In a relationship with a 32M and i am 36F

1. After a bike ride I was having stomach ache (i had a slight one before we started the ride and yes i should have mentioned, that was my mistake) but he could not even comfort me. We came home, he said take meds and that's it. He got busy on his phone. And I just thought wait when he is sick or having a basic headache I go all about taking care of him from soothing words, hugs, food etc and this is bare minimum that I expected. when confronted he said so what do I do? I can take u to a hospital. I felt deeply sad.

Was i wrong? Was i expecting too much?

1. He is emotionally a big zero. He says he is a winner in life ( he is doing good for a 32 y old) but he can't do all this emotional shit. This emotional thing is important to me. He says go and date garbage men who have no assets, no goals and lot of emotions. My self confidence and self esteem is down and when i am sad and my mood is off , he asks why are u so depressed, i am like wow who talks like this to their SO
   
2. During the whole break up fight he started saying things like- how will you tell your mom (she also likes me), how will you tell your frnds about the break up, how I dated all wrong ones in the past and now I have him so I should be glad and not mess it up.
   
3. I told him I can't be with a man who is unkind, disrespectful and has zero empathy. To which he said you won't get a better guy than me now (hinting I am 36 and won't get a good guy he is 32) I said even u won't get a better girl than me to which he said ya of u to say so. How cocky can one be?
   
4. i feel taken for granted, unloved and dismissed as he thinks he is some superior man who has a upper hand and i won some jackpot by having him in my life.
   
5. He said don't irritate me or i will smash your face. Is this how love and caring looks?
   
6. Yes, he does plan dates, rides, drives, helps me in my house but does it mean i overlook other things?
   

In a year old relationship with 32M and i am 35F
Sharing few incidents that happened yesterday
,1. After a bike ride I was having stomach ache (i had a slight one before we started the ride and yes i should have mentioned, that was my mistake) but he could not even comfort me. We came home, he said take meds and that's it. He got busy on his phone. And I just thought wait when he is sick or having a basic headache I go all about taking care of him from soothing words, hugs, food etc and this is bare minimum that I expected. when confronted he said so what do I do? I can take u to a hospital. I felt deeply sad.
Was i wrong? Was i expecting too much?

1. He is emotionally a big zero. He says he is a winner in life ( he is doing good for a 32 y old) but he can't do all this emotional shit. This emotional thing is important to me. He says go and date garbage men who have no assets, no goals and lot of emotions. My self confidence and self esteem is down and when i am sad and my mood is off , he asks why are u so depressed, i am like wow who talks like this to their SO
   
2. During the whole break up fight he started saying things like- how will you tell your mom (she also likes me), how will you tell your frnds about the break up, how I dated all wrong ones in the past and now I have him so I should be glad and not mess it up.
   
3. I told him I can't be with a man who is unkind, disrespectful and has zero empathy. To which he said you won't get a better guy than me now (hinting I am 36 and won't get a good guy he is 32) I said even u won't get a better girl than me to which he said ya of u to say so. How cocky can one be?
   
4. i feel taken for granted, unloved and dismissed as he thinks he is some superior man who has a upper hand and i won some jackpot by having him in my life.
   
5. He said don't irritate me or i will smash your face. Is this how love and caring looks?
   
6. Yes, he does plan dates, rides, drives, helps me in my house but does it mean i overlook other things?
   

1. After a bike ride I was having stomach ache, he could not even comfort me. We came home, he said take meds and that's it. He got busy in his phone. And I just thought wait when he is sick or having a basic headache I go all about taking care of him from soothig words, hugs, food etc and this is bare minimum that I expected. when confronted he said so what do I do? I can take u to a hospital. I felt deeply sad. Was i wrong? Was i expecting too much?
   
2. He is emotionally a big zero. He says he is a winner in life ( he is doing good for a 32 y old) but he can't do all this emotional shit. This emotional thing is important to me.
   
3. During the whole break up fight he started saying things like- how will you tell your mom (she also likes me), how will you tell your frnds about the break up, how I dated all wrong ones in the past and now I have him so I should be glad and not mess it up.
   
4. I told him I can't be with a man who is unkind, disrespectful and has zero empathy. To which he said you won't get a better guy than me now (hinting I am 36 and won't get a good guy he is 32) I said even u won't get a better girl than me to which he said ya of u to say so. How cocky can one be?
   

A few months ago I was regularly attending a medical massage place, my normal masseuse was out so I saw a temporary replacement. Without asking, she gave me a "chiropractic adjustment" and I've had consistent back cracking ever since in that area.
When laying flat on my stomach, she quickly pressed three times on my upper spine (between my shoulder blades). Now that spot aches, and it cracks/pops multiple times per hour. Specifically if I ever flex my diaphragm.
I've seen multiple doctors about it (ortho surgeons and one PT) and all say that some back cracking/popping is normal, a long with mild pain. I've explained that this is a new issue that directly coinsides with a specific incident, but I've been dismissed consistently.
I also recently had a microdiscectomy at L5/S1. My surgeon keeps telling me that air in the spine is normal and the cracking will get less over time. I keep insisting that the problem arose before surgery when I was trying to control the pain with massages, injections, pills, etc and it goes nowhere. I've asked multiple doctors for an MRI but no dice.
Does anyone have any ideas? Or anything I can say to docs to try and receive some sort of care? This is starting to drive me insane.
I'm in the US, if it matters.

