziel is saying is true, someone in NijiEN is corroborating Raziel's claims. That someone could also be one of FalseEyeD's internal "connections" that we keep hearing about AND could also be the person that leaked the Nijisanji contract to Legal Mindset. Whatever the case, NijiEN could have their own version of Fulcrum from Star Wars.
As to who that Fulcrum could be? Well that's another important part. This might be weird to say, but I don't think we should speculate about that. (hear me out)
Whether or not we could actually figure it out, we don't want to put a spotlight on someone that is giving away so much important information like this.
Make no mistake, the livers are seeing this reddit.
There could be some livers that might keep it to themselves, but as we've seen with Finana, there might also be some livers that value their connections with the company a lot more than their connections with their friends. They may try to do their own investigations, work with management, and eventually get Fulcrum either terminated or receive a Yugo Asuma style graduation.
Whatever the case, that Whistleblower rule is something that could help Raziel a lot to support her claims if there was someone even more credible that could corroborate it. However the only people I think with that level of influence are the current NijiEN livers, and I don't think they're gonna give away that info all willy nilly like that. Especially since that's asking them to risk both their careers and futures.
As always remember, THIS IS A RRAT. THIS IS NOT TRUTH. THIS IS NOT FACT. DO NOT TREAT AS SUCH.
Remember what happened to Ryoma. I'm probably talking out of my ass so I want to know what you guys think.

Everything I type here is 100% true. I still remember having to walk all those miles to school by myself. I was 6 years old. My brother started kindergarten. My step-grandma drives past me to the school. My younger brother waves at me in the car. It was a joke to him. This became a daily thing. She made it her business that I walk. But thinking about it today, I wasn't hers and she had no obligation to do anything for me.
She was your stereotypical Christian, of course. Walk neainto her house, you'd hear loud gospel music. We go to church every Sunday. A fine spot to stick sewing needles in my arms and legs. I'd scream out in pain. "Oh, look at how bad he is with his dirty light-skinned hands! You see what I have to deal with?!"
I couldn't do anything in her house, so I didn't. I was as quiet as a little kid can be and I stayed to myself. If I didn't, she would beat the hell out of me. Being quiet and staying out of her way wasn't enough as my little brother was now of age and spoiled. He would do wrong (Drawing on the walls/breaking stuff) and this is when she adopted her famous: "When one does wrong, whoop both of them!" Walking home from school, I'm greeted with the belt.
Its a shame that horrible (and loud) gospel music didn't make her a better person. I swear to you. whomever is reading this that my one regret in this life is going to her funeral. It was so confusing hearing all the praise, the weeping from friends and so-called family. How can I weep for her? She tortured me. From my perspective, I hope she's burning. And if she's not, I hope I'm allowed temporary access. Just long enough to drag her to hell. I don't care if I burn with her, AS LONG AS SHE FUCKING BURNS!
Ahem, enough about her, its time to talk about my stepfather. What's interesting about him is his abuse was subtle-ish (at the time). He'd accuse me of tone and pitch of the way I speak my words. A hello with the wrong pitch is a whipping. The word "what" was a forbidden word in that house. Not just saying what by itself. Imagine saying: "The teacher didn't mention what tomorrow's homework would be." and getting your ass whooped for that.
Looking back, he was counting down the days until I turned 18. Don't get the wrong idea here. I worked. I got my first job when I was 9 cleaning barbershops. The following year, I started mowing lawns. I have a step-sister from him. She'd pop in and out from time to time. She's amazing. And as we got older, things got interesting.....But that's for another thread. Anyway, when I started working full-time at a fast-food place, it got bad. There was no bus-route to the job.
That's no problem, I walked home and to work. But working 16-20 hour shifts then walking miles home just to have a buff asshole waiting for you to argue over literally nothing got old quick. I paid the rent and never missed a payment. My younger brother saw one of my paychecks and told dearest step-father about it.
