Today I want to tell my story of how I self-advocated and what I did to achieve that goal. I'm telling my story to help those who are in a similar position to what I was in and to inspire those to self-advocate.
To recap from my earlier posts. I have ADHD and fell under the "multiple disabilities" characterization. My high school teacher claimed that I have autism (Not diagnosed). I personally don't believe I have autism or at the very least I have a high functioning autism. Throughout most of my school career, I was in a self-contained classroom with kids with severe disabilities. Even if I was in the general population I had a paraprofessional or peer tutor. I never believed that I should have been in that position. As a consequence, I never really learned any social skills, I was segregated, and felt like that people didn't want anything to do with me because I was sped. The reason why I ended up in this position was probably a combination of me having the "multiple disabilities'' characterization and me testing low in three year revaluation tests. If you want more info on this then feel free to search my profile. This is an alt account and is primarily used to ask questions about special ed so It's really easy to find stuff about me.
Before I get into my story I just want to make it clear that I'm not against special ed. There's good and bad people in every profession. I believed I was in danger for myself and for my future. I don't believe that my teacher was evil and had the best of intentions but he was putting me in a position that was hurting me and I had to act. If you have any questions or feedback feel free to let me know in the comments. Another thing is that this post has been really hard to make. It opened up some old wounds and as a result took several days to write.
Here's my story: So in late middle school I was tired of the placement that I was in. I was tired of not having friends, Not being able to socialize with my peers, not being able to date. I also was thinking about what my life will look like after high school, I was concerned that I was going to never have friends, Never be in a relationship, and not have the social skills to make those friends. I was generally very concerned for my future. So I decided that for my 8th grade year (2017-2018) I would do my absolute best for both my behavior and academics. Throughout the year nothing changed. I was hoping that me doing well would show that I didn't need any support but at the end of the year I still had paraprofessionals in most of my classes and was being pulled out for tests. In the summer between middle school and high school all I can think about is I want high school to be different. I wanted friends, I wanted a relationship, and I had dreams of me in the student council. When I got into high school I had peer tutors along with paraprofessionals (Peer Tutors are general ed students who sign up as an elective to help special needs kids. They basically serve the role as paraprofessionals with less responsibility). I did everything again and had the exact same result. In January of 2019 (freshmen year) I decided that my current strategy wasn't working. They also started making the peer tutors fill out behavioral checklists for their student(s) by grading them on how well they behaved/followed directions and gave them badges that say "peer tutor" which made me feel singled out. Because of that the peer tutors felt more like babysitters then someone that is an equal. So I went to my special ed teacher and asked him to remove the paraprofessional and the peer tutors. He told me no and said that I needed them. I changed my strategy again and I was going to ask for the Peer Tutors to be gone first, then focus on removing the paraprofessionals. I was more concerned about the peer tutors over the paraprofessionals because I was concerned that since they were part of the student body that this was going to affect me when I was running for the student council. I was worried that they'd tell others I was special needs then people would think I was incompetent. So every 2 weeks I would ask him again to remove them and each time he would give me a different excuse on why I couldn't be alone. Here's some of the excuses he gave me: "The peer tutors need to be there to collect data", "You need to prove that you can do the work yourself", "It's not up to me. It's the general education teacher that decides if you need a peer tutor or an aide", "Peer Tutors are supposed to represent a trainer for a job. If you refuse training then you're going to get fired". I brought it up again during my yearly IEP which took place in March. Once again my teacher said no, bringing up another excuse. As far as I can remember, my parents were neutral about the aide situation. Later one peer tutor was removed, what happened is that the peer tutor moved to a different town and they didn't bother on sending a substitute. A win is a win so I celebrated it. At the end of my freshman year I was pretty much defeated and didn't achieve the goal of being 100% independent. Over the summer I took a look at my situation and decided that my current plan is not working. I knew that when my sophomore year of high school starts I will have aides and peer tutors in classes. I knew that if I wanted to get what I wanted I would have to do something big. I knew that I would have to put up a fight, and put in a lot more effort. Over the summer I developed a war mindset inspired by two quotes from Sun Tzu:
"Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win”
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
I knew that I can't be going into sophomore year blind, so I started drafting a plan. I created a Google doc outlining my goals and what I wanted to accomplish. I knew that I won't be able to win every battle and that I need to choose which fight is worth fighting for. I thought to myself, “Well the peer tutors we're given training on the first day of school and probably have strategies to deal with poor behavior but what about planned well organized protests?” So I began researching strategies on how paraprofessionals/peer tutors dealt with negative behavior and reverse engineered those tactics. I read forms, I Watched YouTube videos and found as much information that I could find. For the peer tutors I didn't know too much about them. I didn't know if it was something that only my school did or if other schools did it. I did some research and found out that other schools had a peer tutor program and some have uploaded training videos on YouTube. Some peer tutors told me that they did babysitting and did nanny work so I looked up babysitting tips. I reverse engineered all of those tactics and came up with strategies to counter those techniques and put all that information that I learned into a google doc that I can use for future reference. During this time I also researched how to become a better negotiator and started learning a little bit of psychology. The plan was to first negotiate and if that doesn't work I will protest and make demands and negotiate. Over the summer I got really good at negotiating and practiced a lot on my father and my sister (they were totally oblivious). To this day I use those negotiating tactics. After I created my document and was satisfied with all the information, I went to bed that night and knew that I have already won and that my sophomore year will be my last year that I 1-1 peer tutor or aide.
Fast forward to the first day of school, as expected I had peer tutors and aides assigned to me in classes. My sped teacher had a chalkboard On the back wall full of sticky notes that had everyone's schedules and a name of someone was assigned to that student for each class. This time around I only had one peer tutor outside of the special ed classes. This is a big improvement over the three I had before but I still have my original goal of having none. For the paraprofessionals I had 2 in Gen classes.The goal was to first remove the peer tutors then the paraprofessionals. Even though this seems to be an improvement I continued with the plan. Since this was the first day, the peer tutors were in another classroom learning policies and other stuff they needed to know so I was alone for the day. I walked over to my special ed teacher and ask him one final time to remove the peer tutor he says no and then I asked him to let me be alone for 2 weeks so I can prove I don't need help and he still denies me. I then tell him that I will allow the peer tutor for 2 weeks and after that she needs to go. My teacher doesn't respond. (To add context the peer tutor that I had, she was a peer tutor in my math class in the prior semester so I already know who she was. We used to talk a lot and was surprised when I saw that she was assigned to me.)
For 2 weeks she mostly left me alone with her occasionally checking up on me. For those 2 weeks I purposely close my self off and adopted a body language that would subconsciously discourage her from approaching me. I did this by keeping my head low and staying as focused as possible. The only thing she did was confront me when I start packing up 2 minutes before the bell rings. She tells me that I shouldn't be packing up and to pull my stuff out again. I tell her no and hold my ground. She writes in my planner that I packed my stuff up early and refuse to pull it out. That happened like 2 or 3 times. On Thursday on the second week my class was tasked to create a PowerPoint. FYI this was a mythology class, while I was doing this PowerPoint I decided instead of manually trying to type in the locations and people from this mythology which the names were very long and complicated. I decided would be easier just to copy and paste them in. My peer tutor sees me doing this and doesn't say anything. At the end of class she writes that I plagiarized in my planner and tells my special ed teacher in person what happened. My sped teacher pulls me out of class (I had his math class right after mythology) and starts telling me that my peer tutor has seen me copy and pasting paragraphs and goes on this lecturing on why plagiarizing is bad. I explained to him that I wasn't copying paragraphs It was only copying names and locations and explain my reason for it. He didn't believe me but he didn't make me retake the assignment. After that I was pissed off and the next day I confronted her about it. I forgot what her reasoning for not telling me was but I told her that she needs to look into things before she makes false reports. After that incident, I decided to wait a week before I ask my teacher to remove her. Also during those first 3 weeks I turned down help from peer tutors and paras if possible In the special ed classroom. I did this to prevent sending any mix signals. I personally didn't mind if I had to work with a peer tutopara or not In the actual sped classroom. I only cared if it was in any of the general education classes. I just thought it would look contradictory if I was accepting help in the sped class and then requesting peer tutors to be removed from my gen classes.
At the beginning of the fourth week I went to school early and went to my sped teacher's class before first hour starts and then I again asked him to remove the peer tutor and the paraprofessionals. He says no again and brings up that I was being academically dishonest by plagiarizing. I tell my side of the story once again on what happened and he still doesn't believe me. At this point I leave and more pissed off. At this point negotiations didn't work so I started small protests by preventing the peer tutors from filling out my planer and the behavioral checklist. Most of them didn't care since there was other students they can fill out and they only need to fill out one to be graded for the day. One peer tutor gave me the puppy dog eye treatment and I eventually cave and let her fill it out. I still let the one peer tutor that was assigned to me in the gen class due to me being the only student and my intention wasn't to ruin, her grade. During the fourth week I began brainstorming ideas on how I can do a massive protest.
On Thursday of the fourth week of school, a walk into the mythology class and it started out like any other day. Class started and my teacher starts talking. I pull up my phone to respond to some messages and my peer tutor sees me. She asks me to hand my phone over to her and I tell her no. She tells me that I can't be on my phone and I tell her okay but I'm still not giving it to you. She then pulls out her phone and puts it on the table. She then tells me to put my phone on the table. I tell her no again. A few minutes past and the teacher finishes up talking. She passes the assignment and immediately my peer tutor begins to try and help by reading the questions. I slide the packet over closer to me and start ignoring her. I was hoping that she will get the hint and leave me alone. She doesn't so put on my hoodie and tried to mentally block her out. I don't remember what she said during all this since I was blocking it out but I do remember her touching me and the general ed teacher coming over and start assisting the peer tutor. It was a lot of pressure and I was actually about to give up because it was too much. But they both gaved up before I did and I was very relieved. After that, the class was pretty much quiet. The peer tutor wrote an entire paragraph on what happened. I walked to my math class and sat down. I then see my peer tutor walking into class and ask for my sped teacher. I already knew it was about me. I see them talk for 2 minutes and sure enough I see my teacher calling me over. I walked outside the classroom and me and the teacher begin to go at it. We end up saying the same things we have said before. However, my teacher this time mentioned that if I keep up my behavior that he's going to call in a meeting with my parents. The rest of math class was pretty much the same. However, my English class with the same teacher he went on a rant about using accommodations seeing that he had a disability growing up which was tourette's and he were love to have a peer tutor. I was quiet for the whole class since I was already exhausted because of everything else that had already happened. For the rest of the weekend, I've been coming up with plans on how I would be able to pull off a massive protest.
Now for the good news. On the fifth week of school, I noticed that my peer tutor was missing. My teacher pulled me aside again and told me that he decided that he was going to pull her for 2 weeks to see how well I would do without her. I told him thank you, that's what I wanted since the beginning of the school year. After those 2 weeks he didn't reinstate her and I didn't have a peer tutor or paraprofessionals in gen classes since. The deal moving forward was as long as I had a D or better he wasn't going to send any support unless I asked for it. My relationship with that sped teacher also had improved significantly. Later in my Junior year of high school I ran in my school's election and won. I was given the social media position.
In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't have to pull off a big protest. But the same time I wish that this situation could have ended in a different way.
Everything that I just told you is only the tip of the iceberg. There's so much detail that I had to leave out just to make this story shorter. Lot of it I'm still processing even though I found great strength in myself fighting back against a system that I believe was ruining my life. That war mindset hasn't left my mentality yet. I'm still dealing with the consequences of me being in special ed. Everything I told you happened 5 years ago and I'm still living through it like it just happened. I'm mentally recovering and eventually I will recover. Right now I'm in therapy and I'm writing down everything I can in a Google doc to process everything emotionally. Maybe one day I'll give that story to a writer and make a book out of it.
If you have any questions feel free ask them, I would love to answer them.

