I was recently reading through the comments to this post: https://www.reddit.com/JonBenetRamsey/s/Cm56hmUlgk
The post mentions how John asked Linda Arndt if his daughter was dead and it includes an illustration of how John carried JonBenet upstairs.
Now some of the obvious had occurred to me - that this is an odd question while carrying someone who has such blatant signs of being deceased. Their body is stiff, their hands are stuck above their head, there would be discoloration and an odor.
What was also kind of obvious but that I never really thought about until I saw a comment mention something about how the illustration was wrong - that JobBenet was facing away from John, not towards him.
As soon as I read that I went, wait.. didn't he describe JonBenet facing up when he found her on the ground?
The normal way to pick someone up that is laying face up, is in a manner that result in them facing you when you carry them.
Especially if you're not sure if they are deceased or not, you would probably want to face them to look for signs of life as you moved into more light.
It seems like a bit of intentional gymnastics to turn the child in a manner that had you carrying them in the opposing direction.

I have bpd and combat ptsd. Because of this, I feel like I really relate to npd sufferers. I think we’re cousins in a way.
I don’t know how I ended up down the narcissistic abuse rabbit hole. It’s not hard to get there I suppose; every other pop psychology article seems to spew hatred toward npd now days while coddling “victims.”
While I was reading the incredibly hateful, dehumanizing articles and comments out there, I couldn’t help to be shocked. This wasn’t just people saying that narcissists can be destructive or sharing the hurt they’ve experienced. This was stuff I would expect to come from someone genocidal. Most people even knew that NPD is rooted in childhood trauma. They didn’t care. One person even compared people with NPD to cancer. “Cancer doesn’t choose to destroy lives, but you cut it out anyway.”
As someone who had a childhood that could have easily made me npd if I was wired differently, I felt for people with npd as I read this trash. I guess these people don’t understand that personality disorders can happen to anyone. These sanctimonious keyboard therapists really don’t get that not having npd means they dodged a bullet, not that they are inherently better than npd sufferers.
I feel for yall. There is true misery in a personality disorder. It doesn’t make it easier when your mental health issue paints a target on your back to be society’s next scapegoat.

Once upon a time, there was a lonely guy named infinite_b0ner. He sat quietly in his room, contemplating the meaning of life. Why is life filled with so many mysteries? Do aliens exist? Why am I without a loving partner? That latter question made him stop... He turned his chair towards the window and looked out towards the distant lands. A long sigh left his breath as he saw the petals on the flowers slowly drift down, noting it as an imagery of his own life where the petals represent time cascading down a path of no return. Time was passing and he felt so goddamn lonely. No individual would look him into his eyes and say, "I love you, infinite_b0ner..." Instead they watch him with disgust. They look at his name and say "wtf are you?! Get away from me, weirdo." Mr. B0ner closed his eyes in the moment when those memories of judgement came rushing through his brain. Sort of like when the blood rushes to his... "NO! It's too early for that," he thought to himself. He murmured, "People consider me a dirty beast. I shall not think of such thoughts anymore. I've got to free myself from that identity." He stood by the window as the sun began to set, leaving his eyes closed as a smile slowly took over his sadness. “Nah, this name is too funny. I shouldn’t change myself for others. I shall wear my name proudly and the right individuals will come and accept me for who I am.” infinite_b0ner stood proudly in that moment before sitting back down at his computer to visit this subreddit. “It’s time to make a post and find an amazing, caring person to join me on my journey to be the best, like no one ever was.”
Now onto my info:

• A lonely, single 28 year old dude that apparently loves to write at times!
• I'm into making other people laugh, showing off my humorous side at times!
• A great listener who will spend the time getting to know you. I enjoy being there for others!
• You won't have to worry about me ghosting or lacking in the conversation department. I would love to invest my time and effort into a loving individual!
• I also enjoy reading, gaming, exploring nature, working out, and... eating. What's your favorite food?
• I'm an overthinker in life, sadly. Heck, I'm overthinking this post and wondering if anyone will be interested! Overthinkers unite!