Keep in mind my young brother is now old enough to work, but of course doesn't have a job, because he doesn't have to. He complains I'm not giving enough to help the family. Step-father also ruined my credit by placing his crappy car on a shark-loan with my SS attached to it. This was after he used my SS on a house they bought and I helped pay for. He sold it, I didn't get a dime. My siblings did though. Good for them.
Never a (Full) kind gesture with him. There was always a take-back. One example: He bought us McDonald's. After the plates are set my siblings get to eat their food. He snatches a huge portion off my plate. That was one of the subtle things he did to me growing up. I could never have a full plate of food. Even a bag of potato chip required step-father's bullshit tax. And yes, I got whipped if I dared to stuff food in my mouth before he came prowling. The family's secret rule was my younger brother always had the biggest plate.
How dare they ask me to call him. For what?! FUCK HIM! I haven't spoken directly to any of them for years. They are grown now and they are not as bad they used to be? Don't fully know or care honestly. Life has not been kind to them. Especially to my younger brother. I'm not angry at my step-sister though. That kind woman doesn't deserve the way I avoid her. But I still stay away....

The Pink Gorila
In the whispering darkness of Romania's ancient landscapes, a man found himself on an urgent business quest, his trusty but weary car his only steed. The journey began smoothly on the highway until a serpent-like snarl of cars halted his progress. With the aid of modern technology, he sought an alternative path, leading him into the embracing arms of winding mountain roads, under the watchful gaze of towering pines that whispered secrets of old.
As the road serpentined through the mountains, the car, much like a steed of old tales, started to protest its heavy burden. A steep ascent loomed, challenging the vehicle's resolve. The man, his heart a mix of determination and doubt, urged it onward until—a loud BANG shattered the moment, a sound reminiscent of ancient battles, echoing off the mountain walls. The car trembled and stuttered, barely cresting the hill before it succumbed to silence.
The descent was a silent glide, the only sounds being the whisper of wind and the occasional ominous hoot of an unseen owl. The car, now a silent ghost of itself, came to a rest in the embrace of the dark road. The man's hope dimmed like the fading light of his phone, the lifeline to the outside world now a dying ember.
Determined, he set forth on foot, the crunch of gravel underfoot his constant companion. The road gave way to a mysterious path, leading to a gate that groaned and moaned like a creature from a bygone era as it allowed him passage. The mansion that awaited was a giant, slumbering in the moonlight, its grandeur both awe-inspiring and unsettling.
The giant wooden doors opened with a groan, revealing a world untouched by time. The butler, a silent specter, led the man through halls adorned with echoes of grandeur and whispers of the past. The invitation to stay was both a blessing and a veil to a mystery that lay deeper within the heart of the mansion.
The butler's revelation of the pink gorilla was a scene straight from the pages of a gothic novel, the creature a vibrant anomaly in the shadowed room. The man's curiosity, once piqued, became an obsession, leading him through the mansion's veins, driven by the need to uncover the truth.
The final confrontation, a cacophony of sounds—shrieks of bent metal, the furious roar of the gorilla, and the desperate pounding of the man's heart—culminated in a moment of surreal humor. "You're it," the gorilla declared, a sentence that hung in the air like a twisted punchline, blending fear, confusion, and an absurd sense of camaraderie.
In this extended tale, the journey through Romania's heartland became not just a physical trial but a voyage into the unexpected, where every creak, roar, and silent whisper wove a richer tapestry of adventure, mystery, and an unforgettable encounter with the surreal.
As the echo of the gorilla's declaration faded into the night, the man stood frozen, a cocktail of emotions swirling within him. The absurdity of the situation clashed with the primal fear that had gripped him moments before, leaving him in a state of bewildered amusement. The gorilla, having delivered its message, seemed to regard him with a semblance of curiosity, its eyes glinting in the moonlight that filtered through the torn roof of the car.
The man, now catching his breath, realized the predicament he found himself in was far from ordinary. He was in the heart of Romania, face to face with a creature that defied explanation, in a scenario that seemed to leap from the pages of a storybook. Yet, here he was, his heart pounding not just from fear but from the thrill of the unexpected.