Today I want to tell my story of how I self-advocated and what I did to achieve that goal. I'm telling my story to help those who are in a similar position to what I was in and to inspire those to self-advocate.
To recap from my earlier posts. I have ADHD and fell under the "multiple disabilities" characterization. My high school teacher claimed that I have autism (Not diagnosed). I personally don't believe I have autism or at the very least I have a high functioning autism. Throughout most of my school career, I was in a self-contained classroom with kids with severe disabilities. Even if I was in the general population I had a paraprofessional or peer tutor. I never believed that I should have been in that position. As a consequence, I never really learned any social skills, I was segregated, and felt like that people didn't want anything to do with me because I was sped. The reason why I ended up in this position was probably a combination of me having the "multiple disabilities'' characterization and me testing low in three year revaluation tests. If you want more info on this then feel free to search my profile. This is an alt account and is primarily used to ask questions about special ed so It's really easy to find stuff about me.
Before I get into my story I just want to make it clear that I'm not against special ed. There's good and bad people in every profession. I believed I was in danger for myself and for my future. I don't believe that my teacher was evil and had the best of intentions but he was putting me in a position that was hurting me and I had to act. If you have any questions or feedback feel free to let me know in the comments. Another thing is that this post has been really hard to make. It opened up some old wounds and as a result took several days to write.
Here's my story: So in late middle school I was tired of the placement that I was in. I was tired of not having friends, Not being able to socialize with my peers, not being able to date. I also was thinking about what my life will look like after high school, I was concerned that I was going to never have friends, Never be in a relationship, and not have the social skills to make those friends. I was generally very concerned for my future. So I decided that for my 8th grade year (2017-2018) I would do my absolute best for both my behavior and academics. Throughout the year nothing changed. I was hoping that me doing well would show that I didn't need any support but at the end of the year I still had paraprofessionals in most of my classes and was being pulled out for tests. In the summer between middle school and high school all I can think about is I want high school to be different. I wanted friends, I wanted a relationship, and I had dreams of me in the student council. When I got into high school I had peer tutors along with paraprofessionals (Peer Tutors are general ed students who sign up as an elective to help special needs kids. They basically serve the role as paraprofessionals with less responsibility). I did everything again and had the exact same result. In January of 2019 (freshmen year) I decided that my current strategy wasn't working. They also started making the peer tutors fill out behavioral checklists for their student(s) by grading them on how well they behaved/followed directions and gave them badges that say "peer tutor" which made me feel singled out. Because of that the peer tutors felt more like babysitters then someone that is an equal. So I went to my special ed teacher and asked him to remove the paraprofessional and the peer tutors. He told me no and said that I needed them. I changed my strategy again and I was going to ask for the Peer Tutors to be gone first, then focus on removing the paraprofessionals. I was more concerned about the peer tutors over the paraprofessionals because I was concerned that since they were part of the student body that this was going to affect me when I was running for the student council. I was worried that they'd tell others I was special needs then people would think I was incompetent. So every 2 weeks I would ask him again to remove them and each time he would give me a different excuse on why I couldn't be alone. Here's some of the excuses he gave me: "The peer tutors need to be there to collect data", "You need to prove that you can do the work yourself", "It's not up to me. It's the general education teacher that decides if you need a peer tutor or an aide", "Peer Tutors are supposed to represent a trainer for a job. If you refuse training then you're going to get fired". I brought it up again during my yearly IEP which took place in March. Once again my teacher said no, bringing up another excuse. As far as I can remember, my parents were neutral about the aide situation. Later one peer tutor was removed, what happened is that the peer tutor moved to a different town and they didn't bother on sending a substitute. A win is a win so I celebrated it. At the end of my freshman year I was pretty much defeated and didn't achieve the goal of being 100% independent. Over the summer I took a look at my situation and decided that my current plan is not working. I knew that when my sophomore year of high school starts I will have aides and peer tutors in classes. I knew that if I wanted to get what I wanted I would have to do something big. I knew that I would have to put up a fight, and put in a lot more effort. Over the summer I developed a war mindset inspired by two quotes from Sun Tzu:
"Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win”
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
I knew that I can't be going into sophomore year blind, so I started drafting a plan. I created a Google doc outlining my goals and what I wanted to accomplish. I knew that I won't be able to win every battle and that I need to choose which fight is worth fighting for. I thought to myself, “Well the peer tutors we're given training on the first day of school and probably have strategies to deal with poor behavior but what about planned well organized protests?” So I began researching strategies on how paraprofessionals/peer tutors dealt with negative behavior and reverse engineered those tactics. I read forms, I Watched YouTube videos and found as much information that I could find. For the peer tutors I didn't know too much about them. I didn't know if it was something that only my school did or if other schools did it. I did some research and found out that other schools had a peer tutor program and some have uploaded training videos on YouTube. Some peer tutors told me that they did babysitting and did nanny work so I looked up babysitting tips. I reverse engineered all of those tactics and came up with strategies to counter those techniques and put all that information that I learned into a google doc that I can use for future reference. During this time I also researched how to become a better negotiator and started learning a little bit of psychology. The plan was to first negotiate and if that doesn't work I will protest and make demands and negotiate. Over the summer I got really good at negotiating and practiced a lot on my father and my sister (they were totally oblivious). To this day I use those negotiating tactics. After I created my document and was satisfied with all the information, I went to bed that night and knew that I have already won and that my sophomore year will be my last year that I 1-1 peer tutor or aide.
Fast forward to the first day of school, as expected I had peer tutors and aides assigned to me in classes. My sped teacher had a chalkboard On the back wall full of sticky notes that had everyone's schedules and a name of someone was assigned to that student for each class. This time around I only had one peer tutor outside of the special ed classes. This is a big improvement over the three I had before but I still have my original goal of having none. For the paraprofessionals I had 2 in Gen classes.The goal was to first remove the peer tutors then the paraprofessionals. Even though this seems to be an improvement I continued with the plan. Since this was the first day, the peer tutors were in another classroom learning policies and other stuff they needed to know so I was alone for the day. I walked over to my special ed teacher and ask him one final time to remove the peer tutor he says no and then I asked him to let me be alone for 2 weeks so I can prove I don't need help and he still denies me. I then tell him that I will allow the peer tutor for 2 weeks and after that she needs to go. My teacher doesn't respond. (To add context the peer tutor that I had, she was a peer tutor in my math class in the prior semester so I already know who she was. We used to talk a lot and was surprised when I saw that she was assigned to me.)
For 2 weeks she mostly left me alone with her occasionally checking up on me. For those 2 weeks I purposely close my self off and adopted a body language that would subconsciously discourage her from approaching me. I did this by keeping my head low and staying as focused as possible. The only thing she did was confront me when I start packing up 2 minutes before the bell rings. She tells me that I shouldn't be packing up and to pull my stuff out again. I tell her no and hold my ground. She writes in my planner that I packed my stuff up early and refuse to pull it out. That happened like 2 or 3 times. On Thursday on the second week my class was tasked to create a PowerPoint. FYI this was a mythology class, while I was doing this PowerPoint I decided instead of manually trying to type in the locations and people from this mythology which the names were very long and complicated. I decided would be easier just to copy and paste them in. My peer tutor sees me doing this and doesn't say anything. At the end of class she writes that I plagiarized in my planner and tells my special ed teacher in person what happened. My sped teacher pulls me out of class (I had his math class right after mythology) and starts telling me that my peer tutor has seen me copy and pasting paragraphs and goes on this lecturing on why plagiarizing is bad. I explained to him that I wasn't copying paragraphs It was only copying names and locations and explain my reason for it. He didn't believe me but he didn't make me retake the assignment. After that I was pissed off and the next day I confronted her about it. I forgot what her reasoning for not telling me was but I told her that she needs to look into things before she makes false reports. After that incident, I decided to wait a week before I ask my teacher to remove her. Also during those first 3 weeks I turned down help from peer tutors and paras if possible In the special ed classroom. I did this to prevent sending any mix signals. I personally didn't mind if I had to work with a peer tutopara or not In the actual sped classroom. I only cared if it was in any of the general education classes. I just thought it would look contradictory if I was accepting help in the sped class and then requesting peer tutors to be removed from my gen classes.
At the beginning of the fourth week I went to school early and went to my sped teacher's class before first hour starts and then I again asked him to remove the peer tutor and the paraprofessionals. He says no again and brings up that I was being academically dishonest by plagiarizing. I tell my side of the story once again on what happened and he still doesn't believe me. At this point I leave and more pissed off. At this point negotiations didn't work so I started small protests by preventing the peer tutors from filling out my planer and the behavioral checklist. Most of them didn't care since there was other students they can fill out and they only need to fill out one to be graded for the day. One peer tutor gave me the puppy dog eye treatment and I eventually cave and let her fill it out. I still let the one peer tutor that was assigned to me in the gen class due to me being the only student and my intention wasn't to ruin, her grade. During the fourth week I began brainstorming ideas on how I can do a massive protest.
On Thursday of the fourth week of school, a walk into the mythology class and it started out like any other day. Class started and my teacher starts talking. I pull up my phone to respond to some messages and my peer tutor sees me. She asks me to hand my phone over to her and I tell her no. She tells me that I can't be on my phone and I tell her okay but I'm still not giving it to you. She then pulls out her phone and puts it on the table. She then tells me to put my phone on the table. I tell her no again. A few minutes past and the teacher finishes up talking. She passes the assignment and immediately my peer tutor begins to try and help by reading the questions. I slide the packet over closer to me and start ignoring her. I was hoping that she will get the hint and leave me alone. She doesn't so put on my hoodie and tried to mentally block her out. I don't remember what she said during all this since I was blocking it out but I do remember her touching me and the general ed teacher coming over and start assisting the peer tutor. It was a lot of pressure and I was actually about to give up because it was too much. But they both gaved up before I did and I was very relieved. After that, the class was pretty much quiet. The peer tutor wrote an entire paragraph on what happened. I walked to my math class and sat down. I then see my peer tutor walking into class and ask for my sped teacher. I already knew it was about me. I see them talk for 2 minutes and sure enough I see my teacher calling me over. I walked outside the classroom and me and the teacher begin to go at it. We end up saying the same things we have said before. However, my teacher this time mentioned that if I keep up my behavior that he's going to call in a meeting with my parents. The rest of math class was pretty much the same. However, my English class with the same teacher he went on a rant about using accommodations seeing that he had a disability growing up which was tourette's and he were love to have a peer tutor. I was quiet for the whole class since I was already exhausted because of everything else that had already happened. For the rest of the weekend, I've been coming up with plans on how I would be able to pull off a massive protest.
Now for the good news. On the fifth week of school, I noticed that my peer tutor was missing. My teacher pulled me aside again and told me that he decided that he was going to pull her for 2 weeks to see how well I would do without her. I told him thank you, that's what I wanted since the beginning of the school year. After those 2 weeks he didn't reinstate her and I didn't have a peer tutor or paraprofessionals in gen classes since. The deal moving forward was as long as I had a D or better he wasn't going to send any support unless I asked for it. My relationship with that sped teacher also had improved significantly. Later in my Junior year of high school I ran in my school's election and won. I was given the social media position.
In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't have to pull off a big protest. But the same time I wish that this situation could have ended in a different way.
Everything that I just told you is only the tip of the iceberg. There's so much detail that I had to leave out just to make this story shorter. Lot of it I'm still processing even though I found great strength in myself fighting back against a system that I believe was ruining my life. That war mindset hasn't left my mentality yet. I'm still dealing with the consequences of me being in special ed. Everything I told you happened 5 years ago and I'm still living through it like it just happened. I'm mentally recovering and eventually I will recover. Right now I'm in therapy and I'm writing down everything I can in a Google doc to process everything emotionally. Maybe one day I'll give that story to a writer and make a book out of it.
If you have any questions feel free ask them, I would love to answer them.

For context this all started 9 years ago I have had a lot of time to reflect on this and I guess I just want to share my story.
Back in 2014 during my (18 m) freshman year of college I met a girl (18 f) I'll call her A. She was fun and cool with lots of common interests. We were in the same clubs and I developed a crush on her. She had some emotional issues which made her drop out of school but she came back in the spring semester. Looking back on it I did a bit of "white knighting" for her to try to be there for her in order to have her like me. Eventually that summer we ended up fake dating because she wanted her parents to stop asking her if she was going to date anyone. Later that summer we made it official and actually dated. I visited her once during the summer and she visited me during the following fall semester because she decided that she wasn't going back to college, but I slowly started to feel more and more distant from her.
During my sophomore year I met another girl (19) (I'll call her B) and we started to get along. I was feeling lonely so I would invite her to watch a few shows in my dorm common room. I knew she had a boyfriend but I kinda got the feeling she didn't care about him much. At first I was trying to encourage my friends to date her, because they were single. She started to develop feelings for me and I developed feelings for her and we ended up hooking up. I felt terrible about it and the line from Hamilton "I wish I could say that was the last time, I said that last time, it became a pastime." Kept ringing in my head.
In the end A broke up with me. I assume that a friend of hers from the college told her what was happening. She never confronted me about it, she simply said we were better as friends abd ended it there. I felt like crap and wanted to end it there with B. B ended up using guilt to encourage me to date her properly after her boyfriend broke up with her.
We dated through out college, at first people were excited because they thought we were a cute couple. Then for a while my friends started asking me if I was happy in my relationship with B. I would tell then yes because I was young and stupid.
Skip to 2020 during the pandemic we were fresh out of college and living together. We would still have my 2 best friends over but didn't really talk to anyone else or go out much due to covid. She never liked me leaving the house or doing anything because of covid. She ended up making me miss my grandfather's birthday. Which should have been a sign, but I kept trying to rationalize it as her being worried about covid. My friends were still asking me if I was happy and it kept getting harder to say yes. I watched philosophytube's video "Men.Abuse.Trauma" and started tearing up and I couldn't understand why. I kept rationalizing it as "She isn't as bad as thier ex."
In December she broke up with me. I felt devastated because I kept trying to sacrifice more and more for her. I kept hoping and praying that there was something that I could do to make myself the perfect boyfriend agian.
4 years later I am only left with the quote from Romeo and Juliet "These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow."