My grandparents (especially my grandmother) are so mentally challenged (including my mother) to the point where I don’t and can’t establish a connection how it is i even come from these people. For example today an argument happened between my grandmother and I. I have been dealing with a chronic medical condition called tmjd and I’m miserable every single day of my life. Today moments ago we tried to have a conversation about it that ended in disgrace as it normally does because my grandmother has such a significant lack of comprehension it’s almost unrealistic. We try to talk and it starts out by her asking me if I’m ok. I go on in an aggressive way to tell her no. I can’t even bare the idea of talking to her anymore because she disgusts me to the point of disbelief which is the reason I aggressively tell her no. Mainly because our conversation end up no where and what she says makes no sense at all sometimes. At this point after 6 whole years of dealing with this condition and wanting to die because of it she still has the audacity to say why. I don’t even know if it’s audacity at this point or if it’s just such complete ignorance. How after 6 full years of conversation after conversation, doctors after doctors. Getting injection therapies and so forth can she be so belligerent to keep asking me why. Same thing with my mother . My grandmother is 75 now but she has been like this her whole entire life. So it’s nothing new what so ever. I got this condition when I was 22 and haven’t been the same since. I used to be a regular gym goer. I was into powerlifting and believe me I was a strongman not just your average powerlifter. I had super human strength. Could have made worlds strongest man competition easily. I was healthy as an ox. I just don’t understand at this point how they can’t tell a difference. I mean my physical appearance is even dramatically different. So back to that. So I began by asking her how she can’t tell a difference in my physical appearance and condition. She says you look like you lost weight. I’m thinking ok but I’ve obviously lost muscle I have bags under my eyes I sit in the house all day and don’t move from my bed and all you have to say is I lost weight? Then I say I used to bench press so and so weight. I say what’s that mean to you that I can’t do that anymore. She says “it means you look good” …….WTF? I’m thinking to myself like this lady has absolutely lost her fucking mind what does that even mean. How does that mean that and how does she even think that it means that. It sounded like gibberish just came out her mouth. I feel like I’m talking to a bunch of two year olds all the time. Over the course of my entire life she has always said nonsense similar to this but in other ways with other conversations. My mother as well. I just feel completely lost at this point they have made me absolutely hate them. I hate them so much that if I wasn’t in this state of condition I’d pack my things up and leave and never look back and change my contact information and all. They are all so mentally challenged that I have no idea how they made it in life. It’s absolutely astounding. My grandmother has never had a job in her life. My grandfather owns a bar and my mother runs it. But for Christ sake I just don’t know what to do anymore I’m in misery every single day of my life and I want to die. My family does not by any means make my life any easier and they help me in no way other than giving me a place to live. They don’t even know where to begin to help me even if they wanted to. I just feel like every time I talk to any of them our conversation feel child like. It’s like I’m the adult and they are the children. I just want to hold and intellectual conversation with my family but I know they are not capable of it and it’s saddening. But mainly frustrating to the point where I want to hit them. It’s not even about trying to have an intelligent conversation (because they aren’t capable) but it’s about even having a regular one which is difficult to them. It always ends up in an argument where they are saying things from emotion and not actually logical in anyway and so then it’s turns into this victim mentality situation and it’s just an absolute fucking mess. Or someone says something that’s utterly gibberish. It’s pointless to talk to them anymore and I have nobody I can speak with about it. It’s so awkward just being around these guys and not talking to them through the entire day. There’s times where my grandmother will constantly insist on talking to me me but I straight up totally ignore her. And she won’t understand that that’s what I’m doing and she’ll hold an entire conversation basically by her self but she’ll imagine she’s talking with me. I mean it’s absolutely crazy what I go through with these guys. If I want to ignore my mother she’ll turn hostile. But if I know it’s one of those days for her that’s she’s going to say some dumb ass shit I have two choices which is engage in conversation with her whether I like it or not and it still turns into an argument or ignore her which will turn into an argument. It’s a lose situation with her all the time. She’s also an alcoholic and won’t admit it. I just wish I had some help in my life but there isn’t any. I have hundreds of videos of these guys acting belligerent and senile. I just know if I ever get better I’ll always have these to reflect on and remember as to why I went my separate way and decided to never talk to any of them again. Any suggestions other than move out. Talk to a therapist or go for a walk. I also have about 8 disc herniations from a car accident. So makes it even more difficult to get out. I don’t have a job because I’m so disabled from having a constant head and the car accident. I just don’t know anymore. Trust me if I had the option to move out I would have a long time ago. I hate them so much. I mean I genuinely from the bottom of my soul hate them. Very badly hate them. I wake up in disgust. I look at them with disgust. Everything disgust me about them. And they don’t get that. They don’t even act accordingly to other emotions to towards them. If I knew someone hated me as much as I hate them I’d never try to establish a connection with them just based off of that. But they act as if they never get into an argument with each other one moment and then the other are screaming their heads off at each other. My mother does 90% of the screaming. She’s screams like a maniac. I understand everyone has yelled before in their life but when it comes to my mom she’s screaming on a regular basis. It’s made me absolutely despise her. I won’t miss a single one of them when they die. They have no respect for me or understanding that I’m going through what I’m going through. I can’t express how much I hate them. My stomach feels uneasy when I look at any of them let alone want to talk to them. My mother nonchalantly goes on with her life right after an argument and then will talk to you moments later as if it didn’t even happen. My grandmother does the same. I just want to feel better so I can move on in my life. I forget to mention my dad has never been in the picture. But from my understanding after talking to him a few times I understand exactly why he’s not apart of my life. I mean we talk over the phone. But I understand why the relationship between him and my mother never lasted. Just by what he tells me about my mom, I can relate the same experiences. Makes total sense and I swear to God, I do not blame the man.