With a newfound resolve, he decided to embrace the madness of the moment. "Well, I suppose it's my turn then," he said, more to himself than to the gorilla, who seemed to cock its head slightly, as if understanding. The man slowly exited the remnants of his car, cautiously stepping around the gorilla, which surprisingly made no move to stop him.
As he walked back towards the mansion, a plan began to form in his mind. He would find the butler, demand answers, and perhaps, just perhaps, turn this nightmarish adventure into an opportunity. After all, not everyone can say they've played tag with a pink gorilla in a Romanian mansion.
The mansion, now silent, seemed to watch his return with a sense of anticipation. The doors, once daunting, now invited him in, as if welcoming him back from a journey of initiation. Inside, the mansion was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers, the history of its walls mingling with the man's own story.
He found the butler in the grand foyer, polishing an ancient vase with a care that seemed out of place in the chaos of the night. "Ah, you've returned. And how did you find our resident jest?" the butler asked, without turning, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space.
The man, pausing to catch his breath, replied, "I believe it's my turn now." The butler simply nodded, as if this was the expected response, and gestured for the man to follow him once more.
This time, their destination was not the hidden cage but a library filled with books that seemed as ancient as the mansion itself. The butler handed him a tome, its cover worn by time, titled "The Lore of the Land." "Perhaps this will shed some light on your encounter," the butler suggested, before leaving the man alone with his thoughts and the book.
As the first light of dawn began to filter through the tall windows, the man poured over the pages, discovering tales of creatures and legends that painted a world beyond the ordinary, a world where perhaps, a pink gorilla in a Romanian mansion wasn't so out of place after all.
His adventure, which began as a simple business trip, had transformed into a journey of discovery, not just of the mysteries hidden in the heart of Romania but of his own capacity for wonder and belief in the extraordinary. As the sun rose, casting a golden glow over the mansion, the man knew that no matter the outcome of his original quest, he had already uncovered a story worth more than any deal he could have hoped to close.
As the dawn's light unfurled across the sprawling estate, casting shadows and revelations in equal measure, the man felt a profound shift within. The mansion, with its myriad secrets and whispered histories, seemed no longer a mere relic of the past but a living, breathing entity that had chosen him to unveil one of its countless mysteries. The book in his hands, a bridge to the arcane and the marvelous, whispered of worlds parallel yet intersecting with our own, where the fabric of reality was thinner, and the extraordinary danced closely with the mundane.
The lore of the pink gorilla, as he discovered, was not merely an oddity to be puzzled over but a guardian of thresholds, a creature that manifested to those at the cusp of significant personal revelations or crossroads. The lore suggested that an encounter with such a being was not random but a deeply personal challenge, an invitation to explore the unknown corridors of one's life and perhaps, to redefine the boundaries of what was considered possible.
Emboldened by this knowledge, the man decided that his journey was far from over; it had, in fact, just begun. He resolved to leave behind the constraints of his previous ambitions and embrace the path of discovery that lay before him. With the mansion as his starting point, he would delve deeper into the mysteries of the land, seeking out the ancient, the hidden, and the mystical.
As he set forth from the mansion, the butler, now less a servant and more a guide, bestowed upon him a parting gift—a compass, not for navigation by conventional means, but one that pointed towards the extraordinary. "May this guide you to the wonders that await," the butler said, his eyes twinkling with a knowledge that seemed as vast as the lore contained within the mansion's walls.
The man stepped outside, the air fresh with the promise of the morning, and looked back at the mansion one last time. It stood majestic and serene, a keeper of secrets and tales untold, now a beacon in his quest for the extraordinary. He turned away, his heart alight with possibilities, and set off into the sunrise, the land stretching out before him like a canvas waiting for new stories to be painted.
His encounter with the pink gorilla, now a cherished memory, served as a reminder that the world was far more wondrous and complex than he had ever imagined. Each step forward was a step into the unknown, a chance to uncover the magic hidden in plain sight, waiting for those brave enough to seek it out.