[I wrote this article about Macbeth for my college's newspaper, and I thought this subreddit might enjoy reading it!]
I have joked before that Shakespeare’s two favorite subjects–surpassing love, murder, madness, and crossdressing–are botany and birds. If you’ve been to New York City you might be aware of the “Shakespeare Garden” in Central Park, whose theoretical aim (though it proves nigh-impossible in practice) is to house specimens of all the plants which Shakespeare mentions in his plays. As it turns out, Bard quotes make for quite a diverse garden: there are roses which assuredly would smell as sweet by any other name; there are daffodils, that come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of March with beauty; there’s holly, heigh-ho; there’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance, there’s pansies, that’s for thoughts, there’s fennel for you, and columbines–no word on whether or not they could find any violets, though. I suppose there’s no objection to be made against those who complain that Shakespeare’s language is “flowery”; even as vicious a villain as Iago deigns to express his philosophy on life by way of botanical metaphor: “Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.” And, of course, the plot of A Midsummer Night’s Dream revolves around a magical flower which makes people fall in love.
I doubt anyone will object to my claiming of birds as Shakespeare’s other poetical fixation: I suspect that the majority of falconry knowledge which most non-falconers have today comes from reading footnotes in their copies of Shakespeare plays, explaining exactly what Richard II means by “How high a pitch his resolution soars,” or why Hamlet says “Hillo, ho, ho” to Marcellus. But while plants are so common in Shakespeare that I don’t know of one play which we might say is especially densely forested with references to them, there is one play that stands out as particularly full of birds in comparison with the rest of the Shakespearean canon. That play is Macbeth.
This is the sort of thing that one only notices after having read a play so many times that the actual events of the plot become akin to the meter of a poem–beats which must be hit, and which start to feel so natural that one hardly notices them–and one’s attention drifts away from the big, important speeches and toward the more utilitarian words and odd little moments that bridge them. I am not the first to point it out, but it is, all the same, a delightful quirk of the play, and could be a good way for Sophomores to throw their classmates for a loop in seminar [Note: Students at our college study Macbeth during their Sophomore year.]: why are there so many birds in Macbeth?
KING. Dismay’d not this/Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? SERG. Yes,/As sparrows eagles… -Act I, Scene II
LADY. …The raven himself is hoarse/That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan… -Act I, Scene V
BAN. This guest of summer,/The temple-haunting martlet, does approve/By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breath/Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze/Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird/Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle… -Act I, Scene VI
LADY. Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman… -Act II, Scene II
LADY. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. -Act II, Scene II
PORTER. …come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose… -Act II, Scene III
PORTER. ‘Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock… -Act II, Scene III
LENNOX. New hatch’d to the woeful time: the obscure bird/Clamour’d the livelong night… -Act II, Scene III
OLD MAN. …On Tuesday last,/A falcon, towering in her pride of place,/Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d. -Act II, Scene IV
MACBETH. …Light thickens; and the crow/Makes wing to the rooky wood… -Act III, Scene II
MACBETH. If charnel-houses and our graves must send/Those that we bury back, our monuments/Shall be the maws of kites. -Act III, Scene IV
MACBETH. Augurs and understood relations have/By magot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth/The secret’st man of blood. -Act III, Scene IV
LADY MACDUFF. …the poor wren,/the most diminutive of birds, will fight,/Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. -Act IV, Scene II
LADY MACDUFF. How will you live? SON. As birds do, mother. LADY MACDUFF. What, with worms and flies? SON. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. LADY MACDUFF. Poor bird! Thou’ldst never fear the net nor lime,/The pitfall nor the gin? SON. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. -Act IV, Scene II
FIRST MURDERER. What, you egg! -Act IV, Scene II
MACDUFF. …there cannot be/That vulture in you… -Act IV, Scene III
MACDUFF. …O hell-kite! All?/What, all my pretty chickens and their dam/At one fell swoop? -Act IV, Scene III
MACBETH. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!/Where got’st thou that goose look? SERVANT. There is ten thousand– MACBETH. Geese, villain? -Act V, Scene III
Above I have listed every ornithological reference that I’ve found in the Scottish Play; as we peruse them, we certainly cannot conclude that every individual reference is of the same kind, or carries the same import. I will not pretend, for example, that, just because geese and ravens are both birds, the Porter’s invitation for the imagined English tailor to cook his goose in Hell merits as much attention as Lady Macbeth’s ominous declaration that “the raven himself is hoarse”. Nor do I think that any individual reference particularly demands explication; by itself, any one of these bird-invocations seems perfectly natural. Shakespeare’s talent is such that he can repeat a motif in such a way that on the macro level it is obvious yet on the micro level it hardly feels present. But that macro level is what interests me here: what impression is created, on the whole, by the presence of so many birds in this play? I have a theory, which, though it may seem far-fetched, I think merits at least some consideration, and which, at the very least, I have not seen stated elsewhere, and so may make a novel contribution to the conversation.
Macbeth is both Shakespeare’s most supernatural tragedy and his most Sophoclean; these two superlatives are inextricably related. The appellative Weird given to the opening scene’s three Sisters–derived from the Old English wyrd, meaning destiny, and famously given its more familiar connotation by Shakespeare himself in this very play–is, among the Bard’s works, unique to Macbeth; and just as that word appears nowhere else in Shakespeare, so is the concept it represents absent in all tragedies but this one. Though Hamlet may cry out against outrageous fortune, and though Othello may rhetoricize about how no man can control his fate, it is only in Macbeth that we truly feel that the events we see play out before us are fated, predestined, inevitable. [See Note 1.] The ghost in Hamlet commands his son to revenge his foul and most unnatural murder, but does not tell him it is certain that he will succeed; indeed, would not the drama be sapped of its intrigue if that level of certainty were present? Meanwhile, the supernatural interlopers in Macbeth offer the Scottish thane not a mission, but a prophecy: All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter! From its mystical opening word–When, not If–the Scottish play makes us aware of the certainty of all that is to befall our tragic antihero. Macbeth is thus a different sort of tragedy than Shakespeare’s others, and it works by an inverted mechanism. While the tragedy of, for example, Desdemona’s death is that it may have been prevented, the tragedy of Macbeth’s destruction is that it represents the fulfilment of fate; and this is the very same mechanism by which Oedipus Rex operates, complete with its own “Weird” character in the form of the seer Tiresias. Though Calvin managed to accept that some men are destined for greatness and others for ruin, this idea is, to Shakespeare and Sophocles, nothing short of agonizing–the stuff of tragedy.
Now: what does all of this have to do with birds? Consider these words from Antigone, spoken by Tiresias to Creon:
You shall learn, when you hear the indications of my art! As I took my place on my ancient seat for observing birds, where I can mark every bird of omen I heard a strange sound among them, since they were screeching with dire, incoherent frenzy and I knew that they were tearing each other with bloody claws, for there was a whirring of wings that made it clear… (Lloyd-Jones translation)
Consider next these words from Oedipus Tyrannus, spoken defensively by Oedipus to Tiresias:
Why, come, tell me, how can you be a true prophet? Why when the versifying hound was here did not you speak some word that could release the citizens? Indeed, her riddle was not one for the first comer to explain! It required prophetic skill, and you were exposed as having no knowledge from the birds or from the gods. No, it was I that came, Oedipus who knew nothing, and put a stop to her; I hit the mark by native wit, not by what I learned from birds. (Lloyd-Jones translation)
The practice of divining the future from birds–be it from their behaviors, their cries, or their innards–was, to Sophocles and his contemporaries, not superstitious hokum, but a practical science at which one could be skilled or unskilled, and it bodes ill for Oedipus that he is so quick to disregard it in favor of his own native wit. [See Note 2] By Shakespeare’s day, the practice had long been relegated to the realm of outdated hocus-pocus, but the Bard still saw some truth in it; in Macbeth, there is a recurring sense that, when the world is sick with some great wrong, its first symptoms manifest in the behavior of birds. When the “fatal bellman” the owl shrieks in the night, Lady Macbeth takes it as a sign that her husband is about his bloody business. The day after the murder of Duncan, as Ross converses with an Old Man about the strange things they’ve seen the previous night, “unnatural/Even as the deed that’s done”, the killing of a falcon by a mousing-owl–an omen straight out of Sophocles–is mentioned before the madness and cannibalism of Duncan’s horses, even though the latter would surely be more immediately noticeable and ghastly than the former.
These are the most obvious examples of birds as ill omens in Macbeth; yet even the more innocuous invocations of birds throughout the rest of the play continually turn our thoughts back to the ancient Greek understanding of fate and prophecy, and thereby remind us that, however savagely he may fight at Dunsinane, Macbeth’s fate is as fixed as that of Oedipus. The birds have already foretold all.
Note 1: The closest thing there is to this kind of fatalness in another Shakespearean tragedy is the several superstitious occurrences in Julius Caesar–both the soothsayer’s message of “Beware the ides of March” and the bestial portents such as the lack of a heart in an offering and the whelping of a lioness in the streets. Still, I will insist that these omens do not convey a sense of fatedness to the audience as strongly as the Weird Sisters in Macbeth by virtue of their being told to Caesar himself, not to Brutus, the play’s true protagonist, and by the fact that Shakespeare elsewhere uses dialogue to throw some doubt upon the idea of predestination: "Men at some times are masters of their fates:/The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,/But in ourselves, that we are underlings." -I.ii
Note 2: The Liddell-Scott Greek Lexicon identifies at least two separate verbs referring to bird-based divination, both of which are present in the quoted passages: Tiresias uses ορνϊθοσκοπέομαι, observe birds, interpret their flight and cries, while Oedipus uses οιωνίζομαι, take omens from the flight and cries of birds. The latter term comes from οιωνος, a large bird, bird of prey, such as a vulture or eagle, and so distinguished from a common bird, while the former comes from ορνις, which more generally refers to a bird, including birds of prey and domestic fowls. Birds of both kinds are present in Macbeth; there are οιωναι, such as the “falcon, towering in her pride of place”, as well as ορνες, like the Porter’s goose and cock. I therefore see little value in interrogating the kinds of birds invoked by Shakespeare, the specific cultural associations and significance of the owl, the raven, or the wren; rather, if we reduce them down to their barest existence as birds, animals of the class Aves, and consider them in an ancient Greek light, then things become a bit clearer.

Hey I know we talk to each other all the time but this is so much more than the talks we have everyday, this is my way to say how grateful I am for the motivation and support that I’ve received from you through life and school itself.
Since I moved to the U.S I have moved to a lot of states before finding the stability I found when I moved to Hartford. The first time I got to Hartford I was with the expectation of enjoying it the least knowing that probably in any time longer I was probably moving again. It was post- covid so school in person was optional, when I started school I only had to go there for only a month because we moved really late in the school year. You were the only person who I knew, the only person who supported me when I got told that my credits wouldn’t work for me to be in 11th grade so I got lowered. You were so happy about it, we were gonna graduate together but you knew I wasn’t so happy because my biggest goal was to graduate. School sophomore year and I got to know your friends. My whole summer I wished for school to start so I could see that “friend” I made, but I suppose summer made me forget you had a life before I came to it. My second year of high school and the worst decisions of my whole life. “The people you surround yourself with are excellent mirrors for who you are” I don’t really know who said that but i’m pretty sure he didn’t lie with that quote. My sophomore year was surrounded with bad friends and a lot of skipping class and disrespecting teachers just because “school wasn’t that important in sophomore year”, you made my Bulkeley school years important. At the middle of the year you were there reminding me my purpose and that after finishing something another thing always started. There’s no more way of saying how thankful I am for you being my friend, for you showing me how to look better to myself. You gave me power to get to try things I was really scared to try before and even cheered me while doing those things. You made a group of friends who were comfortable with themselves and with each other and that is the most valuable thing to me. You made me feel like I was gonna stay forever with you all, and it didn’t happen. I knew that good things don’t last very long but I was never ready to let go of any of y’all. I’m so grateful I got to know y’all, Kharla, Martin, Jeremy, Zari, Jennifer, Natalie, and to me the most important, You. Thank you so much Dani for being the person who gives me motivation to be who I am right now. There’s no one else that I would dedicate a letter of gratitude to than to you. Thank You

I (23F) grew up in an extremely rural, non diverse area. When I was younger ( around 15) I moved to a more diverse area and started working at a chain resturant. One of my coworkers (25 Ish at the time) who was a black woman, always wore her hair natural but on this day she had straightened her hair. I am someone who compliments people a lot. If I see someone wearing something that I like, I will always go out of my way to give a quick “I love your shoes!” or “Your makeup looks beautiful!”. So, noticing that she had seemingly put in extra effort to do something new to her hair, naturally I said “You did your hair different! It looks pretty!” I didnt think twice of it, but she turned around, gave me the nastiest look, and said “Just an FYI, most black women actually DONT like it when you comment on straight hair.” I was taken aback, because I didnt mean to offend her, and because I didnt grow up in a diverse area, I had no idea that this would be seen as offensive. I gave her a quick apology, just saying “Im sorry, I didnt know that comment was offensive, thank you for letting me know.” I havent thought about that interaction in YEARS, seeing as Ive moved on in life, moved to a different city, and had many phases of life (graduating highschool, graduating college, starting my career, literally a lifetime) given its been nearly 8 years. Me and her are still mutuals on social media. I was scrolling through twitter when I saw that she had quote tweeted a post. The OG post was “What is the dumbest thing a YT person has ever told you?”, she quote tweeted the story, but added a lot of derogatory launguage about my weight at the time (I was nearly 200 pounds, I have since lost over 90 pounds), saying that the “fat white bitch needed to worry more about what she was eating than what I was doing to my hair.” I am genuinely confused. I understand now, as a woman in her early 20s with much more life under her belt, that its better to not comment on black peoples hair, but I really dont think this two second interaction that happened when she was in her mid twenties and when I was a sophomore in high school warranted this kind of hate. She also commented on my hair at the time (I went through an “emo phase”, deciding to dye my hair pink and black) saying that at least she could afford to go to a hair salon, instead of having to resort to “cheap ass” home methods. I am at a loss, we were pretty cool other than that small interaction and have not talked in years. AITA? Was my comment really that offensive?