Previous chapter
A soft chuckle filled the cave, carrying with it so much weight that not a single echo chased after it. It was as if, instead of making a sound, her laugh transmitted directly into his head and filled his body.
“It is alright child,” She petted his head. “Unlike the immortals from the stories you may have heard, I do not care for customs and formalities such as these. Raise your head.”
The way that she spoke reminded Mareus of Elder Guo in the almost ancient way that he would form his sentences while speaking in commands. Though it didn’t feel as if she was being overbearing.
Mareus struggled to his knees while looking everywhere except for her face. His eyes darted around her outline, looking into the darkness behind her, at the way her hair moved in the still air. Doing everything they could to avoid recognizing the disdain present in her gaze. Instead, when he finally met her eyes, he only saw softness accompanied by lines only formed with a gentle smile. Similar to the face a mother would make when consoling a crying child.
“Tell me your name, child.”
“M-my name… my name is Maris. I-I don't have a family name, but I was raised by a grandmother with the name Hua.” Starting to feel more comfortable, he asked. “May I know the name of the person who saved me?”
“Hmm, Mare-us.” She mulled over his name for a moment, as if she were determining what characters it used and their meaning. “Yes, it's a good name. The person who picked it chose wisely.”
He wasn't quite sure what to say. He never actually asked where his name came from. So he wasn't sure if it was his parents who chose, or his grandmother. He did ask her what it meant when he was younger, she could never give him a full answer though. Instead, she told him how the first character meant ‘endless’. “Like the boundless and infinite sea,” she would explain.
Having never seen the sea Mareus wasn't sure exactly how true that was, but he did ask a villager who had traveled outside the valley once, and they compared it to the sky. Because of that, he would often stare at the blue sky during the day, tracing the heaven’s scar as it ran into the horizon.
The woman continued to run her fingers through his hair like she would with a beloved pet. “I do have no family name. As such, I have many names over my life. The one I am currently fond of is Fu Kong.”
As if she had gotten what she came for, she gracefully rose to her feet and retreated back to the edge of the darkness. The shadows that fled when she revealed herself now returning, bathing the cave in total darkness.
“Do make sure to eat your meals, I will return with a change clothes for you. Unless, that is, you prefer those rags clinging to your bandages?”
Mareus lowered him so back into kowtow. “Mistress Fu Kong, you bless me with your kindness.”
His words were met with silence, and after a few heartbeats he raised his head to find only darkness awaiting him.
After breaking free from the awe, he finally examined his body for the first time. He had become noticeably thinner from skipping so many meals while his body was healing. It wasn't quite at the level that could be considered unhealthy, but he was already smaller than most children his age, and now he even skinnier.
His thick black hair was crusted and knotted, with some of it knitted into his robes. It's oil seeping into what was left of his clothes and his bandages. That wasn't the worst of it, though. The thing that shocked him the most was the stench.
While retching, he thought. How did I noticed this before?
Mareus reeked with the pungent odor of rot and filth. He was reminded of after the wedding and the parts of the Shou that were left in the field to decompose before being turned into fertilizer.
Breaking free from his regrettable fantasy, he felt a kind of enlightenment that was quickly replaced with embarrassment. I can't believe I was in front of someone like her while like this. He agonized and rolled in his makeshift bed while covering his face.
He frantically looked around for anything to help him hide the stench and, hopefully, his shame. When he noticed a few things that weren't there before. The darkness of the cave faded again, as if the shadows were imitating the clouds on an overcast day.
Without the distraction of a heavenly fairy or his eyes blurred from his tears, he could finally clearly make out his surroundings. And it was no wonder he could find the exit before, instead of a wide area, naturally carved out inside a cave. The room was more like a misshapen bowl with a high ledge that led to several more dark passages.
In the bowl, the closest wall had a small table and stool with a used candle and some parchment. The adjacent one revealed a pile of furs he couldn’t recognize. On the far end of the cave were some plants he'd never seen before. As Mareus got closer he noticed: a small bucket of water, a piece of pumice soap, and a cloth.
He absentmindedly spoke. “I guess she really thought of everything.”
Mareus realized that either the stool was far heavier than it looked, or he had gotten that much weaker as he struggled to drag it between two bigger plants. He tore off his tattered clothes and sat down before fighting with his bandages.
“I'm glad you're taking the initiative to explore on your own.”
He connected the sudden voice into a lot of his feet while trying to cover anything he could. Although the remains of his robe didn't cover much more than the wraps already were.
Unbothered, Fu Kong continued. “I worried that you'd fall back into your depression after I'd left. But seeing you up and about is a testament to the strength of your soul.”
He slowly climbed back onto his seat as the strange woman spoke. Making sure to have most of his body turned away from her. When she suddenly stopped speaking, he looked back to see if he had disappeared again. Instead, she was gracefully sitting on a inky black ledge he didn't notice before.
“Mistress, I don't want to seem disrespectful, but do you need something from me?”
Her face didn't change as she thought for a moment. “There's no rush, I can wait until you're ready.”
Accepting that she had no intention of giving him any privacy, he started scrubbing the areas that weren't covered by his bandages. He quickly noticed that when he accidentally scrubbed over the edges of the bandage, it drank the soapy water. What was even more surprising was that the characters wriggled like they were alive before the bandages secreted some sort of brown substance.
The stink was even more horrendous than before, he immediately slapped it away and watched as it splashed in the bucket. The gunk sizzled away in a matter of seconds until the water was clear again.
Experimentally, he cupped his hand and scooped some of the water onto his leg. Mareus immediately regretted that because the smell was so overwhelming he released what little there was left in his stomach into the bucket.
While covering his nose, he hurriedly cleaned up the remainder of the gunk and made sure to only wash small sections before scraping away what came out into the bucket.
Train to distract himself, he started up a conversation with the woman watching over him. “You said you'd wait until I was ready. What am I supposed to be ready for?”
“Before anything else, we'll have to get you something substantial in your stomach, or you'll waste away completely. You’ll also be needing new robes that are preferably more durable. Your old ones are beyond anything that could be called clothes now, and there's no point of getting you ones that will only fall apart right away.”
Mareus stared at the tattered cloth that was no different than the rag he was using to wash his own body. Wondering just what exactly she had in store for him.
Next chapter