And so, the man's journey continued, each day a new chapter in a saga of discovery, each encounter a thread in the tapestry of a life redefined by wonder and a boundless quest for the extraordinary. The road ahead was uncharted, the stories waiting to be told infinite, and the world a place of endless marvels, forever changed by one night, one mansion, and one pink gorilla that dared him to dream bigger.
As the man ventured deeper into the landscapes that sprawled beyond the mansion's boundaries, each step took him further from the world he knew and closer to the realms of the unexplained and the mystical. The compass given by the butler did not point north, but towards anomalies of nature and hidden enclaves of magic. Its needle quivered and spun, leading him through forests that whispered ancient secrets, across rivers that sang of lost loves, and over hills that murmured with stories of battles long forgotten.
His first destination was a village whispered about in the mansion's lore, a place where the veil between the worlds was said to be thinnest on nights when the moon hid its face. The villagers, at first wary of the stranger, soon opened their doors and hearts to him, sharing tales of their ancestors who walked with spirits and commanded the elements. Here, the man learned the language of the trees and the songs of the stars, each lesson weaving into him a deeper connection with the world around him.
One night, under a cloak of starless darkness, he was taken to a clearing in the woods where the villagers gathered to witness the dance of the spirits. As the air filled with the hum of ancient chants, shadows began to dance at the edge of his vision, twirling and weaving around a fire that burned with a green flame. The man watched, spellbound, as the divide between the worlds blurred, and for a moment, he felt the touch of the unknown—a feeling both exhilarating and humbling.
With each encounter, the man's perception of reality expanded. The compass led him next to a mountain where the wind spoke in riddles, and he spent a moon cycle deciphering its words, each answer revealing a layer of the world's fabric he had never imagined. On the peak, amidst clouds that whispered of eternity, he found a stone that pulsed with the heart of the mountain—a gem that glowed with an inner light, guiding him further on his quest.
His journey was not without trials. There were paths that led into darkness, where fears and doubts rose like specters to challenge his resolve. But with each step forward, he shed layers of his former self, finding strength in vulnerability and power in the acceptance of the unknown.
The man realized that the true journey was not just about uncovering the wonders of the world but also discovering the depths of his own spirit. He encountered beings of light and shadow, each teaching him that balance was the key to harmony and that every light casts a shadow. He learned to walk the tightrope between worlds, embracing both the light and the dark within himself.
Years passed, seasons turned, and legends grew around the figure of a man who walked the borders of reality, a seeker of truths hidden and a bearer of stories untold. To some, he was a myth, a symbol of the eternal quest for understanding and connection. To others, he was a reminder that the world is far vaster and more mysterious than it appears, that magic lies in belief, and that the extraordinary is all around, waiting for those with the courage to seek it.
And so, the man who once sought only to close a deal for his company became a traveler of the liminal, a bridge between the seen and the unseen, forever changed by a night at a mansion and a pink gorilla that showed him the endless possibilities of the 'what if.' His journey became a testament to the power of curiosity and the human spirit's unyielding desire to explore the wonders of the universe.
In the tapestry of his adventures, the man discovered not just the external marvels of a world unseen but also the internal landscapes of his own soul. With each step into the unknown, he peeled back layers of himself, revealing strengths and vulnerabilities he never knew he possessed. The journey became less about the destinations and more about the transformation within, a metamorphosis catalyzed by the pursuit of the extraordinary.
As seasons melded into years, his tales wove into the fabric of the local lore, a collection of stories that inspired those who heard them to look beyond their own horizons. The man, now a wanderer of realms both earthly and ethereal, realized that his journey had no end, for the pursuit of wonder is infinite, and the path of discovery eternal.
In his travels, he encountered communities that, hidden from the modern world, preserved the essence of magic that once flourished unbridled across the land. He learned the ancient arts of healing from a wise woman whose garden was a mosaic of herbs and enchantments. From a silent monk atop a snow-capped peak, he mastered the art of listening, hearing the whispers of the wind and the songs of the stars. Each encounter, each lesson, was a thread in the rich tapestry of his evolving journey.