There was a boy. I’d known him since I was 5 but it wasn’t until I was older that I truly noticed him. We were in 6th grade when we started taking an advanced math class together. I could tell he was smart, funny, and a person I’d want to be around for a long time. Middle school and all the drama that ensues during that time quickly invaded my life. My social group shifted and I found myself closer to my friend, Dakota. By the time we were in 7th grade he was tall and strong. Blond hair and a light greenish set of smart eyes. We started working together outside of school. My dad worked for his dad and I often found myself at their house. Dakota had one older brother, a younger brother, and a younger sister. I’m the oldest of four so I could handle the chaos of lots of kids in a home. I had some of my most fun memories in middle school at that home. Not just me and Dakota, but with other friends we worked with, our siblings, and family friends. Nerf gun fights, swimming in the pool, and playing manhunt on the homestead that they lived on. I developed what you could consider a crush on Dakota. And the feeling was mutual. He hinted with the not-so-subtle flirting of a 14 year old boy. Pulling my hair, taking my things, and throwing snacks were often his go-to moves.
One night at a Christmas party, us “kids” were watching a movie while the adults played games and hung out in the other room. At some point, his head ended up on my lap. I remember touching his hair, but ultimately deciding I did NOT want someone to see this and assume the worse. Another time, we were alone in the basement. The basement was the place of all our friend hangouts. The video and board games were down there, along with the nerf guns. One night we were on the couch showing each other memes from our iPod touches. We were laughing and joking, then he handed me his iPod to read the next one. Except this wasn’t a meme: it was his notes app. On the screen it said “I think you are beautiful”. I instantly blushed and tried to hide my face. “Me?.....” I looked at him, also blushing red and he nodded. I told him thank you. It was the first time any boy had told me I was beautiful. In my own eyes, I was not. I had a big tooth gap because my parents couldn’t afford braces, and I wore glasses. I don’t know what he saw, but I appreciated the flattering compliment.
We entered high school where once again, your life shifts. You are faced with new teachers, new course materials, new teammates, and new challenges. We remained close friends through this time, by taking enough classes together and being involved with the same friends. It was nearing the fall homecoming season and I was nervous about getting a date. I saw many older boys asking girls to be their dates and I wondered if I would even have one my freshman year. Leave it up to my best friend Anna to set me up.
I clearly remember it was a Sunday night and I was watching football. My mom tells me she got a text from Dakota’s mom that there was a book she needed to grab from their house. She told me I needed to go with her. Without any context, I was annoyed she was making ME drive her there since I did not want to leave home. They lived about 5 minutes away so I figured the faster we leave the quicker I can get back home. Mom told me I should brush my hair.
“Why?”
“Well because you should look a little presentable.”
“It’s fine right, we’re just grabbing a book really quick, right?”
“Yes but you don’t want to leave the house looking like you do.”
I huffed and opened our sliding glass door going outside to the car.
“You should at least put some shoes on!”
“I’m FINE, Can we just go and get this over with”
I angrily and annoyed drove/ sped down the paved road to their house, all the while questioning my mother why she really needed me to go with her.
“I don’t know, there might be something there for you.”
I had no idea what that meant. We drove to the shop on their property that this supposed book was. I stepped out of the car, barefoot on the gravel and walked into the shop. There I see Dakota, holding a sign. I frantically looked around to figure out what was going on. I see Anna crouched in a corner covering her smiling mouth. I looked at his sign and read the homecoming proposal which used lyrics and titles from Beatles songs, my favorite band.
“Oh, Dakota! Of course yes!”
I gave him an awkward hug and turned around to realize that my mother didn’t need a book at all.
Dakota was sweet. In an innocent way. He had casually asked before if we could date, but being the reserved and shy individual I was, I had always declined. After the dance, we drifted, not for any particular reason. I heard he had started dating a different girl. She was older by two years. Was I hurt? Not particularly. Was I jealous? Maybe a little more so. They went to prom together and she was definitely way prettier than me. It happens, I thought, we aren’t meant to be. A romantic relationship would definitely change our entire chemistry.
Summer came and we were out working together on his family’s farm. We spent hours in the fields, talking, singing, and sweating. Just good friends again. It was normal and felt right. We spent a week together in late July on a church trip. We worked on a homeless shelter with our youth group and had a fun yet powerful time together. My mom, dad, and brother were on this trip as well, along with many of our church friends. After the week was done on Saturday, we drove back to our town. I remember waving goodbye to his family in their Suburban as they left the church parking lot. I didn’t realize how significant that goodbye would be.
A few days went by and we had casual texting conversations about work and school starting in the next few weeks. He texted me Tuesday night that his dad really needed some help the next morning bright and early. I wanted to sleep in. He texted “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get it covered.” A decision I’d soon regret.
Wednesday morning, I go to the church with my mom to do a couple of things with her. I can’t even recall what it was. We were getting into our car when we heard loud sirens throughout our small town. Mom and I looked at each other. Sirens are never a good sign. We get in the car, curious, but praying whoever needs the ambulance is okay. My mom gets a phone call. It’s one of our family friends. She says Dakota and his older brother have been in a bad car accident. That heavy feeling that makes your heart sink to your stomach instantly hit me. “They’re okay, they’re okay, they’re okay.” I kept telling myself. The ambulance was going fast, and Dakota is strong. He’s practically invincible. My mother’s friend tells us that we should stop by Dakota’s house to grab the boys clean clothes and bring them to the emergency room. We drive in silence, except for maybe a short prayer that the boys are okay. We get to the house and my mom quickly runs up the stairs to the boys’ bedroom. I stay downstairs. I observe the dining room. Dirty laundry in the baskets. Dirty dishes on the counter. Dakota’s name on a marker board along with a list of chores to do. We speed to the emergency room in the nearby town. On the way we received a text from Dakota’s older brother, John. He said he was doing okay but he wasn’t sure about Dakota. We should be keeping their family in our prayers. The panic was rising in my throat. I had been nervous about things before. This was different. It was like a nauseating churn that started in my stomach. Like my soul was shaking out of my physical body. We got to the hospital, parked and my mom said I should stay in the car. Probably wanting to protect me from any scarring sights within the ER. I wanted to go in. Could I see him? She insisted that I stay in the car. I stayed. Frozen at first. Then rocking back and forth. My palms were shaking and itchy in the center.
“This can’t be happening. Not Dakota. He’s like my best friend. Kids don’t die. He’s too young. Too smart. He has an incredibly successful life ahead of him.”
I was eyeing the automatic door for any sign of someone that I recognized. The ten minutes I waited felt like an hour. Ten minutes of restless uncertainty. Then I see my mom. She had one of the hardest faces that I had ever seen her make. She opened the driver’s side door and I immediately asked “What’s going on. Is he ok?!”
She looks at me dead in the eyes, shaking her head, “He didn’t make it, Jasmine”
A million emotions and questions flood my brain. I started blubbering and sobbing while hitting the dashboard. “No, no, no. Why!? Why him?” My mom breaks down with me, not able to get out a single word. The family friend who delivered the phone call joins us in the car. She says Dakota’s in a better place now. I’m in a state of shock and disbelief. Hot tears will not stop streaming down my cheeks. We were silent on the way back home. I ran upstairs to my room and shut the door. I cried into a pillow for the rest of the afternoon. I skipped dinner. There was a candlelight vigil that evening at a church. I barely had the strength to go, but my mom said it would be good for me. I brought my water bottle. I ate nothing and only drank water to replenish my tears the next two days. Saturday morning, I went to a different church with my family to see Dakota’s family. The church’s youth were making survivor bracelets out of parachute cord. Dakota had made them during his depressive episodes during his 9th grade year, when we somewhat drifted. Dakota and I took Spanish class together our freshman year. One day he asked me what my favorite color was. I told him blue. The next day he gave me a blue bracelet he had made. He said he accidentally made one too small. I was instantly brought back to that moment while standing in the church with dozens of people learning how to braid the cord. When I got home, I tore apart my vanity in search for the bracelet he had made for me. I put it on my right hand. I wore the bracelet everyday for an entire year. I had a Dakota original.
Dakota’s brother, John, who was entering his senior year, invited many of us friends to go out to the place where the accident happened. It was a blind intersection that I had previously been weary of earlier that summer. The corn was high and there were no road signs for a yield or stop. John explained how they had just got in the truck after working the field about a half mile south and were going to take their lunch break. He said they had just started going down the road, picking up speed, when he heard a small voice tell him to put his seatbelt on. John put his seatbelt on, but Dakota didn’t. John said he felt as if there was something around the corner, but ultimately did not slow down near the intersection. A driver, going 50 miles per hour, t-boned them in the intersection. According to John, the truck rolled and Dakota was thrown through the windshield. John found his phone and quickly called 911. He found Dakota and blood was coming from his mouth. He had a large wound on his forehead where he had smashed the dashboard. John pulled him into the field of soybeans, opposite the corn, and tried performing CPR. Dakota was mumbling and sputtering blood before his breathing stopped. The paramedics pronounced him dead at the scene. They said he was internally decapitated.
The wake for Dakota was on Sunday night. I had a tough time finding the strength to go. We waited in line behind dozens of people for close to an hour. When I finally got up to him, my heart sank again. There he was. His skin was pale. His hair was not right. His mother, who was right by, said it was okay to touch him. I reached for his hair to move it how he usually wore it. As I parted it, I saw the large scar covered by gobs of makeup that the hair was covering on his forehead. I put it back.
His funeral was the next day. Monday. At 1:18PM, his birthday date. I felt sick the whole morning. My whole family got in the car and my mom was talking to my younger siblings. I was silent. I was going to one of my best friends’ funerals. The church where the funeral was held was absolutely packed. Parked cars took up the surrounding blocks. The church had multiple floors and rooms with casted video of the celebration of life. I was considered close enough to sit in the sanctuary in the front half of the pews. I sat with my gifted teacher and other friends from the gifted program. What a terrible way to end your summer. Saying hello to people you haven’t seen in a few months at a funeral. I remember the funeral. There were songs and the service was led in large by Dakota’s own mother. To this day I have no idea how she had the strength to do that. I remember a few of the songs that were sung, but I’ll never forget the sound of the casket closing. The last goodbye. The final SLAM. His face would never again have sunlight shown upon it. Never again would a person touch him, hold him, hug him.
My family tried to get out to the burial but the crowd was just too insanely large to get around. I had the final say that we could go home. I’d come back another time.
The next day, I went to the scene of the accident. It was an intersection 5 miles east of my house. Someone had put up a make-shift cross at the intersection. I brought a big University of Kansas patch from one of our gifted trips to place at the cross. He loved basketball, and especially the Jayhawks. On the back of the patch I had written “I love you”. That night, there was a big storm. I sat up straight in bed and started crying as the wind whistled by my windows. The patch.
When I woke up, I found a reason to leave home and went back out to the intersection. I ran up to the cross and found my patch wrapped tightly around the base with some old barbed wire. I burst into tears of relief. I have no idea who saved my patch.
The next two weeks were spent preparing for school and fall practice. I had decided to do tennis that fall instead of volleyball. On the first day of school, I rode the bus into the town with my school. We drove past the intersection and I burst into tears. I cried four more times that day. Each time in the class he should have been in with me. I was distraught. I have no other way to describe how absolutely depressed I was walking the halls. Teachers were not the same. There was an absence in our sophomore class. An absence on our football team. In our audition choir. In our youth group. And in me. I tried my best to get through it. I started journaling a little bit after the accident to help organize my thoughts. To remember all the little details I could about him. To write them down so they didn’t disappear.
My sophomore year was brutal. I was playing tennis in the fall with a small team of girls who helped to create a safe and calm environment for me. I spent all of my hours in the team vehicle listening to two Lifehouse albums on repeat. I’d look out the window and reflect. What was life? What was my purpose? Why did this happen?
I didn’t have an answer. I bottled it up. It seemed that a lot of my class who weren’t very close with Dakota had a lot easier time going back to their normal lives. I was missing a friend. There was a contact in my phone from whom I’d never received another text. I had unfinished business. We had talked all summer about how our math class and Spanish II classes would be so fun this year. The bracelet I wore everyday was getting a stark tan line.
The semester rolled on. One of my other close friends moved to Colorado. And my last best friend, Anna, was in her own self-discovery phase. She wasn’t as close to Dakota and I was more or less a depressed teen at that time. I cried at school. In the bathrooms. In the locker room or a small music practice room. Am I just that sensitive? Why is no one else dealing with this grief like I am? I tried to distract myself with various activities. It worked for the most part. In the spring, I went out for softball. I loved softball. I had been playing it for years. I even had helped “assistant coach” a little girls rec league with Dakota and his family a few summers beforehand. Softball was hard but I needed the challenge. I worked hard at the sport and found myself on the varsity team after multiple players were out for the season due to injury or illness. In the last regular season game, on May 9th on our home field, I broke my leg. I had a high impact with the catcher while trying to steal home. The ump called me safe and we won the game by a run rule as I crumpled to the ground. I remember thinking I could stand up, but the weirdest tingling started down my leg around my knee. My coach carried me off the field like a baby. I pulled my helmet off and one tear slid down my cheek. They put me on a stretcher while the athletic trainer checked my knee.
“Yep, you fractured a bone. We should get you in to the ER for an X-ray”
“Fracture? Like my bone broke?”
“Yes that’s what a fracture is”
I started sobbing. Not from the pain. From the overwhelming feeling of becoming an invalid for an uncertain amount of time. I slid in the back of my mom’s vehicle as we drove down to the county ER. We got there, I was still in uniform. Just hysterical. I had no idea what was going on as I had never had an injury like this before. The ER lady took X-rays of my right leg. The images came back and showed a tibial plateau fracture. I wouldn’t be walking for a while. They helped cut me out of my softball pants and sent me home with lots of pain killers. The next few days I spent vomiting from the strong norco drug. I had a surgery a few days later where they placed hardware in my knee and put me in a straight-leg brace. I was miserable. It was hot and scratchy and I had my finals coming up. I went back to school the next Wednesday or Thursday to collect some class work to do at home. As I lived on the downstairs couch for close to three weeks I found myself asking again “Why did this happen?” I finished the school year by doing my final projects and giving my German foreign exchange student friend a final hug. I remember thinking “This is a nicer way to say goodbye to someone forever”.
I couldn’t walk for most of the summer and I started painful physical therapy. I was frequenting 3 times a week for a long while to build back my strength and relearn to walk. As soon as I was weight-bearing, I started working outside again. Doing what I could with one crutch. Dakota’s dad hired me to help manage the field workers and I could do some wood stacking decently enough. On the 1 year anniversary of Dakota’s death, I went to the gravesite for a small ceremony. It was the first time I had been there. The intersection where he died was my frequent mourning spot, almost daily on my drive to and from school. The gravestone was large and obviously very expensive. It has a beautiful picture of him and the quote “You got this”, that he used often as a self-reassuring phrase. At some point after the 1-year, I stopped wearing the bracelet he made me. Was it time to let go? How long does one mourn?
The rest of my high school journey was tainted with the memories of him and the phantom memories of where I imagined him being. At my graduation, we had an honorary memorial and scholarship dedicated to him and his character. Then I went to college. I was already dating who would become my husband a number of years later.
Years have passed. There is no happy ending. I'm still here. Aging. Growing older while I can still see the face of my 15 year old friend. He isn’t growing. He’s in the ground. Resting. It feels like a lifetime until I can see him again. I’ve had dreams of him. Unprompted visions of him were prevalent for about 2 years after he passed. You would think this story would get easier after the number of times I’ve played in my head over all of these years. But it hasn’t. I’m in the acceptance stage of grief. I’ve lived life, gotten married, laughed again, and see a bright future for myself. Though I do often think, Where would Dakota be now? Would we have become closer friends? Would he be married? He would have made a good father.
Again, I have no answers to these questions that I suppose may eternally sit with me. I do have some answers though. I’ve learned how to not take people for granted. I’ve learned how to recognize depressive symptoms and how to be a listening ear for someone who feels hopeless. I’ve learned how to find purpose in helping people. I’ve learned patience. Sometimes patience is agonizing, which means the reward is definitely worth the wait.