What I am crossing my fingers for:

• To meet a wonderful, understanding, respectful partner that is willing to invest effort into this and make it work
• Someone to help smile, laugh, and love forever
• A respectful, caring individual that is here for the right reasons and isn't a magician in disguise who will disappear out of the blue

I think that's the gist of who I am and what I am searching for. Obviously, there is more about me that I can share, but I feel that I should reserve that for our conversation as we get to know each other more! So feel free to message me if you're interested. :)
Thank you for reading and I hope you have an amazing day!!

This girl and I have been dating since november and were planning on meeting up this summer, literally everything was amazing in the relationship and she was so excited everytime we spent time together, but that was until she started taking accutane near the end of february, which made her EXTREMELY irritable and emotionless/depressed. I mentionned stopping accutane for a bit or atleast lowering the dose but it honestly made her even more angry at me, since then I've been trying to be as respectful as I can be and giving her so much space to let her breathe, but even then she would get annoyed if I were to message her more than once or twice a day and has since pushed everyone of her friends and family away, stopped doing almost any hobby that she loved and has been spending her days mostly alone. And now, at the start of this month both her and I decided to just take a break from the relationship until her accutane treatment is over (should be in august) to see how she feels about being together at that point.
I'm someone who normally feels very secure and doesn't worry about much in a relationship so this is really unusual and difficult for me not to stress/worry about especially because I'm not 100% sure that she'll go back to her normal self after the treatment is over.

I’ll be travelling to the UK next month with my iPhone 12 and am looking into using a local SIM card to save a few bucks. I’m vague as to how messaging works with dual SIMs. Obvs I will have two phone numbers and I will default to the local SIM when not on WiFi. If I send an iMessage to someone in my contacts, will they know it’s me or will it appear to come from someone with a UK phone number? And, if someone sends me an iMessage will I receive it regardless of which SIM is on at the time? Thanks everyone.

The core themes of the character (loneliness and strength mirrored with weakness and association, nature vs nurture) are really cool. The twin's backstory is on par with Shigaraki's in terms of complexity, maybe even better despite being shorter.
Here's a list of things I find interesting about All for One ever since his backstory was revealed :
All for One went from a one dimensional character to a full fleshed person in the final arc :
Seeing the origin behind his dream actually makes it make sense beyond "ahahaha me wanna be evil" : The child who has nothing becomes obsessed with ownership to the point of wanting to own everything. All for One's obsession with having plans upon plans and control in general also seems to come from his extremely unstable environment as a child. Him stealing the glowing kid's Quirk is a show of his innate pettiness, but also depicts his longing for acknowledgment, which is the one thing he never got to have despite his power before he embraced the Demon Lord persona.
All for One is given a dream, and also the power to realize it, which turns to out be a curse of sorts, in the sense that it isolates him, which mirrors the way One for All became too heavy for All Might's to bear alone. It's pretty cool that the one man who managed to take him down was, in a way, haunted by his responsibility and his dream in the same way All for One was. In a sense, All for One's evilness is a role he stuck himself in because it allowed him to fulfill his need for control, acknowledgment and ownership in a way no other way to live ever could. It's not something he was born with.
All for One calling his dream of controlling the world hollow also makes him more interesting to me : a man obsessed with ownership would rather have the one thing he's already owned before with him rather than the one he was never able to have. Whether All for One loves Yoichi is impossible to know, because we don't really know how All for One even feels emotions, for all we know, ownership and love truly are one and the same to him. His regrets over killing Yoichi could be the same regret a child feels when breaking his favorite toy, or it could be genuine desperation for atonement from a man who never sought it in his life. Which brings me to my next point : All for One is a mixture of nurture and nature : he was born with an extremely powerful Quirk, a strong frame, and a clearly abnormal mind, but he would've turned out differently in a different setting, even if his life wouldn't have been perfect. This is the core message or My Hero Academia, and the main theme behind Shigaraki's character, except All for One ended up conveying it more effectively.
I think the reveal that All for One was behind the Shimura tragedy actually made him more interesting to me because he specifically made Tenko accidentally Decay his own mother, and recreated the conditions that led All for One himself to become a villain for Tenko. Subconsciously, despite claiming that he's an evil Demon Lord, that implies he realizes that his environment made him who he is and could make someone else a villain. It's also hinting at a form of jealousy/longing for the life that he was never able to have, which makes him a bit more interesting imo.
All for One's backstory is very short, and it's honestly impressive that Horikoshi managed to explain so many aspects of a previously one dimensional character so succinctly.