Previous chapter
“I hate it.”
Mareus slapped his mouth and bit down on his lips in a futile attempt to capture his half-asleep words. His body tensed while listening for any signs of the stranger, bracing himself for some monster of a person to come rushing from the dark to finish him off.
Though, it didn’t matter in the end if they were paying attention to him or not. They clearly already knew where he was and, for some reason, chose to leave him alone after pulling him from the rubble and treating his injuries.
He clutched at his stomach, his hunger pangs goading him to push aside the anxiety and crawl his way towards the bowl still waiting patiently for him. There were no signs of it being changed or infested by any of the creatures hiding away, in fact, a gentle warmth still radiated from it. A pleasant aroma floated through the still air as if it had a will of its own, enticing him like some carnivorous flower lying in wait.
Mareus ignored his pain and fatigue as he absentmindedly made his way closer to the beckoning meal. What was he so worried about? If the stranger hadn’t done anything yet, then they probably weren’t going to from the start. It wasn’t like he was in any state to resist them anyway.
That’s right. He justified. It’s just sitting there, waiting for me.
The bowl was only a breath away now. Mareus stretched against his bandages enough for the wrappings around his fingers to brush the rim before the markings let out a faint light and constricted his body. He was almost there and wouldn’t give up, one more time he resisted their binding and was able to hook his finger on the inside of the rim.
Putting all the strength he had into the one finger he fought against the rough, uneven ground to reel in his catch. A faint glow lit up the black stone and his heart stopped before his restraints forced his arm back. Spilling his only food in a mocking halo as the bowl rolled on its side.
That was it, his only food mixed in with the wet dirt of the cave floor. He almost dove at it before realizing the intense hunger and drive he had was now fading away. His hunger was still there to some degree, but now it was more like an emptiness scratching at the back of his stomach. The overwhelming desire to eat was almost entirely gone.
A faint breeze brought his attention back to the bowl and he watched as markings like the ones on his bandages let out one last dim breath of light. When they went dark his hunger returned to the back of his mind.
After crawling back into his hole, the cave was filled with the sounds of hundreds of insects rushing over and feasting on the spilled meal. The echoes of chitin tapping on stone and trudging through the mush assaulting his ears. Covering his ears only replaced their frenzy with the sound of his blood flowing through his ears.
Mareus alternated between listening to the rhythmic thumps lulling him to sleep and the chittering that convinced him, more than once, that the insects had crawled in his ears. The minutes drawing into hours, maybe even days, as reason began slipping away.
A gentle clack of wood being placed on stone silenced the world.
He carefully rolled over and saw another bowl, the insects were gone, the mess was cleaned. It was like everything that happened was a dream, only this time he didn’t have this unnatural drive compelling him to reach the bowl.
Whatever the markings were meant to do, this one didn’t seem to have them. He watched as the cave life made their way back to his food. They didn’t attack it right away this time, instead they circled their prey waiting for the right time. Mareus closed his eyes and focused on listening for their movements when he heard a damp thud that must have been one of them falling in the food.
That sound must have been the signal the rest were waiting for because they converged on the meal and devoured with a gluttony he didn’t know they were capable of. Despite the gut churning sounds, he focused on every bit as he counted his heart beat.
Two thousand four hundred and twenty…seven.
The cave had finally settled down again as the insects returned to their hiding places. Mareus kept counting though, he had to stay focused so he could figure out how to tell when the stranger was coming. He had no idea how often they came by but he needed to learn anything he could if he wanted to make it back home.
Twenty-eight thousand seven hundred and ninety-five.
Muffled steps approached the bowl and wordlessly replaced it with another, the gentle clank dancing around the cave walls. Words wanted to leave his mouth, to ask the stranger questions, to make demands. But, what would he say, what could he say?
Mareus’ chest tightened as he tried to find the words, his mind struggling with the growing distraction of the empty feeling in his stomach. They were gone as silently as they arrived.
He started counting again. Using the hunger pangs to fight his body’s cries for sleep he waited out another four or five changes of the bowl. He couldn’t remember exactly anymore as his guard lightened and the exhaustion wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Against his best effort sleep finally took him.
The elders were watching over the younger generations going about their routines. The whole village was in the middle of doing their morning exercises with the sunrise, the bigger clans and families had their yards filled with people flowing from stance to stance, while the smaller families gathered in front of the Elder’s Hall or practiced in their gardens.
Before he knew it, Mareus was running errands and was racing pass villagers tending to fields of medicinal herbs and vegetables while guards kept their eyes on the edge of the forest for any signs of wild beasts.
Then one day a doctor from some big sect visited them and told him that he had the cure to his diverted meridians. The village elders held a big celebration in front of their hall and they had a special ceremony where Granny Hua accepted him as a disciple. When he looked out to the crowd, the sun shone on hundreds of smiling faces.
Tears ran down his face as he smiled and waved at everyone. The salty taste made the world shimmer like a painting being washed away.
Please don’t go. He thought.
The infection of reality found its way into his heart and the dream continued to shimmer before warping and twisting the scene from before.
Mountains of rubble replaced the beautiful homes that stood for generations. One after another the people fell while letting out muted screams. Smoke began to fill the air like some ghostly fog and ash painted the now faceless bodies strewn everywhere. Bodiless cries fought with one another to be helped.
Mareus fell to his knees at the center of the destruction while pleading. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t take them from me again.”
The one eyed man towered over him, tall enough for his hair to brush the clouds. The evil in his clenched grin poured out like a thick miasma that choked him as he watched Sister Mai rushing over.
He tried to scream at her to stay away but his voice was now completely cut off. Mareus now stood over himself watching the helpless child he truly was, he followed his own pleading gaze and turned to watch a young woman he recognized but couldn’t place at the moment.
She picked up a piece of a wooden beam and charged at him, her tears turning to blood as she let out a voiceless scream.
Mareus quickly searched the sky for his enemy, Where are they? Why is it so quiet?
When he looked back down his arm was through the back of the woman and he finally recognized the angry face staring daggers at him as the light left her eyes.
He watched as the giant man turned back to him and let Mai’s lifeless body fall to the ground. The crimson drenching the monster’s hand leaking and painting his own with the blood of the woman he called his big sister.
The one eyed man shot into the air and the force of the impact shook him awake.
It was easier to fight his exhaustion this time as he waited for the stranger to replace the bowl. When they replaced it this time, they lingered as if they wanted to say something. This time the anger and pain he felt didn’t let him hesitate.
“Wh-“ His dry unused voice turned into a breath. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Why…”
The effort of forcing that whisper was already difficult, he wanted to say so much more. He couldn’t tell if they were still waiting in the dark, or if they were even willing to listen. His voice was clawing to get out, he was tired of waiting.
His skin buzzed as he waited and moistened his throat. The question was out there now, at least the most important part. ‘Why?’ There was so much more racing through his mind that he could add while the presence remained silent.
Why me? What made you save me? Why didn’t you leave me with them? Why do I have to be alone?
An unseen pressure grew in the dark as his question went unanswered. It was like the chill he would get coming back late at night and he felt like something was watching him from the forest, waiting to pounce. It kept growing sharper until a sudden cool warmth touched the nape of his neck and gingerly ran down the length of his back.
A cold, yet familiar feeling voice finally broke the silence. “It would be a waste. Letting such a potential vanish from this world.”
The stranger brushed the matted hair from his neck. Their simple and straightforward gesture giving off the feeling of a beast playing with its catch knowing it could kill it at anytime.
“I feel for your loss, truly. My heart aches for the ill fate that placed those ‘experts’ in your home. I couldn’t allow your path to end because of a game between mere children.” Their voice danced between compassionate and venomous.
The gentle pressure of them rubbing his back relaxed him and Mareus became even more aware of how tired and sore his body was. Although, as they continued it felt like everything faded away. Not so much as if he was being relieved of everything, it was more like everything was being taken away and swallowed by a void that wouldn’t make him take it back.
Mareus sat up slowly and with a hoarse voice he asked. “What makes me so special?” He inhaled, “Why didn’t you stop them?!” His scream tore into his lungs and filled his throat with the taste of iron.
Water filled his eyes as he faced the disembodied presence.
The stranger gently embraced him, their cool robes enveloping him. “Poor child.”
“You could have saved all of th-em.” His trembling voice couldn’t hide the pain any longer. Still, Mareus stared through blurry eyes and did his best to look them in the face.
A thin hand brushed away his tears. “My sweet boy, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there sooner. Their battle had already moved south, and what they left behind…” They trailed off.
While wrapped in their arms he listened to the grief in their voice. Unsure of what to think anymore. Why did they wait so long? Why did they leave me here in the dark? Were they hurt too? Mareus found himself wondering if he was being selfish.
“Before I could chase after them, I sensed the faint trace of your life clinging on to any shred of hope. After digging you out and applying some emergency medicine I lost track of their energies. Instead of searching for them I made the decision to at least make sure you survived.”
Mareus realized that there was something ethereal in the way they talked. Their tone wasn’t distant, but at the same time it felt like they were a world away from him. The image of a mother apologizing for something she wasn’t responsible for popped in his mind.
His body began to feel lighter than it had been since he woke up in the cave. “Thank you.” He relented.
He gingerly wiped away his tears as if testing if his body would suddenly start listening to him. When he opened them again, the dark world that surrounded him expanded and he could now see all the way to the other wall of the cave.
Am I really not in the afterlife? He thought.
The formless shadow of his savior was replaced with a celestial fairy that stepped out from one of Elder Guo’s stories and descended into this pit to comfort him. She wore a snow white hanfu with a wide sash that hugged tightly against her. The sleeves and hem were far longer than normal like if the seamstress forgot to remove the excess material.
Her otherworldly appearance stood out against the darkness with her iridescent skin illuminating the cave. Her shadow like hair, even darker than the surroundings blackness. She looked like a master craftsman had picked the most exquisite material to craft a lifelike doll that would shatter if you looked at it the wrong way. Only to the fill that doll with the essence of deepest parts of the night sky.
Mareus completely forgot his fatigue as he collapsed into a bow and laid his head to the floor. In an attempt to imitate the older members of his village when speaking to the elders, he said. “I apologize for being so disrespectful. I humbly want to thank the generous immortal for saving this life.”
His body trembled from the effort of supporting his weight, but he continued to wait as sweat formed on the back of his neck and ran down his face. Unsure of what this heaven-like being would do to him if he had disrespected her further.
Next chapter