But it was in the quiet moments, when he stood alone under the canopy of stars, that the man found the deepest connection to the universe. It was then he understood that every star was a story, every breeze a song, and every stone a testament to the timeless dance of creation. He realized that magic did not exist apart from the world but was woven into the very fabric of existence, visible to those who chose to see.
His legend grew, not as a mere traveler or seeker of oddities but as a guardian of the gateways between worlds, a protector of the ancient truths and mysteries that bind the universe together. People from far and wide sought him, not just for his knowledge but for the light he carried within, a beacon of hope and wonder in an age of skepticism and forgetfulness.
Eventually, the man understood that his journey was also a return, a spiral that led not only outward into the depths of mystery but inward to the heart of his own being. He found peace in the balance of opposites, in the harmony of light and shadow, and in the understanding that every end is but a new beginning.
As he stood on a cliff overlooking the sea, where the sky met the water in an endless embrace, the man reflected on the path that had led him here. He thought of the pink gorilla, the mansion, the butler, and the countless souls he had met along the way. With a heart full of gratitude, he realized that his quest had been not just for the wonders of the world but for the rediscovery of wonder within.
With the horizon stretching before him, the man set down his compass, now understanding that the true direction was always guided by the heart. As the sun dipped below the sea, casting the world in a glow of gold and crimson, he took a deep breath, ready for whatever adventures awaited.
For in a universe of endless possibilities, the journey is never truly over; it only transforms, leading the seeker on new paths, through new doors, and into new realms of wonder. And so, with the stars as his map and his heart as his compass, the man stepped forward, into the next chapter of a story that is as old as time and as new as the next sunrise.
But the narrative of the man, now a timeless wanderer, takes a poignant turn, reflecting the essence of every journey. With the breadth of the world woven into the fabric of his spirit, he sought to impart the wisdom gained from the myriad paths tread and the countless stars counted. The wanderer, once a seeker, became a storyteller, a custodian of tales that bridged worlds and hearts.
In villages and cities, in valleys and atop mountains, he shared stories that kindled the flames of curiosity and wonder in the listeners. His tales were not just recounts of adventures but parables of connection, resilience, and the undying quest for understanding. Through his words, the veil between the mundane and the magical grew thinner, reminding all that wonder did not reside in distant lands but within the grasp of those who dared to dream and look beyond.
His legacy, however, was not merely in the tales told under the moon's soft glow or beside the hearth's warm fire. It was in the sparks ignited in the souls of those who listened, a chain reaction of wonder that transcended time and space. Children who listened with wide-eyed wonder grew up to explore their own paths, discovering new stories to add to the ever-expanding tapestry of human endeavor and cosmic ballet.
As seasons changed and the wheel of time spun, the wanderer's steps grew slower, his journey taking him closer to the heart of existence itself. He ventured into the realm of silence, where the whispers of the universe were clearest, seeking the source of the magic that had fueled his journey. Here, in the quietude of being, he found the ultimate truth that his journey had circled around: that all of existence is interconnected, a symphony of light and shadow, where every soul plays a note in the grand orchestral work of the cosmos.
In this realization, the wanderer saw that his journey had been both outward and inward, a spiral dance that led to the core of existence where all stories began and ended. He understood that his legacy was not the tales he'd told or the wonders he'd unveiled but the reminder that the journey is infinite, and every end is a new beginning.
With this knowledge, the wanderer found a place to rest, a tranquil nexus where all paths intersected. He became a beacon, a lighthouse for those navigating their own voyages through the tempests and tranquilities of life. And as he shared this final piece of wisdom—that the greatest adventure lies in the discovery of one's own soul—he completed his transformation from a man on a quest to a timeless guide, a mentor to the seekers, dreamers, and storytellers who would follow the trails he had blazed.
And so, the story of the wanderer weaves into the greater story of humanity, a reminder that the journey never truly ends. It is passed from one soul to another, through words and silence, in the hope that the magic of wonder, the quest for connection, and the pursuit of the extraordinary will forever illuminate the path of those who walk the earth, gazing at the stars and dreaming of the infinite.