this is a two-part reading request first is for my great/grandparents and my spirituality second is for my future husband and his spirituality and how to connect with him through dreams
I would like to know if my deceased grandpas(my grandmothers are alive)/and great grandparents are looking out for me in heaven and if they’re I was told that there with me always vry proud of me, they’re grand/ grand daughter I was told that there with me always in particularly I would also like to know if I can sense them and if they’re around me, guiding me through life protecting me from evil or just protecting and guiding me in general in life and with me on my journey to success, i was told I have strong intuition and that I was very intuitive and that I even have six senses and I have psychic abilities. I was told I was 25% psychic is that true?
How can I connect with spirit? Do I need to meditate? Do I need to journal, practice energy work do I need to open up my chakras? How do I get in touch with spirit so I can know what spirit wants me to do? How do I tap into my intuitive side/be tuned with it and use my gifts to help others do I have the ability to read for other people?. tarot energy, even clairvoyant or mediums what is my gift to offer people? Which one am I specifically I was told to try and that I have the ability to read for others And that spirit wants me to try
i’m told that my gift is my intelligence to get into medical school, but I was also told thati also had a gift of healing others. I want to know what spirit wants me to do to help others and how to connect with my love ones that are no longer with me, what must I do?
To connect and speak with spirit and get in touch with my spirit guides and my angels and my guardian angel. And my spirituality.
I would also like to have dreams/visions of my future husband senses if he’s in pain or cry, mad I wanna feel his emotions and his feelings and senses like he does when I’m in pain and feels it when I’m crying or mad, telepathy like I was told that he has dreams of me and even sees me his dreams and dreamt of me as a little boy and that he’s very intuitive
also I would like to see him and his face. And his skin color I know we don’t share the same skin/eye color But I wanna know how he looks like.and his personality and if he thinks of me and what he thinks of me. Are we soul ties? Are we soulmates? Are we twin flames? I was told where twin flames and we share one so split in half we’re also soul ties
I would love it if someone can clarify all these things that I’m thinking about and give me some guidance on how to achieve my goal Ty my initials are T.T if you need them

So many questions but I thought i'd write them all in subject line so they could come up in search. I just attended my first meeting. I'd been interested in attending for many years, but today I just thought today's the day. I felt I had to go.
I got to the meeting and sat and closed my eyes and instead of focusing on a still point or trying to have no thoughts as I used to do in meditation, I tried to listen expectantly. Granted it was my first time but what I got were thoughts. Coming from the depths maybe, like "you are a writer through and through" and something less deep but useful, about a legal issue i'm working on. Thoughts. But then someone felt guided to say something and I wish I could remember what he said, but it moved me and I started crying. I don't know if it was what he said, to be frank, or just hearing an older man spout wisdom reminded me just how much I miss my grandparents who I loved more than anything. Patient wisdom.
I was embarrased and people were supportive, saying they cried too at the last meetings. That really caught me by suprise. Then I spoke with some of the older folks who'd been going for a long time and they told quickly me there is a lot of infighting and it's a messed up chapter. I was impressed and refreshed by their candor. One of them told me he'd been praying for new folks to come in and oddly, about 5 of us were new and had all felt called to come. And we are all randomly interested in going to a business meeting.
I don't know where this path is leading me. I dont even know much about Quakers, just that I was drawn to a religion where you recognize the divinity in others. I'm hoping the meetings will help me become a more patient, wise person...and who knows one day I thought the Quaker house could foster a good fun positive community... But I'm a total newb and getting ahead of myself.
Anyway so that is the backstory to the questions in my headline:

1. Is there a guidebook to how business meetings are run? I think Quaker in general are not very dogmatic, I could be wrong - but if there is some guidebook that makes things easier I'd love to read it.
2. Is there a guidebook or protocol on how to settle disagreements when there is a lot of infighting? The way they seem to handle it here, I'm told, is if one person dissents, they just won't do whatever issue the person is dissenting on, so they got stuck. And membership is dwindling because of the infighting.
3. Is it normal to just hear a LOT of thoughts during worship? The thoughts maybe were useful but then I'd return to the listening posture. I was hoping someone would get some message and I was so glad one person did.
4. Why do we get moved to cry during meetings? I was surprised to hear some other people said they've been moved to cry too. My theory is that I spend so mcuh time busy reading and writing, that I dont give myself time and space to release or reflect upon the difficult things. Dedicated quiet time like Quakerism offers maybe gives space for things to bubble up, especially when you feel like you have "permission" because people there are kind? Or maybe it's something...more spiritual?

Happy to hear your thoughts. Thank you!

hello, I have wanted this style of game for a while, a good game where tons of people can join in, watch, broadcast, Control. By creating this game you need to be knowledgeable with TV camera systems (spidercams, steadycams, pedastools). I want a game where you can build or join servers with tools huge stages and control them in game, or through art-net (MA2, QLC, ETC) and run them through. And you have certain roles where you could host game shows, TV productions, Recreations, where a producer can switch between peoples views, playing as a Spidercam (wirecam) or a pedastool, steadycam, cranes, etc. you have tons of people, coming in to see someone, something preform. Ive seen it before in roblox, but only the lighting and acting part. I think it would be fun for people to have a community where you can host a game on a stage that you build, assign people roles (LD, Sound, Producer, Cams) and have a full stage production, and an audience. I think this would be a fun game for all as people can train and learn how to operate/how A operation goes on stage/backstage. And an audience to watch that show that you put together. This needs to be a good looking game with good lighting renders and a realistic sound system and building system, not a unreal engine template game. Thank you for reading.

I was just showing someone how awesome my framework 16 was by demonstrating how you can reconfigure the keyboard modules and quickly disassemble and reassemble the input surface, and upon powering the laptop back up, I was greeted with a message saying that the expansion bay module was not connected properly.
There was a QR code on the screen that directed me to instructions on how to switch from the expansion bay shell to the GPU module. I have the GPU module installed - it was preinstalled and I haven't tried to take it out. I imagine I have jostled it in some way that something has come loose? I took the keyboard back off and tried giving the interposer a little press to see if that would help, but no luck.
It gives me the option to skip and boot, so I assume it's not dangerous...? The laptop seems to be working fine... I'm not trying to use the GPU module (I haven't tried that yet).
Has anyone else run into this? I'm not where I can get tools out and try to re-seat the interposer, but that will be my next step later tonight.
I have pictures for those interested, but it seems I can't post both text and images at the same time, so I'll have to put the pics in the comments if that's allowed.
EDIT: Imgur link: https://imgur.com/a/BGyzCUH