Iam 39M, 5'11 and 185lbs. I'm in relatively good health but I suffer from GERD and IBS. About 2 years ago I started feeling this dull ache that comes and goes but the location has me puzzled. It's on the right side of my body between my stomach and back and it's on the same height where my right rib cage ends. Episodes are almost daily about 1-2 times a day and are very mild and they last between 15 to 30 minutes.

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

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Throwaway account because of how unbelievably vulnerable, and cringey, this topic is for me.
TLDR; I feel tied to a musician and would like advice whether I am projecting my fantasies, or if this is a true relationship from a past life, I should explore.
-Prelude-
I would like to preface this with a bit of context. I have never before "fan girled" over a particular celebrity, as I have the cognizance to comprehend that they are not holy, just humans such as myself. Fame matters not to me, and frankly, I sympathize with those placed upon altars by society and are unable to lead normal lives without every aspect of their livelihood scrutinized beneath a microscope. While I am able to venerate artists skills, talents, and the products of such, I do not perceive these humans as something to worship, nor do I feel any connection to them on a personal level. With this in mind, and upon completing this loquacious piece, you may question my hypocrisy and contradictions. This may be yet another justification, however, I would not be questioning my intentions if he were not "famous". In fact, I wish I had met him prior to his success, or in a lifetime where I am not questioning whether I am projecting these beliefs unto someone because something in me is only intrigued by the "mystery", even if I do not believe this is the case, his status, fame, fortune, nor career matter not to me, yet those exact reasons are why I must inquire, as must remain reasonable, to view this abnormality in every feasible spectrum, when piecing this puzzle together.
When I inquire internally, what is it exactly that draws me to him, my explanation falters. Is it solely the proses inscribed within his compositions that I relate to? No, as I am a melomanic and have ripped my wrists apart with my ability to identify profoundly with other vocalists discography’s, but cared not to become acquainted with their creators. Is it some repulsive need to unveil an anonymous figure? That does not interest me, for I respect and care not to understand various performers, authors and producers I enjoy, who wish to remain nameless that. Then WHAT is it?

Naturally, although I am spiritual, aligning with paganism and witchcraft, I still attempt to hold logic above all, persistently remaining accountable for my actions and thought process'. While there is this unwavering notion within me that I must get to know this person, that I HAVE known this being, I cannot help but question whether or not my conclusion of our familiarity being a past lives is a justification for some sick, parasocial projection of adoration. I shoulder the burden of shame, ridicule and feel, quite frankly, borderline insane for having this incredibly intense impulse to somehow reach forth to him. Not because I believe my feelings are shameful, merely for the singularity of the situation, the capriciousness of my position.
-The Story- Nevertheless, I discovered a musician roughly two years ago, one that is within an anonymous collective. There are little photographs of him floating through the ether, and he does not interact with his admirers, nor does he accept interviews.
That peculiar event had me questioning all I had believed of past lives, quantum mechanics, souls, the afterlife, and synchronicities. Which, attempting to rationalize this fervor, has led me to this forum.
I have this gnawing, aching desire to initiate communication, to quell this curiosity of why. At first, I theorized it was a limerence I had never experienced, simply as I enjoyed his creations more than I ever had any artist previously. Then, as I delved further into his discography, I realized what I felt was not simply empathy for the emotions he so exquisitely illustrated, those that no amount of literature, art, music, podcasts or even conversation between myself and others, have been able to so perfectly describe. It was something… more. Immediately I fought these strange cravings, chalking up anomalous emotions as excitement for discovering music that electrifies my blood.
This mortal has made it known he does wish to remain anonymous, and I absolutely respected these wishes, until his identity was unwittingly revealed to me. Upon initially viewing his visage, a twinge comparable to the feeling of forgetting something, to a thought looming just outside of fingertips reach, struck my ribcage. This reaction was so visceral, sparking wonderment and, admittedly, a bit of fear, as if accessing information I should not have, was the swirling depths of his eyes. Lapis lazuli's caging a soul, atoms, matter, that I have searched once upon a time, trusted, beseeched, vortexes I have collapsed into in ways so hauntingly known, as if imprinted into my coding, yet terrifyingly inaccessible to me. Who IS this figure to me, and why do I crave to know? This instance was utterly jarring and, frankly, uncomfortable, as if I just discovered The Matrix.
I chose to attend one of his gatherings, convinced this consuming need would be satiated. Alas, something unexpected occurred. While the eve of observing him perform did increase my appreciation of his art, I experienced a shift within that conclusively affirmed my hypothesis of our past lives intertwining. I could objectively understand that he was simply completing his obligations on stage, that I was lost within the crowd and there was no moment of "ohmygosh there he is!", butterflies beating my viscera, nor any of the usual notions associated with a "crush". Moreso, a disappointment blanketed me, that I did not only revel in his crafts, but that I also wanted to know the human behind the mask. I had hoped these thoughts were just a childish fascination, alas, the burden has crystallized my veins even further.
This revelation of sorts has me certain I have known this man in a past life, one I cannot begin to formulate into words. This cognition, an absolute conviction, that he was important to me, as if our molecules are composed of the same stardust, that our quantum ties are intrinsically woven through each continuum. A call from some chasm beckons me, a void that is thrusting me to converse with him. Which is f**king crazy, ridiculous, a sentiment I wish to rebuke. If I cannot, or should not, answer to this revelation some unforeseen God is willing me to, how can I silence it?
While he is clearly attractive, transcendentally talented and intelligent beyond grasp, I do not wish to know him for any other reason than to understand him, this unshakeable sensation of significance between us, to explore what we have been or could be, to be a person whom he may rely on- whether that be friends, some familial bond, or romantically. Some fragment within me calls from a forbidden realm, demanding that I transmit my thoughts of consolation, express my vulnerability, and even advice regarding a few of the sentiments he has shared previously within his concerts. That, even if my attempt at interaction is rejected, he is aware that he does not suffer alone, and perhaps finds some form of solace in my words. If he does not wish to know me in the way I him, as why would he?, I would be pleased if he only had the comfort of my sentiments, even if he did not remember who or what exactly was written to him, on days where existing is unbearable.
-The Questions- Does my experience sound similar to others discovering a poignant past life connection/relationship? Or have I simply curated an unhealthy attachment with this person? If not, should I attempt to make contact with them? For further context, the "fandom" of this particular individual is rather teeming with "fangirls", some of which border on obsessive and skirt boundaries. Although, if I am being honest with myself, I could very well be included in this. The entire situation is so completely unlike me that I am wavering in my resolve, as I typically act very deliberately, and know what I want, need, have to do in the majority of my decisions. I can confidently proclaim this confusion is driving me mad. Or, perhaps, I always have been.
Thank you for your time, consideration and commentary, truly, as I do realize how verbose this confession is.