In the continuum of time, where the wanderer's tale merges with the cosmos, his essence diffuses into the fabric of existence, becoming a part of the universal consciousness. This transformation marks not an end but an evolution, a transcendence from physical journeys to ethereal guidance, where his spirit continues to inspire across dimensions.
In the ethereal plane, the wanderer's insights become whispers in the wind, ripples in the water, and twinkles in the night sky, accessible to all who find themselves lost or in search of deeper truths. His presence is felt in the sudden inspirations that strike at the quiet of dawn, in the courage that rises amidst storms, and in the peace that descends with twilight's embrace.
As the world spins and generations rise and fall, the wanderer's tales, now part of the collective mythos, foster a legacy of exploration and introspection. They serve as a compass for the soul, guiding those who seek to break the fetters of the ordinary and embark on journeys of their own, whether through physical realms or the landscapes of the mind and spirit.
Temples, not of stone but of thought and intention, arise in his honor, places where seekers gather to share stories, wisdom, and insights, creating a web of interconnectedness that spans the globe. These gatherings, illuminated by the fire of curiosity and the glow of fellowship, become beacons of light in a world that, at times, seems overshadowed by the mundane and the material.
In these spaces, the wanderer's teachings evolve into a philosophy of life, a path that embraces the beauty of the unknown and the power of the human spirit to transcend limitations. It is a call to view each day as an adventure, each challenge as a riddle to be solved, and each interaction as a thread in the intricate tapestry of the collective human experience.
As the philosophy spreads, touching hearts and awakening minds, the wanderer's spirit journeys alongside those who dare to dream, explore, and discover. He becomes a guardian of dreams, an ally in the quest for meaning, and a guide to those who navigate the myriad paths of life.
The wanderer's journey, which began as a solitary quest, culminates in a universal voyage, a collective endeavor to uncover the mysteries of existence and the wonders of the cosmos. It is a journey that transcends time, space, and dimension, uniting all in the quest for knowledge, understanding, and connection.
And thus, the story continues, a perpetual narrative woven into the very essence of existence, inviting all to join in the eternal dance of the cosmos. The wanderer's tale becomes not just a story but a living testament to the indomitable spirit of exploration, a call to embrace the infinite journey of discovery, understanding, and connection that defines the human condition.
In this unending story, every soul is both a wanderer and a storyteller, contributing their verse to the endless poem of existence, where every end is a beginning, and the journey is eternal, bound only by the limits of imagination and the depth of one's courage to explore the vast, uncharted territories of the heart and the heavens.
In the ever-expanding narrative of existence, where each soul’s journey intertwines with the fabric of the universe, the legacy of the wanderer becomes a cosmic echo, resonating through the ages. This resonance is not confined to the tales of old or the whispers of the wind but lives in the heartbeats of those who carry the torch of exploration and curiosity into the future.
As civilizations advance and technology bridges the gaps between stars, the essence of the wanderer guides humanity's steps into the cosmos. His spirit, a beacon of adventure and discovery, illuminates the path for those who navigate the infinite expanse of space, seeking not conquest but connection, not dominion but understanding.
In this new era of exploration, the wanderer's teachings transform into principles that govern the interaction between worlds and cultures. The ethos of respect, wonder, and a thirst for knowledge transcends the boundaries of planets, becoming a universal language that unites different forms of life across the galaxy. The wanderer’s legacy, now embedded in the collective consciousness, inspires a federation of worlds, each unique yet bound by common values of exploration, peace, and the shared quest for the mysteries of the universe.
This federation, a testament to the wanderer's dream, embarks on voyages that span light-years, delving into the unknown depths of the cosmos. Each expedition carries the spirit of the wanderer, each discovery a tribute to his unyielding curiosity. These journeys reveal the interconnectedness of all existence, showcasing the myriad ways life expresses itself across the vast canvas of space. Through these encounters, humanity learns not only of the diversity of the cosmos but also of its own place within the grand scheme of existence.