Hello I’m gonna try and make this quick. I am a sophomore in high school and am apart of our theater company. This weekend we had our only public performance of the play we are currently putting on. ( the rest were for competitions around the state) I do crew/ alternate so during the actual play I sit in the audience. Seeing as how we only to one public performance a lot of people showed. Seeing as I volunteered to work concessions I put my stuff in a chair to reserve it and went to work in the lobby. When I went back to the room to sit down a girl was in my spot. The classmate near the seat I was sitting passed by so I asked him about it. He said the girl was with a women in a wheel chair and she wanted to sit with her so he gave the seat away moving my stuff in the process. I was upset but didn't want to miss anything so I just sat on the floor. A bit of context I have arthritis and just recently started treatment. Making doing things like sitting on the floor difficult. Withing 20 minutes the pain became unbearable and I had to go to the lobby. I understand that the other women was disabled but not all disabilities or visible and now I have to miss the play o worked sooo hard for.
Edit the women isn't even in a wheel chair it's a Walker and she uses it to sit on everynow and then because and I quote "all this weight I put on gets heavy"

So this season has been wonderful in so many ways. Incredibly funny, amazing production design, insane quotes, you name it. And from every post I see in here it seems like everyone in the community is absolutely loving every bit of it, which is great! I don’t want this to come off as hate in any way.
But, this whole season I’ve just felt like the show is missing something, especially since we’re going into the finale. And i think what it’s missing is overall narrative punch/heart. With Freshman/Sophomore year, of course there were also the super fun and whacky moments, but so much of it was centered around these really phenomenal character moments: whether that be the Abernant sisters’ relationship, or Fabian and Bill, or Riz and both his parents, etc.
Where as this season I just feel like it’s really lacking in depth. Like sure we get snippets of it, like with Gorgug connecting with his rage, Fabian exploring loneliness, Kristen and Cassandra. But this season it just feels like all of that was pushed to the side for jokes and crazy moments. And now that we’re one episode away from it being over I really don’t feel like that much happened this season narratively that I’d want to return to.
Again, i really hope this doesn’t come off as being overly negative because I love Dropout and really appreciate/admire so much of what they do. But I just wanted to see if anyone else felt similar to me with this season, because as fun as it’s been i feel like there was just so much missed potential here.

I, a 16F sophomore, have a huge crush on this senior guy (18M). And while we're not best friends, I have spent a lot of time with him.
Going into more detail, we're both on the same tennis team in a small high school and I've known him for about 4 years, nearly 5. In the last 2 years I've had an on and off infatuation with him but during this tennis season it came back hard. We had lots of matches this year, including practice, so for a period of time I was seeing him everyday. Plus we're both the singles players so we have a connection there. Often times, if we're both done playing, we'll sit together and watch everyone else play. He always laughs at all my jokes (he even said that we're the same person in different fonts?? Is that a good thing??) and we have similar interests outside of tennis. Sometimes he'll start conversations with me on text, although we don't text that often. He's called my hair pretty, my nails and earrings cute, and compared me to Phoebe from Friends and Luna Lovegood. We make eye contact a lot, and it's usually never awkward while I'm around him honestly. When I laugh he'll start laughing, then tell me I have a contagious way of laughing. We sit next to each other often, whether that be at a restaurant with the rest of the team or on the bus. A few years ago he told me my voice was soothing. Hes posted me on his snapchat story and instagram (although he does that with quite a few people), and put me on his quote list many times. 2 weeks ago he asked me who I had a crush on and was really insistent on it, I never said who though; pretty sure he assumed it was someone in my grade. But what really fueled the fire for my attraction towards him is when he hugged me after I lost a match during playoffs this season, and after I lost at the state tournament. And for the last 2 weeks we've been calling all the time and playing minecraft together, usually with other people too but sometimes by ourselves. I'm definitely going into too much detail with this but you people need to know the full story. Also, I should add that he did have a crush on my friend 4 months ago who was 16, so he's fine with the age gap apparently.
Now, the things that make me doubt how he acts towards me is considering that he's, well, a senior. His college will be 2 hours away so even if he did reciprocate, that would be a challenge. Also, he's a very christain guy. And I am not. My parents make me go to church so he thinks I am Faithful. He's even going to college for church ministry and sings for his church's youth group so I would have to adapt to that, and honestly I like him so much that I'm willing to. Another thing, he says he doesn't have that many friends sometimes but he actually hangs out with a lot of people, most of them being girls. I used to think he was gay but he's dated a few of my senior girl friends, so I guess he's not. And he has a very intense personality. He can be nice, but I've seen him talk about a lot of people behind their back, even his best friend. He has a complicated history that he hasn't told me about, but it seems that he doesn't tell anyone about it outside of those who were there at the time. (Mysterious, I know). I spoke with others who dated him 2 years ago how the relationship went and they informed me that he has a victim complex and nothing is ever his fault in an argument. But they also told me he's changed since then, so I have no idea what to think. I don't even know if I'm even that important to him.
So, I need your feedback desperately. My friends are supportive and there's more I could add to this story but this description is already entirely too long and if you've read this far, I think you got the idea. So my question for you is, should I pursue it? Is he showing signs of attraction? I haven't had this strong of a crush on a guy in forever, so this feeling is new and makes me feel empty inside, and I truly cannot tell if he's just being friendly.

I am a senior in highschool, and it's only a matter of time before I leave. In my school, I have seen neurodivergent kids and other special needs kids being treated unfairly throughout my time in school.
Just last week, a student in my science class (the period before mine, he was a sophomore) was venting about my teacher, everything he said was true. She's a pretty mean teacher. His paraprofessional was there, and as he got his stuff and left, the para said to our class that and I quote:
"His behavior you just witnessed was due to his disability."
He was the most normal looking kid! That's a violation of HIPPA! She basically told the whole class he's disabled!
Another instance was a bomb threat six months ago, were a non verbal special needs kid was scared of the entire situation, and the special edition teacher said:
"Act like a normal 18 year old "
I'm tired of seeing students that can't advocate for themselves being treated like garbage because of there nuerodivergency/disability. I am a high functioning autistic, and I am lucky to have the support I need, but I need to help those who don't have a voice.
I'm going to talk to some higher ups at my school today. Wish me luck!

This is such a specific question, but I had no idea where else to go-
I’m writing a scene where my MC is coming to terms with their gender identity. In this scene, they’re talking, walking, holding hands and later swimming in a spring with the Greek/Roman deity Hermaphroditus—who’s referred to as Dyti (pronounced like the end of Aphrodite) as a nickname. MC sort of meditates while under the water, and they and Dyti end up sharing a kiss.
With this scene, I’m trying to avoid making it seem at all romantic, sexual or even platonic. I was inspired by a scene from Fantasy High: Sophomore Year, so I’ll just quote it directly: “It wasn’t sexual, it was spiritual.” That’s what I’m going for. I’m just so used to writing affection as either platonic or romantic. Any tips? Thanks <3

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Welcome back to this write-up about a complicated artist's complicated book.
Don't be absurd, of course you have time!
Part 1 Part 2
Now that we've established what the book is about, let's take a look at The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls' rich publication and re-publication history. I promise, it's more scandalous than it sounds.