Hello! Please give me your raw advice for what I can do to improve my chances of being admitted to UNC. I don't mind a real/raw answer as that is what I truly need (no need to sugar coat). :)
I want to start off by mentioning that UNC is a reach school for me. I just finished my junior year last week and felt that it would be nice for me to get some tips as I am planning on applying to schools this autumn.
UNC is my dream school because I would like to pursue a study in medicine and UNC has a great program for it! To be frank, UNC hasn't always been my dream school. This is because during my freshman and sophomore year, I did not have good grades for someone who would be admitted to such school.
Most of my grades were a B- and I even got two D's on some final exams. This left me completely hopeless and I told myself that my only option was community college. Due to my hopelessness, I did not even think to try any further.
I had a 3.51 GPA through mostly honors courses, but no AP courses. However, my junior year courses consisted of one AP and the rest being all honors courses. I started to receive much better grades in all of my classes as I decided to give it "one last try." Through this, I managed to raise my GPA to a 4.02, which I am very proud of.
This allowed me to gain some confidence and I began to consider more school options for me and therefore, UNC really captured my attention. I have around 150 volunteer hours, several club experiences, some leadership, along with 7 years of band. I also took courses from a medical-future-based program since my freshman year. I am also an in-state resident (which is a huge plus)! Yet, my concerns arise, because compared to many admitted undergrad students at UNC, I feel that I do not have enough rigor in my classes.
I do have 3 more AP courses scheduled for my senior year, which will begin in August, but I am not sure if those would count. Upon addressing my concerns with my school counselor and some senior friends who were admitted to UNC, I was told that a strong letter of recommendation and eye-catching essay may help improve my chances of acceptance.
I have already asked some teachers who know me very well and helped me for letters of recommendations and received the OK!
I have a few ideas for what I want to write my essay about, but I am afraid that they may be cliche. My ideas are:
1.) I grew up as "fat" and "ugly" child, but was able to change into what society would consider to be more attractive through my efforts (working out, eating healthier, taking care of myself more in general). I am thinking about writing about how the treatment I received from society (depending on my physical appearance) allowed me to grow/mature, learn, and realize how society truly is like.
2.) When I received the worst grades that I ever had during my first two years of high school (receiving D's on some final exams, always getting 60's on my tests, etc), I truly believed that this was the "end of the world" for me. I am thinking about writing about how my unexpected growth this past school year allowed me to learn about the value of effort and self-strength, how one shouldn't give up, & how I discovered my growing strive and love to be educated.
Thank you so much for reading to this point! I really appreciate you for that. Please let me know about any tips or advice. :)

I’ve never had this much chemistry with anyone before. Ever. We were like a soul in two bodies. I liked you, I liked hearing you talk, I liked your silly jokes, I liked the animes we watched together. I remember every single detail about you. That little hat you would wear. Your colorful shirts. I never met someone like you. I loved how respectful you were when we met in person. A true gentleman. 4 months in I had to leave… as much as I cared about you. I knew you weren’t looking for anything serious. You refused to put a label on us. You always changed the subject whenever I asked where things are going.
“Let’s take it slow” you said. “I don’t want to be committed to you” that’s what I heard.
“When are we going to meet up again?” I asked. “I’ll see you when I miss you.” You replied. Ouch!
When I was abroad, I bought you a gift. I never told you about it because I wanted it to be a surprise for when we meet in person again; an authentic silver bracelet that will match the one you wear. It’s been 5 months since I disappeared from your life and I’m still holding on to that bracelet, safely tucked in a blue box with a ribbon, hidden inside the same bag they gave me when I bought it. I don’t open it. I can’t look at it. It hurts to think that I lost you before I could have you.
I had to let you go because I was falling for you every single day and you weren’t. “I’ll be there for you as a friend” that’s what you told me. “Friend” ouch!
Part of me regrets leaving and another tells me that I made the right decision not imposing myself on you anymore. But I miss you. So much. I cried myself to sleep many many nights because of how hard I missed you. The past 5 months weren’t easy either. I’ve been going through a lot at work and all I needed is a shoulder to cry on but you weren’t there.
And I’m left alone not knowing what to do.
I ghosted you. I admit it. But I did it because I felt unwanted, especially in the few weeks before I leave.
Do I text you and tell that I miss you or move on with my life risking not finding what I found in you ever again? Will you text back or leave me on read?