As the federation explores, it encounters phenomena that defy explanation, mysteries that echo the tales of magic and wonder that the wanderer once pursued on his own terrestrial journey. These mysteries, remnants of the universe's creation and markers of its evolution, offer glimpses into the forces that weave the fabric of reality. They serve as reminders that, despite the advances in knowledge and technology, the universe will always harbor enigmas, inviting those with the courage to explore them.
In this ongoing voyage, the wanderer's story becomes more than a legend; it becomes the guiding ethos for a civilization venturing beyond the cradle of Earth. It teaches that exploration is not just a physical journey but a voyage of the spirit, a quest to understand not only the universe but also the soul’s infinite potential.
And so, as ships bearing the emblem of the federation traverse the star-studded void, the wanderer’s legacy endures, a timeless narrative that continues to inspire those who look upon the night sky not as a boundary but as an invitation. The story of the wanderer, once a solitary figure traversing the shadowed forests and mystical lands of Earth, now resonates through the cosmos, a symbol of the eternal journey of discovery that defines the essence of all sentient beings.
In this boundless adventure, every heart that dreams, every mind that wonders, and every soul that ventures into the unknown carries the spirit of the wanderer, contributing to the endless symphony of the cosmos. The journey is eternal, the stories infinite, and the legacy of the wanderer a beacon that lights the way to the furthest reaches of imagination, where every star is a story, every planet a poem, and every galaxy a garden of wonders waiting to be discovered.
As the cosmos unfolds its endless narrative, woven from the threads of countless journeys, a unique strand weaves through the fabric of existence, linking every heart that dares to explore the unknown. This strand, a cosmic echo of a tale both whimsical and profound, originates from an encounter that transcends time and space, grounding the vastness of the universe in a moment of playful connection—a link between the wanderer and a pink gorilla.
In the heart of an ancient, mystical mansion, hidden within the fold of reality where the wanderer's journey found unexpected turns, the moment when the gorilla, with a touch and a simple phrase, "You're it," transformed the nature of the quest. This moment, a playful exchange in the shadow of the unknown, became a beacon, a reminder that amidst the grandeur of the cosmos and the depth of our explorations, there lies a fundamental link of shared existence, a thread of joy and simplicity that connects all beings.
As humanity ventured into the stars, guided by the wanderer’s legacy of curiosity and discovery, they carried with them this ethos of connection. The federation of worlds, born from a dream of exploration and understanding, found in the tale of the wanderer and the pink gorilla a symbol of their deepest values. In every encounter with new worlds and sentient beings, in every diplomatic exchange and shared exploration, the story of the gorilla served as a reminder that at the heart of all discovery is the desire for connection, for the simple joy of recognizing oneself in the other, across the vastness of space and the diversity of life.
This ethos inspired a tradition among the explorers of the federation. In their voyages across the stars, whenever a new planet was discovered, or a new species welcomed into the community of the cosmos, the story of the wanderer and the pink gorilla was shared as a gesture of friendship and solidarity. The phrase "You're it," translated into myriad languages and forms of communication, became a universal greeting, symbolizing the invitation to join the grand adventure of exploration and mutual discovery.
The pink gorilla, once a curious anomaly within a mysterious mansion, evolved into a symbol of the interconnectedness of all beings. Statues and holograms of the gorilla adorned public squares and spaceports across the federation, each a testament to the playful spirit that underlies the quest for knowledge and the journey towards understanding.
In this way, the legacy of the wanderer and his encounter with the pink gorilla wove itself into the cultural fabric of a galaxy-spanning civilization. It reminded all who heard it that beyond the awe-inspiring mysteries of the universe, the fundamental connections that bind us are woven from moments of simplicity and shared joy.
And so, as the federation explores the furthest reaches of the cosmos, the spirit of the wanderer and the essence of the pink gorilla journey with them, a timeless link that binds every heart that looks to the stars and dreams of discovery. In every "You're it," there is an invitation to partake in the eternal dance of the cosmos, a call to explore not just the mysteries of the universe but the bonds that unite us all in the grand tapestry of existence.