“HER SPEECH IS NOTHING, YET THE UNSHAPÈD USE OF IT DOTH MOVE THE HEARERS TO COLLECTION” (HORATIO, ACT IV SCENE 5)

As I've mentioned in the last installment, TAFWVG has been released multiple times, in multiple editions – four of them, to be precise. And I wish I was exaggerating when I say that three of those four releases have been veritable masterclasses in testing your audience's loyalty. In case you're wondering: the secret is to alter your source material in strange and unpredictable ways, while also constantly messing up on the customer service front.
Most of this installment condenses and combines these two excellent write-ups, which contain most of the receipts: TAFWVG: A History / The Bloody Crumpets: An Inconsistent History. 🔍 Anything that isn't sourced with links is in there. While there were only minor differences between the first and second pressings, the third and fourth editions came with significant alterations to the structure of the book and the story itself, notably the cast of fictional Asylum inmates... a handful of which had, in fact, been obvious avatars of EA's IRL friends and collaborators.
It turns out there are good reasons why most fiction authors don't do real-life inserts so overtly – but in EA's case, it did make sense, and was warmly embraced by fans upon release. When the book first came out, some of these people had been familiar to the fanbase for years, frequently appearing in candid pictures on EA's blog and leaving comments on the forum; some were also involved in her music and show. Recognizing that one character's name was a pun on So-and-So's username was a nice Easter egg for veteran fans, and newcomers got to learn about fandom lore; it brought the story to life and the community closer.
One side character, for instance, was named after EA's best friend from Chicago, whom many fans had had direct interactions with: she co-ran EA's online stores during the Enchant years, and acted as admin, main moderator and EA-liaison of the forum throughout its near-decade of existence.
One crazy girl who thinks she's a pirate is 100% OC... but her description and illustrations 🪞 were explicitly modeled after pictures of Bloody Crumpet Vecona (one of EA's back-up performers), who became the first stand-in pirate character 📺 in the live show. Captain Vecona was also celebrated as the “Asylum Seamstress” 🪞🔍: most of the iconic early Opheliac costumes were her design. She had a following of her own, even prior to touring with EA, for her professional costuming work and her collaborations with German photographer Angst-im-Wald. (Shitty archive link, sorry - most of those badass photoshoots seem to have been lost to time. But if you were a European goth in the mid-2000s, search your old hard drives: I promise you, you've downloaded some of those pictures.)
Inmate “Veronica”, a cabaret girl diagnosed as a nymphomaniac, was a doppelgänger of her namesake, burlesque dancer Veronica Varlow 🪞 – the ride-or-die Crumpet, whom EA often lovingly called her “husband”, saying they had been lovers in a previous lifetime. Veronica was part of every single tour post-Opheliac release and developed a solid fanbase of her own, which she maintains to this day.
Even the brave and well-mannered talking rats (oh yeah, there's talking rats in the Asylum story) were named after EA's real-life pet rodents, who had featured in glamorous photoshoots. (Slight NSFW for sideboob.)
You get the general gimmick by now: EA turns her personal life into art, which she turns into a fictional world, which she then prompts the audience to inhabit with her. The whole Asylum concept was essentially an open invitation to self-insert parasocial fanfic: “Here's this very personal world that I've created, in which I, the artist, exist as a fictional persona, alongside all these quirky inmate characters that you've seen in my stage show, and who are avatars my real-life friends. Come on in, make it your home, and populate it with your own zany Victorian alter egos.”
And it worked, to an extent: like I've said, most fans were on board before they'd even read the book, and the Asylum became “real” in that sense.
But it can get a bit disorienting to find your place in a fantasy world, when said world keeps changing based on the author's shifting feelings about her story, her target audience, and her friends... plus, you'd love to read the book, but the darn thing still hasn't shipped.

ROUNDS 1 & 2: THE HARDCOVERS

\A MINOR ADJUSTMENT\
TAFWVG was first teased in spoken-word bonus tracks 🎤 on a 2007 EP. In spring 2008, EA started reading excerpts from her upcoming book at live shows. Early excerpts from the Asylum narrative featured a character named “Jo Hee” 📺; in the story, she is a cellist from “the Orient” (love that Victorian geography) and Emily's childhood confidante.
In real life, Lady Jo Hee, Center of Happiness, was the OG Bloody Crumpet. 📺 She had been there since from the very first Opheliac show in Chicago in 2006, accompanying EA on the electric cello – the only instrumentalist ever featured in the line-up besides EA herself.
In August 2008, Alternative Magazine ran a feature about the upcoming book.🔍, teasing some of its pages. Fans were quick to spot a very sisterly picture of EA and Jo Hee 🪞, borrowed from a fan-favorite photoshoot of the two. (An aside: this specific picture also became famous in the fandom for another reason. At some point, someone made an edit replacing Jo Hee with Amy Lee from Evanescence; for a while, it kept making the rounds in alt/goth internet circuits, casual onlookers kept getting excited about it, and Plague Rats kept having to step in and disappoint them.)
Anyway. For reasons undisclosed by either party, Jo Hee quietly left the Crumpets after that tour, never to be mentioned again.
By the time the book came out in late 2009, the character of “Jo Hee” had been renamed “Sachiko”. (I guess it didn't matter whether the one non-white character in the story was meant to be Korean or Japanese.) Jo Hee's face had been edited out of the (still clearly recognizable) photograph, and eerily replaced with Nondescript_Asian_Woman_023.jpg from Shutterstock.🪞
You'd think that the switcheroo would have raised more eyebrows, or at least some awkward chuckles, among fans of an artist whose better-known lyrics include “If I Photoshop you out of every picture, I could / Go quietly, quiet - but would that do any good?”. Yet to my knowledge, it did not. Possibly because, by the time people got around to reading the book, some fans had been waiting for their copy longer than Jo Hee had been a Crumpet.
A ROCKY RELEASE
Although the book seemed just about ready for publication at the time of those 2008 readings, the initial release was delayed by technical difficulties (some data had been lost during the editing process). And then delayed some more when, a year later, EA cancelled the US leg of a tour and slammed the door on Trisol, accusing the label owner of exploitation and embezzlement (he was allegedly selling fake tickets to her shows on a phony website). In August 2009, she signed over to The End Records, and we were back in business, baby!
Not only was The Book on its way to the presses, but the long-awaited release would coincide with a “Deluxe” re-issue of Opheliac, with new cover art and bonus tracks. For $100, you could pre-order the “Ultimate Book/Album Collection”, which included the revamped album, the book, a t-shirt, a tote bag, a recipe booklet and some bonus digital downloads, to be shipped in October. Or, for a more up-close-and-personal experience, you could purchase a VIP bundle for her upcoming shows in the fall: $50 plus ticket price would get you the book, a swag bag, and a meet-and-greet. (VIP tickets were capped at 20 slots per show; from what I gather, informal interactions with fans at the merch table were becoming overwhelming on previous tours. Again: fast-growing audience.)
Alas, due to printing issues this time, the making and shipping were soon pushed back to December. VIP ticket-holders were assured, at the start of the tour, that their copies would be shipped first as soon as the books were printed, with handwritten dedications from EA. Purchasers of the “Book/Album” bundle would receive theirs shortly thereafter. This seemed like a reasonable trade-off for a minor delay, and no one was too upset. (Well, some might have been, but at that juncture in Asylum history – for reasons that will become apparent in a later installment, when we get to EA's altercations with her fans – I guess they knew better than to get mouthy about it.)
The bundles came first... and in many cases, “bundle” was a generous term, because they arrived incomplete. When the t-shirt or tote bag weren't missing, they were printed the wrong colors. Many digital download codes had to be requested via email. The book itself was beautiful, but poorly bound, typo-ridden, and missing entire pages. (This was largely fixed in the second hardcover release.)
As far as I know, everyone who complained to the distributor got their money back – and I imagine it was a nice surprise when some items showed up, inexplicably, months after they had already been refunded. But it was still a bit of a “sad trombone” moment for many loyal fans, who had to request a refund on the Ultimate Super-Cool Preorder Exclusive Bundle to purchase the book and album separately.
As for the VIP package books, those didn't start shipping until late 2010 – a whole year after the official book release, months after less invested fans had already received their non-preordered copies. Worse: none of the books were signed, much less lovingly adorned with a personalized handwritten note as EA had promised. (And had tweeted about doing during the year-long shipping delay!) After enough fans meekly expressed their intense disappointment, EA's BFF-forum-admin mailed out signed bookplates that people could stick in their book in lieu of a personalized autograph. No real explanation was given. As far as I know, this particular let-down didn't cause a mass exodus of disappointed fans – but, in the midst of other goings-on, it certainly contributed to eroding many fans' trust in EA's word.
EA TAKES ON HOLLYWOOD
The 2011 release of the largely-identical second edition was better planned and overall uneventful, which gives me time to catch you up on contemporaneous events – like the reason EA ditched the Opheliac red and went platinum blonde. 🪞
Around that time, EA got herself a supporting role and a solo number 🎵📺 in The Devil's Carnival, Darren Lynn Bousman's psychocircus-themed movie musical. (If you're scrambling to place the name: depending on what kind of deviant you are, DLB is either the guy who directed half of the Saw movies or the guy who directed Repo! The Genetic Opera.)
If you've clicked the last link: see the bad boy greaser she's dancing with at the end of the song? That's the titular “Scorpion”, played by Marc Senter, and they were totally hitting on each other while shooting this. 📝🪞 They've been an item for twelve years now, in what appears to be a loving and mutually supportive relationship, and they seem besotted with each other. That's only marginally relevant to the story, but it's nice to know that at least one nice thing worked out in all this mess.
Back to 2011. Through her friendship with DLB and the Devil's Carnival cast (a motley crew of top-shelf B-listers 🔍 that included Bill Moseley, Paul Sorvino, the chick from Spy Kids, and the clown from Slipknot), EA also made a bunch of new industry connexions. That's how she came to decide that TAFWVG was meant to be more than a book, more than a live show: it had to become... a musical. Full company, full orchestra, big names, the works. Her 2012 album, Fight Like a Girl, was written and recorded with this project in mind, with most songs narrating events from the book and EA singing as various characters – which turns love duets into finger food for Dr. Freud. 🎵
Shortly before the album release, EA announced on Twitter that the Asylum Musical was scheduled to debut in the London West End, under the direction of Bousman, in 2014. "Casting calls to be announced soon!" (They were not.)

ROUND 3: THE AUDIOBOOK

2014 came, and brought... another TAFWG re-release announcement.
But wait – this time, it was going to be an audiobook! EA had been teasing one since before the original release, so people were quite excited. (It also sounded like a more achievable goal for the calendar year than a West End debut.) In early 2014, recording was well on its way, and the 6-CD boxset was due to ship in May.
PLEASE STAND BY, YOUR ASYLUM WILL BE PROCESSED SHORTLY
First, EA discovered “a new microphone ... that, upon testing, produced a recording of far greater beauty and expressive quality”, which naturally meant the whole thing had to be re-recorded. Two month's delay. No biggie. Our girl is a perfectionist.
But our girl also had to write, coordinate and rehearse her upcoming “Asylum Experience” – an afternoon-long interactive theater event, directed by Darren Lynn Bousman, which would be performed at five dates of the Vans Warped Tour in August. (It's not exactly the West End, but it's a start! 🔍) And then she had to prepare for the filming of the Devil's Carnival sequel in the fall. So, obviously, the July deadline was not met. When she finally gave an update in late 2014, the ETA was basically “we are ever so close, but the audiobook gets there when it gets there; feel free to ask for a refund if you're not along for the ride”.
And then she signed with a literary agent. TAFWVG was going to be made into a “real” book, that readers could purchase in stores for a normal price and request from their local library – big event! (More for EA, I think, than for her fans. By that point, the second edition could be purchased as a PDF, and I believe most people who pre-ordered the audiobook had already read the story.) But this involved tailoring the narrative to a more general audience, which meant portions of the book had to be re-written... which meant further delays.

...Besides, and let’s have a teacup of “honesty time” here, if the new Asylum becomes an internationally best-selling novel, not only can we enact more change for good, but the Asylum Musical takes over Broadway faster, the Asylum Movie takes over theatres faster, and YOU are all dressed up as rats/inmates in said movie, you guessed it, faster (“Asylum Audiobook Announcement from EA”📝)