exes

(See pt1) J was upset because I was living at a friend’s house. We weren’t able to call as much and it made him upset. I tried settling the piece as much as possible but it wasn’t enough for him.
One morning, I wake up and hang up the phone with him (we slept on call the night prior) and I go out with my family to my Aunt’s house. He messages me saying “where the fuck are you?” Because he has my location and I have his. I tell him where and he says why didn’t you tell me. I tell him that I didn’t even know I’d be here. He still says why didn’t you tell me. The same day he tells me he doesn’t want me to come over to his house.
This swept into an argument that lead with me breaking up with him because he’s being too much for me. It was a very in the moment thing. J messages me on a twitter account he randomly made and begs for me back, I say yes.
The next few days go by, I check that twitter account and now it’s got a name, a profile and I’m blocked from it. I ask him wtf is it and he plays me off like I’m being dramatic. Lack of better judgement leads me to ignore it.
The next day I go to a pride fest, my first one, and J tells me he wants to call when I get back. He asks me when I get back, I say before 9. Well, plans don’t always work out and I end up being late because we lost the car. J is upset with me and I tell him wtf does he want from me. We breakup again. We get back the same night. We have a long talk on the phone that night.
It was rough. I don’t remember exactly what was said but I remember one comment he made “you forced me to cheat on M.” To which I instantly shut the fuck down. We made boundaries that night, set them up and everything was fine. Until school started again. This year, J was going to college. A thing both of us was dreading.
We agreed that we’ll try our best to stay together. Well, August comes and he’s in college. I’m none the wiser to everything he was doing. We call any night we can but everytime we do, he either gets on the phone with someone or starts having a full blown conversation with his roommate. I start getting sick of it and we get into an argument.
Many arguments. Much much much. Then, October 13th, 2023. We get into our last argument. He’s talking about how often I make him have sex. I never have made him have sex. He tells me he’s never started a sexual moment in the entire relationship, I say he’s lying. The next thing I know, he blocks me. On everything. For the last time. (See pt3.)

• Lesson video
• Complementary video

INTRO

Today we’ll look at how you find files, and text inside these files, quickly and efficiently.
It can be very frustrating to know that a file or setting exists, but not be able to track it down! Master today’s commands and you’ll be much more confident as you administer your systems.
Today you’ll look at some useful tools:

• locate
• find
• grep
• which

YOUR TASKS TODAY

• Find all files that have the word "Permission" in it

INSTRUCTIONS

locate

If you're looking for a file called access.log then the quickest approach is to use "locate" like this:

$ locate access.log /valog/apache2/access.log /valog/apache2/access.log.1 /valog/apache2/access.log.2.gz 

(If locate is not installed, do so with sudo apt install mlocate)
As you can see, by default it treats a search for "something" as a search for "*something*". It’s very fast because it searches an index, but if this index is out of date or missing it may not give you the answer you’re looking for. This is because the index is created by the updatedb command - typically run only nightly by cron. It may therefore be out of date for recently added files, so it can be worthwhile updating the index by manually running: sudo updatedb.

find

The find command searches down through a directory structure looking for files which match some criteria - which could be name, but also size, or when last updated etc. Try these examples:

find /var -name access.log find /home -mtime -3 

The first searches for files with the name "access.log", the second for any file under /home with a last-modified date in the last 3 days.
These will take longer than locate did because they search through the filesystem directly rather from an index. Also, because find uses the permissions of the logged-in user you’ll get “permission denied” messages for many directories if you search the whole system. Starting the command with sudo of course will run it as root - or you could filter the errors with grep like this: find /var -name access.log 2>&1 grep -vi "Permission denied".
These examples are just the tip of a very large iceberg, check the articles in the RESOURCES section and work through as many examples as you can - time spent getting really comfortable with find is not wasted.

grep -R

Rather than asking "grep" to search for text within a specific file, you can give it a whole directory structure, and ask it to recursively search down through it, including following all symbolic links (which -r does not). This trick is particularly handy when you "just know" that an item appears "somewhere" - but are not sure where.
As an example, you know that “PermitRootLogin” is an ssh parameter in a config file somewhere under /etc, but can’t recall exactly where it is kept:
grep -R -i "PermitRootLogin" /etc/*
Because this only works on plain text files, it's most useful for the /etc and /valog folders. (Notice the -i which makes the search “case insensitive”, finding the setting even if it’s been entered as “Permitrootlogin”
You may now have logs like /valog/access.log.2.gz - these are older logs that have been compressed to save disk space - so you can't read them with less, or search them with grep. However, there are zless and zgrep, which do work, and on ordinary as well as compressed files.