Anyone else dealt with/dealing with this? After two years and many doctors, I'm still totally in the dark, and every week feels like I'm getting worse and worse. But I don't even know what's what, which makes it harder for me to try and figure it out.
My laundry list of issues, both physical and mental, includes:

• 24/7 throbbing ache in my upper back/shoulder & neck region
• 24/7 throbbing ache and constant tension in my calves, even if I've been sitting all day
• Lower back pain (and increased leg pain) from standing or walking (especially standing)
• Generally prone to a lingering muscle ache & soreness from even the slightest physical activity, in literally every/any part of my body. Including just... sitting for too long.
• Daily headaches
• Retrolisthesis of the neck (vertebrae are curved the wrong way), a few disc bulges in both cervical and lumbar regions, and scoliosis -- these might account for some of the back pain, but it feels like there's more to it
• ADHD (inattentive type, I think; I take adderall for it) and possibly(?) depression
• Brain fog, lack of motivation, avoidant tendencies
• Low energy, tired all the damn time
• Probably more that I'm forgetting :')

So it's like...am I tired all the time because of my pain, or is it a symptom of a chronic condition? Same with the brain fog; is it from the ADHD or is it a sign of something else? Are the headaches from the neck issue? Are the back and leg pain connected, or two separate issues? Whenever I talk to doctors, I tend to bring up almost all of this (in even more detail), and they often seem to be confused by it. And so am I tbh; I don't even know how to research possibilities or solutions. Any advice??

Mr. Noland Arbaugh, who has been paralyzed for 8 years, says that when he was 22 years old, he hit his head on something in the water and injured his spinal cord. Then his body below the shoulder became paralyzed.
But when in January 2024, Mr. Noland became the first patient of this chip and shared his experience with "Good Morning America's" Will Reeve.
So Mr Arbaugh told how Neuralink Brain Implant Chip changed his life. This device gave him the ability to have complete control over using the computer through his thoughts.
Now I can access the computer easily. Like normal people do, it was difficult for me to do all this earlier.
Will Reeve asked whether you were afraid that something could be wrong with you. Mr. Arbaugh replied that participating in this kind of groundbreaking scientific research that works to improve the lives of paralyzed people. This is good in a way.
I knew it was quite risky, but it would take a lot of headache and heartache away from the people down the road.
But recently there were some problems with this technology due to which the company had to remove the device from Mr. Arbaugh's brain. Some data was also lost because a number of the implants thread retracted.
Mr. Arbaugh said he was emotional and in awe of the device that made such a difference to his life. Now they will lose him.
It was very hard to leave something amazing that I was capable of doing. Maybe I even cried. However, Mr. Arbaugh's connection was enhanced by Neuralink technology.
Now he hopes that a day will come when spinal cord injuries will no longer be completely debilitating. I don't think it's as far away as people think.
Mr. Arbaugh said it would be surprising if someone had a spinal cord injury, went to the hospital, had surgery, and came out a few days later. I think it's going to happen.
What is Neuralink? Neuralink is a brain technology startup founded by Elon Musk. Its implant allows the patient to control the computer with his thoughts. Mr Musk said the company will start working with patients who have physical limitations such as cervical spinal cord loss or severe disease like quadriplegia.
Mr Musk's ambition is to supercharge human abilities, cure neurological diseases like ALS or Parkinson's and maybe one day create a truly symbiotic relationship between humans and artificial intelligence.