Well, you know what they say in show business: if you can't make it in London, there's always New York.
As EA assured her fans, their patience would be rewarded with a brand new, professionally polished version of the story – and in due time, I guess, a role in the movie. (“Let's hope she doesn't find another new microphone!” 🐀)
From that point on, there seems to have been an ever-widening gap between EA's enthusiasm and fan expectations. When audiobook snippets 🎤.mp3) were released, many fans were unimpressed by the oddly flat, overproduced recording (turns out a microphone can be so good it's a problem! 🐀), which highlighted EA's stilted, uncanny diction and not-quite-transatlantic accent. That caught everyone off guard, because she didn't use to read like... that. Even die-hard apologists had to concede through gritted teeth that, tragically, it was giving William Shatner. (If you're curious, you can find more previews here 🎤📝, along with EA's captions.)
Fans weren't just getting irritated with the various delays and excuses: they were baffled, angry, and embarrassed. When EA clapped back “U know U can just get a refund, right? That is totally within your power to do” on social media, and it came out that requests for refunds had been getting ignored for weeks or months 🐀, seasoned fans were like “Yeah, that tracks.” The whole never-ending ordeal was just starting to feel silly.
All told, the audiobook took two years to complete, with little to no new music in the interim. Two years is a long time for a young-leaning audience! Fans who had preordered at the end of their sophomore year were graduating high school by the time it came out. Others who had been in the middle of undergrad were now looking for full-time jobs. People had gotten pregnant, given birth and potty trained, or had houses built from the ground up. Genuine ultra-fans of the book had had time to... presumably, read other books. (“I wonder how many people passed away waiting for this shitty audiobook to be finished?”)
When the audiobook came out, many long-time Plague Rats had defected, either lamenting the misguided decisions of their favorite artist, or just calling EA a money-grabbing fraud and a lying liar. And a number of patient and unbothered fans had, quite simply, grown out of their EA phase.
Your humble servant, for one, ordered the audiobook the week it went on sale, and stuck with that preorder through five address changes and two graduation ceremonies. Now, bear in mind: through all the ups and downs, even as the charm dispelled, my taste in music evolved, and my perception of EA herself changed, I never formally stopped considering myself a fan. (Mama didn't raise no quitter.) To this day, and to my profound embarrassment, I give enough of a shit that I'm taking the time to write this story at all, and that I was able to draft most of itfrom memory.(Mama didn't teach me how to prioritize.) Well, get this: I have never once listened to the audiobook. I remember unwrapping the signed boxset (minimal artwork, flimsy cardboard, no liner notes), thinking “this could have been an email”, telling myself I'd get around to it for old time's sake... and then I never did, because it was ten hours long, and I just couldn't force myself to care about that story anymore. I was not an isolated case.
In light of this, I apologize in advance for any potential errors in the following paragraphs; others listened so posers like me wouldn't have to 🔍, and I'm going off of their word. The new and improved edition was, indeed, a different book – in that a bunch of things that felt meaningful to fans had been either reworked or excised.
THE AUDIOBOOK EDITS
The hospital narrative had been shortened in favor of the asylum story, and the controversial “Drug / Suicide / Cutting” diaries had been scrapped. Part of the fanbase applauded this decision, but others were disappointed 🐀, as they had found the diaries to be the most (some said only) personal, authentic, and insightful chapters in the book.
Curse words, some abuse, and all mentions of abortion had also been purged. It made the book tamer, but not by much... because Emilie's age had been changed from 27 to 17. Apparently, the literary agent had suggested this to make the book more marketable to a Young Adult audience. No other biographical detail had been altered, so the main narrator was now a 17 year old girl with no parents but an established music career, who checks in by herself into a high-security adult ward, no questions asked. (I'm still perplexed by this one. Did they not expect YA readers to know how hospitals work...?)
The pirate captain, formally known by her “mass of tangled black hair”, was now... a blonde. According to EA, this was a purely aesthetic change: it made the three main Asylum girls a redhead, a blonde and a brunette, which would look better in the stage adaptation. Between the lines, it also distanced the character from its original dark-haired muse: Vecona, who had left the Crumpets in 2008 after a rumored falling-out with EA over unpaid costume work.
The minor characters based on EA's old Chicago friends had been discarded entirely. Which likely made sense for EA – she hadn't lived there in years, the friend group had drifted apart as friend groups do, and by that point, there no longer was an EA forum to administrate or comment on – but not so much for her readers. Some fans had grown fond of these fictional inmates (wasn't that the point?), and weren't too happy to see EA symbolically treat them as disposable. Others were saddened that EA would just scrap these remnants of her old life, and of what felt like simpler, happier times in the fandom. Either way, children, this is why you shouldn't get a neck tattoo of your first boyfriend's name, OR openly base the “good guys” in your career-defining book on friends you made in your early twenties.
To compensate for the loss of... most named inmate characters, Veronica was given a much more prominent role in the plot. Namely, instead of being best friends, Veronica and Emily were now... in love! Lovers! Lesbian lovers! Which naturally meant that Veronica had to die. 🔍 Besides, fans famously love it when you pull a gay ship out of thin air between your two main characters, and then kill one of them off so that the other suffers more.
One last one, because I find it especially goofy: a scrappy teddy bear named Suffer, given to Emily by the talking rats, was replaced with...a Very Large Spoon, which gets its very own number in the musical. 🎵 The rationale was that Emily could use the spoon as a weapon in the climactic uprising against the Asylum doctors. Which, fair enough... except that, prior to being a cute and anachronistic 🔍 MacGuffin in the fictional Asylum story, Suffer the Bear had been a beloved mascot🪞 from the early Opheliac live shows. Some still remembered when EA had raised HELL, even starting a #FREESUFFER campaign on Twitter, because she thought someone had stolen Suffer from the stage (it later turned out that he had been misplaced in a flight case). All that noise back in the day... and now Suffer didn't matter anymore? The nerve. “She made shirts and everything!” 🐀
All this to say, reception was lukewarm. EA hadn't performed live since 2014 and the Devil's Carnival sequel had failed to make a splash (despite decent reviews, the franchise and main collaboration fell apart before the end of the promotional tour 🔍). People were checking out. There was only one way to correct this. A true paradigm shift. A fresh start – a new theme?
Hell no. It's another edition of The Asylum for Revisionist Tortureporn Friendfictions!

ROUND 4: THE E-BOOK & THE QUEST FOR THE SPOON OF ROYALS

In 2017, about a year after the audiobook release, EA self-published a digital version of TAFWVG through Amazon. The literary agent hadn't worked out in the end: publishers were put off by how dark the book was, even after the audiobook edits. EA explained that she hadn't been comfortable with some of the alterations in the first place; she respected the agent's input and had tried to give it an honest shot, but in the end, she wanted to do it the way she wanted to do it, solo... and this was it.
EA had reverted a number of the audiobook cuts (including swear words, mentions of abortion, and the narrator's age), but kept most of the changes to the Asylum narrative – namely, the omission of Former Friends Characters, and the romance between Emily and Veronica. In the newsletter announcement, she mentions being in the process of “re-recording the few little bits of the audiobook to reflect the current text version”. Not sure where we're at on that front; it's never been brought up again, and I don't think anyone's checked. (I assume most fans had war flashbacks when they read the word “re-record”, and instantly repressed that part of the communiqué.)
The “Drug / Suicide / Cutting” diaries were still omitted in the first release of the e-book, but re-included as a coda soon after, by popular demand, under the title “Evidence of Insanity” – with fantastical “doctor's annotations” like“W14A seems to have disassociated her own identity, episodic, each lasting for a longer period of time. We suspect she will continue further in this – stronger medication is needed, schedule electroconvulsive therapy.”
A physical paperback edition was released a few months later; in anticipation of this, the e-book was a stripped-down, text-centric version of the story. (Honestly not a bad call, because the digital version from 2012 was a scanned, non-searchable, 1.3GB PDF behemoth – not super Kindle-friendly!) No elaborate backgrounds and color photographs in this edition, but the pages were still illustrated with inserts of rats, keys, teacups, and... hold on... ciphers??🪞
As always in the Asylum, history doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes. In a throwback to the prelapsarian days of the Enchant Puzzle (remember? the one that no one ever managed to solve?), the e-book illustrations contained puzzles, which formed the master-key to... a scavenger hunt! And in keeping with tradition, the grand prize was an extravagant adornment hand-crafted by EA: the “Spoon of Royals”.🪞📝 Oh my!
Some of the puzzles are simple anagrams that can be solved for keywords. A clickable word within the adjacent text takes you to a password-protected link, which takes you through to an audio file – a song or an atmospheric instrumental that goes with that moment of the story. There are also more complex ciphers that decode into riddles. Each key depicted in the book has a number or letter engraved on it. The total number of rats in the book is apparently significant. One link takes you through to a blank page whose source code contains a list of coordinates from various bridges around the world.
Oh, it was a whole thing. When the book came out, you could send a picture of you doing EA's signature “rat claw” hand sign🪞 to request admission to a private Facebook group (the “Striped Stocking Society”) where people could help each other solve the clues and EA would occasionally pop in for a chat. There was also a series of mysterious newsletters in early 2018, culminating in a Los Angeles event where EA showed up in person to pass on extra puzzle-solving material to a handful of lucky fans (although said material raised more questions that it answered 📝).
Overall, it was a great idea! Although the fanbase was generally smaller and less active after four years without a new tour or album (and a fair amount of other drama, which we have yet to get into), the e-book puzzle did pique people's interest in purchasing yet another version of the same story.
Unfortunately, once again, EA overestimated either how intuitive her fans were, or how invested they would remain. After months of collaborative efforts across multiple platforms, a number of puzzles had been cracked 🔍, but it was still unclear how the individual anagrams and numbers and riddle-solutions all fit together as scavenger hunt clues.
EA kept up the hype for a while, but the few hints that she gave on social media only revealed yet more encryption factors without really helping fans connect the dots. One cipher remained unsolved on Instagram for days and days before EA caved in and hinted at which key to use. She did helpfully specify that if you didn't know how to read music, you'd better start learning. (...Was this a fun puzzle, or a prep school admission test?) The in-person LA event had also sown some confusion as to the rules and constraints of the game: would winning involve traveling to a physical location? That didn't seem very fair. EA had mentioned physically burying some items – but could you solve the puzzle from a distance? Is the Spoon of Royals literally just buried under the Shakespeare Bridge in Los Angeles, California?? 🐀
I'm just saying: if this had come up in 2008? People in corsets and platform boots would have been out there digging.
But this was 2018. As we've mentioned, the core of EA's active fanbase (a lot of whom had been teens and young adults when she was touring Opheliac) was fast aging out of the years when most folks have the spare time, dedication, or desire to essentially do super-involved homework out of love for their favorite singer. Uncovering new songs was a fun perk the first year – but after the new album came out in 2018, none of the passwords led to exclusive material anymore. It felt a bit lacklustre for something so labor-intensive.
(The new music itself wasn't a rallying point either. Behind the Musical was, quite literally, an intended vocal guide for the Asylum musical – so, basically a collection of demos. The sound was VERY Broadway Revival, somewhat Phantomish 🎵, in a way that's either good or bad depending on who's saying it. The violins, to fans' chagrin, sounded all-MIDI; no sign of actual instrumental recordings. EA sang all the parts herself, as she had on her previous album. I'm not saying there's no merit in a one-woman Andrew Lloyd Weber tribute. Many old fans enjoyed the new material well enough, some even really liked it – but most agreed that it just didn't hit like her earlier stuff used to, and that it felt rather unfinished.)
Unlike with the Enchant Puzzle, the prize itself was not much of an intrinsic motivation. While the Faerie Queen's Wings were a straightforward concept that evoked EA's own signature stage costumes, the Spoon of Royals was... a large spoon attached to a necklace, community-college-art-teacher style. It looked impractical both as a spoon and as a necklace, and more importantly, I'm not sure how many readers felt a deep emotional connection to the spoon in the story. The spoon that had usurped Suffer the Bear, no less!
In short: people gave up on the game because it was too hard, it came too late, and they had other things to do.
Thus, the Spoon of Royals remains unclaimed to this day, and I doubt I'll see anyone crack the puzzle in this lifetime. The Striped Stocking Society FB group was terminated in 2020, around the same time a bunch of fansites folded and EA closed her Instagram comments for the first time. By that point, both EA and her fans had bigger rats to skewer – but we have a ways to go before we reach that part of the story.
I would encourage you to give the puzzle a shot for the hell of it (in case you're a cryptography nerd and currently under house arrest or in a full-body cast) but... I just tried a bunch of the links, and the passwords don't work anymore. So I guess that's that. To quote old Bill by way of conclusion: “Much ado about nothing”.

ROUND TOO-MANY: I'LL SEE YOU ON BROADWAY OR I'LL SEE YOU IN HELL

So, what now? Well, not much.
By the late 2010s, what kept many fans semi-invested – if nothing else, because it clearly meant so much to EA herself – was the prospect of an upcoming stage musical adaptation. The way EA talked about it 📺, it was very much a “when”, not an “if”. Sure, ten years on, we were still collectively stuck in the Asylum, but it would at least be a new format – and a return to EA's main field of expertise, ie songwriting and performing. Not only did the core fanbase long for new music and new shows, but Fight Like a Girl and Behind the Musical had brought in small influxes of new fans who were very eager for any chance to see her live. So whether it was out of genuine enthusiasm for the project, or out of “let EA have her musical so we can maybe finally move on”, the fanbase was overall supportive.
Even though people still joked about the 2012 announcement of a “2014 West End debut” (seriously, what was she thinking?), EA had really buckled down in the intervening years, and it looked like the project was plausibly well underway. As in, we had more than just EA's word to go on: the involvement of other people, who did not reside in the Asylum, seemed to confirm that the musical was a thing.

[CONTINUED IN COMMENTS because Reddit is being ridiculous about the character count. I swear I was under 40,000!]

I am a sophomore in college going into junior year. I live in a suite with two other good friends. We all decided to suite together in a mandatory 24H sensory retreat building. I registered for a room by myself and the other two are rooming in the other room in the suite.
I get an email saying “roommate” will be my roommate and they want to meet up. I agreed, the roommate responded with a block schedule 2.5 weeks in advance from then with the quote “pick a time”. I saw the name attached to the email and recognized that this person currently has serious allegations against them and is well known all over campus. I wanted to be fair so I made a time. I wound up running 15 minutes late, texted the guy I would be running a few minutes late and asked if we could still meet up. Got a response saying “Nah. What are you doing next Wednesday”. Said nothing I’m free and was left on read. Before Wednesday I met with his current roommate and he described him to me. Said the guy scares him, he feels uncomfortable around him, they are not on speaking terms. Which didn’t make me feel anymore hopeful.
Wednesday came and went. I texted the guy the next day asking to meet up one more time and didn’t get a response until hours later. Was told to walk off campus and meet with him and his band members at his gig and that I would have to wait 45 minutes to be allowed in. I said I didn’t think it was a good idea and didn’t like for that to be expected of me. I texted that I was apprehensive to go to a place I’ve never been to meet someone I’ve never met off campus. He told me to reschedule next week and that he can’t do anything about it. I responded I was apprehensive about living together now. He sent a long message saying here’s what you have to know about me. To keep it brief he’s in emt training currently and has a pager that goes off frequently, he wakes up at 5am and goes to bed at 10pm. He does yoga at 530am for two hours in the room with the windows open for the breeze and the sunshine. He loves the cold and can’t do any heat prefacing he hates any heat. I responded to him that I have a weakened immune system and can’t have the window open when I sleep, I wake benefit, I’m a neuroscience majors. My college only has 7 and 8pm classes for neuroscience so I’m awake at night till 3am and sleep in the day due to this schedule. I said that I had bad roommates previously and that here it takes 4+ months to move someone as I’ve personally experienced it and I don’t want the same fate for us. He responded to me that if I want him out, I need to find him a room. He didn’t acknowledge any of my previous texts. I said I can’t “find him a a room” as that’s an RA job. He then responded “we will see” to my original message telling him about my situation. I sent him rooms listed in the same building on the floor above us as empty. I’ve been left on read for over a week. AITA?