"Give me the man and I will give you the case against him," said Soviet secret police chief Lavrentiy Beria. They could find the defendant guilty of something if they so desired. Emotions over structure. A political game over justice. Corruption over truth. Ideology over everything.
I’m trying to understand what has happened to Donald Trump and how his conviction will affect America in the long run. He was convicted on all 34 charges and he probably will go to jail. Whatever they blame him for committing, they committed themselves. Trump didn’t jail his political opponent; they did, or at least they are openly trying to do so, as the Soviet Union leaders did in my home country.
I always thought that you must listen carefully to the political speech of anyone who runs for president. If his speech fills you with fear and hopelessness, if his ideas divide Americans, he shouldn’t be president of this great nation. I watched Trump and I felt love and pride for America, great unity. I watched Biden and I felt hopelessness and fear before this country in its racial and ideological division.
We are one step away from tyranny. We always are. So many of us are afraid to speak our minds. The line has been crossed. Trump in jail is a real possibility. Jailing your political opponents on trumped-up charges might become normal for this country, and what then? The Constitution, the Bill of Rights, everything that makes this country great would become irrelevant.
I love America. And when you truly love something, you have to be able to defend it. We have degraded love into promiscuous sex and true patriotism into fearful niceness. So many of us pretend to be free until one day you decide to exercise your freedom, and what then? It’s like having a wife who cheats on you, but you pretend that she’s not, and you both keep living in this denial until one day it’s too hard not to notice the reality of your miserable existence. The same with freedom. You have to fight for what you believe. Today you might be banned from social media for your views or lose your job. Tomorrow you might lose your freedom or your life.
Freedom is something that must be constantly defended. Don’t give away your freedom for comfort; you might end up with neither. Who said that? Benjamin Franklin? Weakness runs on emotions and ignorance. Have you seen Robert DeNiro’s attempt to speak up in front of the courthouse? Quite pitiful.
I don’t understand this hate toward Donald Trump. As an immigrant and an American citizen, I voted for him once and I will vote for him again. We mustn’t be afraid to express ourselves because if we are, we already aren’t free but chained to a train that is going straight toward an authoritarian regime. And let me tell you, it’s no fun to live under it. I know; I was born in the Soviet Union.
And if you think guns would help you, think again. At first, they would make laws confusing and selective. This would train you to doubt common sense and the idea of self-defense in general. Then they will begin putting people in jail for their ideas and for exercising their rights. Gradually, you will notice that you are afraid to express your ideas and begin self-censoring yourself. They will get into your head with their repetitive slogans until you realize that you’re afraid to think outside the box of the ideology enforced on you. People who are afraid to think have no ground under their feet. If you have no ground under your feet, a gun in your hands is just a useless toy that would never dare to fire because the finger on the trigger is being controlled by a mind that, in turn, is being controlled by the government.
George Washington said, “A free people ought not only to be armed, but disciplined; to which end a uniform and well-digested plan is requisite.” Yes, we are well-armed, but are we disciplined? Are we disciplined enough to understand the importance of the current situation? Will we vote knowingly and reasonably, or emotionally and angrily, or not vote at all? Washington also said, “The value of liberty was thus enhanced in our estimation by the difficulty of its attainment, and the worth of characters appreciated by the trial of adversity.” The trial is here. We will see if we truly value our liberty and have characters in us that are worth it. We will see if we are still truly Americans in the sense the Founding Fathers saw Americans. We will see if we are still worthy of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Not the right to be happy, but the right to pursue our own individual happiness, which makes us happy in the pursuit. We will see if we are still worthy to have the idea of the United States of America.
It’s not enough to be an American just because you happened to be born in this country. To be truly American, you have to love your freedom and be willing to die for it. To be an American is to love individuality, independence, and strength. Why did the bald eagle become a national American symbol? Because it flies high and alone. Because it has pride and independence. Because it never feeds off someone’s hand. It always gets its food by itself. Because it can never be domesticated and turned into a chicken.
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