Context:
I’m rewriting my WIP for the fifth (and hopefully last) time to make the story more character driven and make my characters motivations stronger. I’ve changed the first three chapters so many times I have no idea what’s good anymore. It’s a portal fantasy Reverse Harem with fated mates. You only meet two love interests in the intro (and one of them only shows up towards the very end of the set up), but I am just looking to see if my FMC's motivations make sense, or if I have made the Set Up too convoluted and given her too many goals.
**Please note the scenes I am posting have been written as an outline, and is not intended to read line by line like a finished manuscript. I will be writing it in First person POV when I finish plotting.**
Backstory (TLDR; Character A needs to gain access to the Other World so she can make a bargain to trade her Father's life for hers, we open on the 6th anniversary of him being taken, her 24th birthday. I ramble on for quite a bit so if you would like to get right into it please skip to Intro/Set Up)
Motivation:
Character A’s Father was stolen by otherworldly creatures 6 years ago and taken to their lands. Character A harbours guilt and blames herself because she disobeyed her Fathers rules and snuck into the woods with her friends on her 18th birthday to go swimming. Her Father came looking for her and that is when she witnessed him being taken.
In the area they live in, disappearances around the full moon were common, with many losing their loved ones over the last 50 years with no explanation. There were a lot of theories of aliens, bigfoot, cougars, werewolves, and only her Father claimed that magic wielding creatures were responsible.
Character A grew up being told stories about these lands, how the creatures enslaved humans to play in their games until they died for entertainment. Her Father told her magic was real but it was to be feared and to run from any sign of the unusual, forbade her from leaving her house after sunset or from ever going into the woods, and he always tried to keep her close to him.
He had a hard time holding down a job due to the grief he felt from losing Character A’s mother during childbirth and when he would drink he would make it known that he resented Character A for derailing his life, because now he was burdened with protecting her instead of living as a family. Her mother was buried there and her father refused to move away from her body. Character A internalized this, feeling guilty for being the reason he struggled so much, and spent her life caring for her father the way she would a child. Cooking, cleaning, paying bills, etc. She would even get revenge on his bosses for firing him. Her Father always claimed it was never his fault, that they were abusing their power and couldn’t handle somebody smarter than them, and losing his job would send him into an alcoholic depression.
Character A heard her Fathers words, and combined with the way out-of town business men had turned her small mountain town into their own personal resort, developed a deep hatred for anyone that held power. She would find little ways to get revenge on her Fathers bosses, and when she was older, spent her spare time getting revenge on the trust fund kids who didn’t care if their actions had consequences for the people living there.
She had a big dream of leaving her small town and exploring the world, but she felt responsible for her Father. She took care of him, and she was afraid of what would happen to him if she left, but she knew she was suffocating under him. Although her guilt and love for her father prevented her from seeing the full truth of what he was, narcissistic and abusive, deep down she knew and she became restless under his restriction.
When she was young she believed his stories but as she got older and never saw any evidence to back up his claims, the more she chaffed against his rules and started sneaking out. She wasn’t dumb, she always carried a knife and bear spray. She read up on what to do if you encountered a predator in the forest, and she begun stealing what little freedom she could for herself. She didn’t believe in magic, wolves and mountain lions were the only things that made sense to her.
Wound:
After her Father is taken Character A is broken. Everything her Father said was true, all he was trying to do was keep her safe, but she disobeyed him and now he was taken to a magical land to be tortured by never ending games. She is distraught and depressed. She begins sleeping in the woods, hoping to be taken too so her pain can end.
A few months later, at the end of summer, her best friend and boyfriend, the only people her father approved of her spending time with, tell her that they still plan to leave for the year long trip they were all going on. They want to start their lives, they think Character A has become delusional in the wake of her Fathers disappearance, they can’t be stuck there taking care of her, they can’t handle her emotions, they need a fresh start. She realizes they have been having an affair, she internalizes them telling her she is too much to handle and that she is unlovable. She was a burden on her father and then a burden on them. She doesn’t see them again for six years.
Present Day:
Character A has spent the last six years trying to get to the other world during the full moon. The weeks in between she spends physically training, researching anything she can, working just enough to cover her bills for the month, and distracting herself with casual flings or sleeping with the trust fund kids in order to gain access to something she wants to steal from them as payback for something they have done. She never lets herself get too close to anyone, knowing that she plans to disappear, but she partied with whoever is willing to distract herself until the next full moon.
Every passing year on her birthday she grows more and more desperate. She begins researching magic spells and rituals that might show her the entrance to the otherworld. She finds a newly discovered mushroom being sold that claims to help you see what is hidden from human eyes.
Character B:
A month ago Character B was sent from the other wolrld to retrieve Character A. She is the descendant of a lost royal line and they have received a vision from the goddess that she is her Heir, the key to defeating the darkness and restoring balance to the land. Character B does not live a good life in the other world, he is nothing but a glorified prisoner in his own life, and all he’s ever wanted was a family of his own, but because of the queen and his father, he cannot have that. He avoids confrontation, always choosing to run from his problems instead of fight. He first lays eyes on Character A as she is driving a motorcycle into a lake.
He is unsure if the vehicle is supposed to drive under water, so he waits a moment before trying to do a rescue. He doesn’t know it’s her until she swims up into the shore, and begins gathering weeds from the lakebed. he thinks she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and can’t imagine dragging her back to his world where she could be in danger. He wants to watch the curious human for a bit longer to see what she does
He silently follows her and watches her climb into a window and place the weeds around a man sleeping in a bed, then creep down the hallway to an office where she unlocks a safe and pulls out a stack of papers. She then meets up with somebody, hands over the papers with a hug, then walks into the forest.
She walks and walks and he realizes she heading towards the portal and gets nervous, until she reaches a tree with five different coloured ribbons tied around one branch. She takes a new yellow ribbon , adds it to the branch and continues walking until she reaches another tree with ribbons where she adds another ribbon, then walks to the very centre of both trees and sits down. She softly hums a tune to herself.
She seems relaxed, strong and confident, he thinks this must be some new human ritual he hadn’t heard of yet and her humming is soothing to him, but he notices a shiver. He feels a strong need. To wrap her up in a blanket and make her warm. He decides right then that he cannot take her back and ruin her peace, that he himself would not go back, that he would befriend her and they would hide together her in her world and they would be safe and happy. It was pointless trying to fight anyway, they were never going to win and it would be better for them both to be safe and far away from the evil queen.
The next morning he follows her to her favourite coffee shop, glamoured to look more human and remove his pointy ears, and introduces himself as a man trying to get away from his overbearing parents and family he doesn’t get along with.
Intro/Set Up
Chapter 1