What have you gone overboard on?
When someone learns a new technique, gets a new piece of hardware, or loads up a new piece of software, there can be the tendency for that person to "overdo it".
Some examples:

• You get your first prime lens, upgraded from an f2.8 zoom or even a kit lens that only flirts with f3.5 before settling into f5.6... and you shoot everything absolutely wide open. And if you end up with an f1.2, you'll never see a background again.
  
• You get your first roll of 800T and suddenly you're Grainy Days going from gas station to gas station jonesing for those sweet, sweet red halation's.
  
• Cranking the absolute shit out of the grain knob. To quote Felix from FUTC: "well I paid for the whole grain slider so of course I'm going to use the whole thing."
  

It can certainly look sophomoric, amateur, and even a bit cringe.
But I'm a big proponent of it. I think it's a good part of the process, so I say go for it.
Explore that space. I've got a fever, and the only cure is a wider aperture.
Learn it in and out and then eventually the novelty will wear off and you'll dial it back. You might even be sick of it. But at that point you'll know that particular aspect in-and-out. Then it can be become a more nuanced part of your repertoire.
Embrace the "going overboard" mindset.
What are some things you went overboard on?
I actually did go overboard on the f1.2 lens I had. I shot almost everything wide open. I had a whole era where the background of any subject indecipherable. And I was doing it with street photography.

I have a friend (25F) who keeps making comments and keeps calling me a hoe or a whore. I have a pet dog and my dog submits and shows her stomach, my friend says "oh you're such a whore like your mom OP!" and honestly that hurts for context I lost my virginity with a guy at 21, I was afraid of having sex because I had experiences with sexual assault growing up, it's been an issue with my mental health and body image. I was with the guy for 8 months and unfortunately I was used, he didn't want to be serious with me. I found out he was hiding me from his friends, he was embarrassed to be with me in public (I was over weight). (Never complained while "getting busy") I was 220lbs and then he got with a 280lbs Korean chick (hypocrisy at its finest), I lost a the weight and now at 180lbs I'm starting to wear more feminine clothing I was insecure to use.
Because of that guy, I haven't dated since. I keep feeling disgusted with myself and it makes me feel bad, I just keep clapping back saying "well I slept with one guy, that doesn't make me a whore." She had slept with at least maybe 3-4 guys from freshman to sophomore year and just bragged about it and complained as well. She now has a new boyfriend, (a relationship I supported since day one and hype up!) but he is a virgin Christian guy and she is not. Ever since the relationship began, she's been calling me and my dog a whore. Could this be an insecurity? Should I call her out? Should I clap back twice as hard?
Update: haven’t spoken to her about it yet I’m honestly scared I don’t have many friends, she and I got way back, and it’s hard to make some for context I am neurodivergent and have other mental health issues, but something new came along of memory for the last 2 weeks she doesn’t like it when attractive men talk to me in public. From a simple “hello” or “hey” or a charming smile and compliment. She tells me not to speak to them because why bother because there’s no point. I asked her “why what’s wrong? I never get noticed.” (She makes a (-_-) face) and it’s true I have some other friends who are very attractive and get a lot of attention and compliments from men. But now it’s like wow! Is this what it feels like to be noticed?
I’m confused about this she has a boyfriend, she has something I wished I could have, honestly it’s hard to date when still getting comfortable with physical touch/intimacy, and being neurodivergent I don’t get it I have a hard time understanding emotions, is she protective of me or controlling because of jealousy?
She supported me and gave me courage to talk to a guy but he was 22 I’m not a big fan of anyone younger than me so I just walked away from him it was awkward…
Update2.0: Not only an apology was made, the truth came out! It was in fact insecurities that took place when making those “jokes”. To hear about her explaining her insecurities and why she was basically making those remarks towards me. There was no fighting, but I felt actually sad. Majority was body insecurities. It was unsettling to hear, what makes it worse is what was listed were certain body part sizes are in her boyfriend’s liking, which made her feel worse. She was shaming me because, I had the features that she “lacks of” she quoted. I felt bad about that but it’s out of my control on what I have, she is thinner and in great shape with zero to no effort always had no weight issues or ED and I’m working to get to my BMI goal. Then again I never shamed her nor resented her for being thin. However, I understand wishing and wanting things so our lives can become bette easier. Despite seeing her hurt, I’m quite happy that she opened up to me and gave the clarification I needed.
More importantly I’m glad for all the help that was given, thank you all for giving me the courage to help me step up for myself I appreciate you all with so much love.

At the top universities in the world like MIT, Harvard, Stanford, and other Ivy League schools and top 200 US universities, students are afforded the luxury of gaining basic knowledge in multiple subjects and taking free electives. In the first year, students have the chance to study multiple disciplines and are not required to declare their major before the end of their first or sophomore year. For example, if one begins with CS but later realizes a passion for Econ or ACF which they have not studied before, isn't that amazing? Rather than being stuck with a major that one may not enjoy for the entirety of their degree, without ever getting the chance to study multiple disciplines, students can take advantage of this opportunity. This luxury is a feature that many students love and is inspired by other top US universities. It is what makes LUMS unique and distinct from other Pakistani universities.
and furthermore, you can very easily which major after meeting certain criteria, switching in the same school is easy, switching to a different school is a little bit harder like if you want to switch into SDSB you need to follow a certain criterion that i"ll quote from the LUMS website. What is the process for transferring into SDSB from another school? a CGPA greater than or equal to 3.5 at the end of First/Sophomore year(s) are eligible for a direct transfer to SDSB Undergraduate Programmes (ACF/MGS), based on their given major preference.
( you can visit their website or ask them directly for detailed guidance)
secondly, switching to SSE is relatively harder since you need to take courses in algebra and calculus ( which can be particularly challenging for students without a background in mathematics or STEM fields) and maintain a certain high GPA to meet the requirements for switching.
Thirdly, I highly recommend not solely relying on uninformed comments when it comes to making decisions about your future as a potential student. The lack of knowledge in some comments can significantly impact your choices. Instead, utilize authentic mediums like their official website for accurate guidance. Additionally, feel free to directly reach out to them; they are excellent at responding to queries. It's crucial to avoid being swayed by stereotypical or misguided remarks from individuals who may not have all the facts. Trusting reliable sources will ensure you make informed decisions for your own benefit
And lastly, I think that having the option to switch majors is a luxury. If a student couldn't qualify for a certain major initially, they could work towards a minimum GPA and then switch to that major. Similarly, if someone who was initially interested in a particular major realizes later on that it's not for them, they could switch to something they are truly passionate about.
I hope you all make it to the LUMS IA.

This is my first time doing this and I feel like I need advice on this situation.
I(17F) have been bumping heads with my mom (36F) since I started speaking up.
My mom has outdated parenting methods from her own upbringing, where expressing feelings or opinions was considered disrespectful and led to punishment. My mom vowed not to treat her child the same way, but ended up resorting to similar disciplinary actions like hitting, yelling, or blaming me for minor issues. I’ve always felt mistreated and blamed for things that wasn’t my fault.
In middle school, despite good grades and awards,I still got in trouble often, leading to phone confiscation for various reasons. With the onset of online learning during freshman year due to COVID, motivation dropped, and my mother became more physical and critical, even laughing when I cried. I had Toxic relationships in sophomore year and were noted by my mother, who encouraged contact with them. Junior year improvements were met with disappointment from my mother, who expected straight A's and compared me to other successful students, questioning why they couldn't be more like them. My mother's focus on academic success and constant comparison to others has created a stressful environment for me.
As a high school senior with good grades and college acceptance, I face constant criticism from my mother for not doing better. Added to this, I have to care for my grandpa and clean up after everyone at home, including messy kitchen habits. I'm not allowed to use the dishwasher and speaking up against the unfair expectations leads to being ignored or mocked by my family. The situation is frustrating and overwhelming as I strive to balance academic success and household responsibilities.
It gets worse when I have a boyfriend (17M) hes the best boyfriend I could ask for and hes not toxic hes respectful and understands how I feel and also thinks it’s unfair how my mom is towards me. Im in a relationship with a Mexican boyfriend that their mother disapproves of. My mother questions why am I not with a Black boy or my toxic exes instead. My family mocks and makes fun of me for our relationship, leading to arguments and leaves me feeling tired of defending myself. When the me and my boyfriend get into trouble I wont go into details, my mother goes to his house and blames him in front of his mother for my social and academic struggles, despite these accusations being untrue. My relationship with their boyfriend's family is strained due to the mother's behavior. Additionally, my mother scheduled a Black boy to go to prom with me saying im not “pro black” and I need a black boy in my life, further causing tension in our relationship also hurting my bf because I had bot choice and was forced too. I stoped talking to my mother as a result of the conflict. Shes been threatening me to isolating me how she use too throughout my childhood and says Im not allowed to leave the house at 18 because she will quote lock me in the basement like the documentary “Ripped From the Headlines” and told me not to get any ideas on planning to leave the house.
Any advice?

Amanda Rice is an opposite who plays from the NC State Wolfpack and has become their most dangerous player. She's got a cannon of an arm and has only been playing since her sophomore year of high school, so it's fun to dream on what she could be if she's able to smooth out the inconsistencies in her performance. Here's my draft profile on her, and as always, it's jam-packed with quotes from her and her coach.
On deck, I have interviews with Boise State opposite Paige Bartsch, Brown middle Beau Vanderlaan, and Stanford middle Sami Francis all in the can. Can't wait to share them :)
If you like this kind of content, dont forget to subscribe to my Substack! Thanks!
https://open.substack.com/pub/therisereport/p/draft-prospect-profile-opp-amanda?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android&r=3igknq

My son (22) has been provided a car that belongs to my wife and I.
My son’s best friend (22) backed into the drivers side rear door and left a noticeable dent.
We have the ‘collision’ on our doorbell camera and my son’s best friend admitted to it.
My mistake at this point is not getting my sons best friends insurance info or calling the local PD for an official exchange of information.
My son’s best friend’s mom gets involved and initially says “ ‘get a quote’ we will pay out of pocket to repair it and keep it off our insurance…”
My thought was COOL
Got a quote $1200 for perfection and $750 for ‘ passable for a cash job… I am more than okay with a passable cash job so I forwarded the information to the mom and set a tentative appointment with the shop.
She replies with ‘ okay sounds good. Hope they can do it for the lower number’ and I reply and I fine with the cheaper job not looking to perfection.
Then the mom drops a bomb on me…
‘We need to discuss the matter of your son barrowing money from my son. I have access to his bank records and my son has transferred approximately $1,400 to your son as a loan and this will need to be paid before we pay anything for a repair’
My wife and I were blindsided by this as we had no freaking clue this was going on and we replied if our son owes it. Which we are not disputing, then our son should pay however this is completely separate and autonomous of the car issue.
Her son hit a car that belongs to my wife and I .. this, in my mind, is completely separate of any side deal my adult son made with her adult son. Our property was damaged and we have nothing to do with an undocumented loan.
The mom fires back with well the amount is closer to $4,200 after additional research and speaking further with my son.
I don’t dispute the amount although I am leery of it jumping from $1,400 to $4,200 , however I am not liable for whatever the amount is. I didn’t make that loan. My property, the car, is damaged.
The mom has gone radio silent. I think that was her entire point to get her and her son out from under the liability for the damage.
The car that my wife and I own and provide for my son is visibly damaged. I do not feel that I should have to make an insurance claim.
I did her son a solid for not calling the police to be civil and to keep the temperature down. Where we live, he would have gotten a citation (approx $200) points on his license and we would have had his insurance info. Now we have nothing
My wife is upset and has made the decision that the best friend is no longer allowed in our home and I fully support that.
This friend has been problematic over the years going back to when they were sophomores but we held our breath and let things slide. But this is a step too far. They are both 22 year old young men and the best friend should simply just either pay for the repair or provide me his insurance info so we can file a claim for the damages.
AITBA for insisting an ambiguous amount owes is separate from damage done to the car and AITBA for supporting the decision to ban the best friend from our home.