which

It's sometimes useful to know where a command is being run from. If you type nano, and it starts, where is the nano binary coming from? The general rule is that the system will search through the locations setup in your "path". To see this type:
echo $PATH
To see where nano comes from, type:
which nano
Try this for grep, vi and service and reboot. You'll notice that they’re typically always in subfolders named bin, but that there are several different ones.

EXTENSION

The -exec feature of the find command is extremely powerful.
But "finding things" can go so much further than that! You can not only track down the content of a file, but also its usage with commands like lsof and fuser.
Test some examples of this from the RESOURCES links.

RESOURCES

• 25 find command examples...
• 10 Tips for using "find"
• Five simple recipes for "grep"
• How to use the lsof command to troubleshoot Linux
• Learn "fuser", a little-known Linux workhorse command!

TROUBLESHOOT AND MAKE A SAD SERVER HAPPY!

Practice what you've learned with some challenges at SadServers.com:

• "Saint John": what is writing to this log file?

PREVIOUS DAY'S LESSON

• Day 10 - Getting the computer to do your work for you

Some rights reserved. Check the license terms here

Hey everyone, don’t even know what I’m looking for maybe just someone to listen to me and just to get this out but here goes: (LONG POST AHEAD!)
I’m 22 years old and just graduated college. I’ve been with my current bf for almost 3 years now since 2021. Before meeting him, I had a thing with this guy I met at work when I was 18-19 in 2019. I started talking to him when I started working there and we kept flirting everyday, messaging and so on. I really fell for him and we kept texting. at that point I was very innocent and had always been only focused on school and my grades. I had never kissed or had sex with anyone or even had a bf before. But when I finally met him, for the first time ever I felt inclined to do more and would always get excited when he would come into work and I was completely blind to everything else.
This flirting and messaging went on for a few months until one day he waited for me to get off work and walked me to my car outside in the parking lot and asked to kiss me. I felt so incredibly happy and so alive. My first kiss, It was amazing and so full of love. We waved and signed little hearts at the stop light by the place we worked at and went home.
A few days later he asked me to come over and I agreed. I came over and we were in his room playing around just talking and he started being touchy. We ended up just making out and then he went down on me. (He asked for permission and I gave consent and I was even more into him after that)
We kept texting and talking at work but he would always text me only at random times and always make things sexual or ask me questions about how much experience I had and he knew I was a virgin. He knew he was my first kiss. He knew everything. I liked him so much I would reply and send pictures and do everything because I LOVED him. Something else to mention, while this was going on, at the time my dad was in jail and my family life wasn’t in the best place (which he didn’t know of) but I would work longer shifts to try to make extra money and was just looking to get away from home.
Months past and things kept escalated as he would continue to ask for pictures and I would ask him if he even liked me and what he truly wanted with me and he would never directly answer me. COVID hit and then we were quarantines. We sort of kept texting but it sort of stopped and I was very upset. I lived in a small town so everything opened up by August and we went back to work. We started talking again and one day he asked me to come over. I did and in the back of my mind I knew what was going to happen. I went in and I could tell he was high (which he was often and weirdly when I asked him one time that I wanted to try it he told me not to and that he didn’t want me to ever do it like why try and be protective over it). He led me down to his room and put me on the bed and took my clothes off and aggressively started having sex with me. During this I did not say one word, he would pick me up and move me to different positions and it hurt so bad I told him to not be too hard and to stop but he told me to “take it” and I did. At the end I was facing down on the bed and I looked down to see blood on the sheets. He freaked out and got mad at me and told me to put my clothes on and to leave.
I had work right after and so did he. I went in and kept checking the time and my phone and he never showed up. I guess that was the last time we spoke to each other because I checked my phone again to see that I was left on read. I felt so stupid and used and disgusting. After that I went on a party spiral and began getting drunk all the time and going out with a lot of guys. This “phase” was me trying to take my power back from him and get out my anger. But the point is, now I’m with my bf of 3 years who is sweet and kind but is the complete opposite of this first person I ever had an experience with. Why do I sometimes still feel like I’m not over what happened? Why do I often go back to that place and ask why did he do that why can’t I just move on?

Throwaway because I didn't want this on my main.
I was going to use my boyfriend's computer and when it turned on his discord opened, curiosity got the better of me and I decided to read through his chats. I found him telling some of his friends vaguely about another girl. He dreamt about her and stayed up late with her and some other friend watching horror movies another day, all while I and our 3 year old daughter were asleep in the next room.
We talked a bit on the phone and over message and I think we'll inevitably break up, still ill have to see him because of our daughter, I dont know how I'll cope with this. I don't have many friends and he's the only person I talk to regularly. We've been together since 2019, he was my first boyfriend and I thought he was going to be the only one.
He's still at work and will be back in around 3 hours 40 minutes.
Worst part is that I can't tell you the age of the girl he has a crush on because it's against this sub's rules.The girl is my younger sister's best friend.
TLDR: My boyfriend is emotionally cheating on me with someone younger.

I believed in fairies as a kid. More than believed in them. I think something terrible happened to me, and I've just buried it until now.
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?

Once upon a time, there was a lonely guy named infinite_b0ner. He sat quietly in his room, contemplating the meaning of life. Why is life filled with so many mysteries? Do aliens exist? Why am I without any friends? That latter question made him stop... He turned his chair towards the window and looked out towards the distant lands. A long sigh left his breath as he saw the petals on the flowers slowly drift down, noting it as an imagery of his own life where the petals represent time cascading down a path of no return. Time was passing and he felt so goddamn lonely. No individual would look him into his eyes and say, "I love you, infinite_b0ner..." Instead they watch him with disgust. They look at his name and say "wtf are you?! Get away from me, weirdo." Mr. B0ner closed his eyes in the moment when those memories of judgement came rushing through his brain. Sort of like when the blood rushes to his... "NO! It's too early for that," he thought to himself. He murmured, "People consider me a dirty beast. I shall not think of such thoughts anymore. I've got to free myself from that identity." He stood by the window as the sun began to set, leaving his eyes closed as a smile slowly took over his sadness. “Nah, this name is too funny. I shouldn’t change myself for others. I shall wear my name proudly and the right individuals will come and accept me for who I am.” infinite_b0ner stood proudly in that moment before sitting back down at his computer to visit this subreddit. “It’s time to make a post and find an amazing, caring person to join me on my journey to be the best, like no one ever was.”
Now onto my info:

• A lonely, single 28 year old dude that apparently loves to write at times!
• I'm into making other people laugh, showing off my humorous side at times!
• A great listener who will spend the time getting to know you. I enjoy being there for others!
• You won't have to worry about me ghosting or lacking in the conversation department. I love to meet people and taking the time to really invest in others
• I also enjoy reading, gaming, exploring nature, working out, and... eating. What's your favorite food?
• I'm an overthinker in life, sadly. Heck, I'm overthinking this post and wondering if anyone will be interested! Overthinkers unite!

What I am crossing my fingers for:

• To meet a wonderful, understanding, respectful friend that is willing to invest effort into this and make it work
• Someone to smile and laugh with, and befriend for good!
• A respectful, caring individual that is here for the right reasons and isn't a magician in disguise who will disappear out of the blue

I think that's the gist of who I am and what I am searching for. Obviously, there is more about me that I can share, but I feel that I should reserve that for our conversation as we get to know each other more! So feel free to message me if you're interested. :)
Thank you for reading and I hope you have an amazing day!!