-Character A is thinking about how she has to get laid tonight, because it will be her last chance before she disappears and probably dies. Character A is stealing some documents and a bunch of cash from a safe in The Guys home office, she pulls a bag out of her pocket and with it, a card for the bookstore she works at flutters under his desk. She puts the documents and money in the bag and bends down to pick it up when she notices the family photo on the desk and she stops.
It is a picture of The Guy, His Son that she stole and crashed his bike into a lake last month, and The Other Son that she may have killed nine months ago when she burned his cabin down. She is filled with rage when she looks at the photo and thinks she doesn’t regret what she’s done. Character B calling her phone snaps her out of it and when she hears someone come home, she leaves, but she forgets the card.
-She stops at the bookstore to give Coworker 1 the documents and money. Coworker 1 says she will never be able to thank her, that this was the last thing she needed she could get out of town. Character A tells her good luck and to give them hell. Coworker 1 is leaving town tomorrow, she connected with a journalist who can help her expose The Guy and once she does she won’t be able to come back. Coworker 1 is very grateful to her, and Character A makes sure to tell herself that they aren't friends, because friendship requires a level of vulnerability that Olivia could not give her, but she knew Coworker 1 was a good person and deserved so much more than what she got when The Other Son sexually assaulted her at work while His Son filmed it. How when she received a payout in exchange for her silence they knew it wasn’t the first time. They were determined to find further evidence, and they did. Signed NDA’s from all of the employees they had paid off in the past.
Character B joins them at the store. Character A is petting her beloved bookstore cat and goes to pull some treats out of her bag. Her hand brushes against a vial of red and white mushrooms and Character A hopes that they are the key she has been searching for. For six years she has felt like she has been brushing up against the edge of something, but has never been able to get herself to the other side. She was deep in a witchcraft discussion forum when somebody posted about a new discovery of mushrooms, one that allowed the ingestor to see through the Veil, to show them all the magic they cannot see. The poster was pretty insistent that it wasn’t just a trip, that they were able to see threads of magic. After years of failed meditating, drinking teas, burning herbs,and chanting spells around the ley line conversion and not finding anything, what did she have to lose with some magic mushrooms?
Character B calls her name, startling her from her thoughts and she knocks over a box of alien and bigfoot merch. Coworker 1 cracks a joke about being careful with the product or else the alien truthers will riot, Character A rolls her eyes at the people who flocked there in search of the wrong thing. Character B apologizes for startling her and says he was just admiring one of her new Boxwood Topiaries, three trees of varying height that ended with hearts on top, and she says she finished it yesterday.
She loves plants but, like a cat, she can’t commit to having them because she doesn’t plan to be around long, so she does topiary art as a compromise, and the extra money she earns goes towards buying her herbs and mushrooms. Her Father never managed to save much money and she wasn’t left with much after he was taken. She had to use her savings replacing the furnace in her home shortly after her Father was taken, and now she only worked enough to keep her living until the next paycheck. She spent the rest of her time training and researching. Preparing to go to Wonderland in search of her Father.
Character B is making friends with the cat, having charmed it onto its belly, and Coworker 1 gives Character A a knowing look. Character A shakes her head, says they are just hanging out, nothing serious. Coworker 1 says he could be good for her. She knew they had been hanging out, that Character A had let him stay at her house for the last two weeks. She wasn’t judging though, Character A seemed lighter around him, and he was so nice. She had seen him helping Mrs. Smith with her groceries the other day.
Character A thinks that was what initially warmed her up to him. Coworker 1 was right, she never brought guys home, but the first week that he was here he had never failed to notice when people needed help and always offered to lend a hand. Plus he was fun, and fun to look at, and he was always looking for a new adventure. He took her mind off of what a failure she was for not saving her Father yet, and he seemed relatively harmless. So when he said he had never seen her favorite comedy movie she just HAD to take him home to watch it. And he hadn’t left, she hadn’t asked him to. It was becoming a problem. Because she was going to disappear tonight, and a small part of her was beginning to feel sad she would never see him again. It was why she hadn’t slept with him yet, she knew she enjoyed his company just a little too much and wouldn’t risk any further attachment. Character A agreed that he was a good person but emphasized that it was just casual. Coworker 1 says alright, she will back off, and she will let them get to the party. She needs to finish packing and wants to leave as soon as possible. Character A says she understand, they hug and say goodbye.
Chapter 2
-Character A and Character B are walking to the Board Game party. They are dressed as Clue characters, she is Miss. Scarlet and Character B is Mr. Green. They had played every board game she owned, which was a lot of them, in order to decide what to dress up as for the Your Favorite Board Game Party. He turned out to be a good competitor and got way more into the games than she expected him to.
He hands her a cinnamon bun, her favorite, and tells her he had made a whole batch for her, claiming that he knew she hadn’t gotten one since they were hiking that morning, and all she had eaten that day was trail mix and beef jerky and he refuses to let her party on an empty stomach. She happily takes a huge bite, grateful for this one thing she loved before she left this world forever.
He says he’s been thinking and asks her to go traveling with him. She almost chokes on her food. His words rush out and he assures her he has money and can pay for everything and they can go anywhere she wants. Her heart sinks into her stomach. Before her Father went missing, an offer like that from a hot guy would have been her dream, but she couldn’t now, or ever. She looks at the half eaten cinnamon bun, thinks how he had made them because he had gotten coffee with her every morning for the last three weeks, and he saw how every Saturday and Sunday morning she would get a cinnamon bun the size of her face and eat it. She looks at the Green jacket he wore and remembers laughing in the thrift shop as he tried on a full leather catsuit while they searched for the perfect outfit for the party. He was too good. She begins to think that in another life, they could go. They could adopt an adventure cat and take it with them on their world travels, but that wasn’t possible for her. She wasn’t staying in this world, and even if she was, she was too messed up. Too broken. Too much of a burden. And she could never give all of herself to one person ever again, she did it twice, and was broken by both of them because she was too much.
She decides he’s gotten too close and she needs to push him away, so in the hopes that it will scare him, she explains that she can’t leave because her Father was stolen by a magical creature and taken to the Other World. She tells him the entire story her father told her, of creatures luring people to the Other World and keeping them for the Queen's entertainment, forced to be pawns in her games. They are ruthless and obsessed with games and everything reeks of roses. She tells him its her fault that he got taken and she can’t live with herself until she either gets him back or gets revenge for his death.
Character B begins pleading with her, telling her she shouldn't go. She is surprised he doesn’t balk or think she is crazy. He isn’t looking at her the way Ex-Bestfriend and Ex-Boyfriend did, like they feared she would infect them with her crazy, no, he looks at her with genuine terror in his eyes. She stops walking, they are just outside the party house. What do you know? She says. He inhales and steps forward, desperation etched into hs features, and says that he knows that everything she said was true, and that it is much worse than she even thinks. That if she goes, she will not make it back here. It’s too dangerous, and he just wants to keep her safe. She is flabbergasted, and checks over his features for signs. No pointed ears, no animalistic features such as scales or a tail, no strange eyes. How do you know all this? He doesn’t answer, his mouth works like he’s trying to come up with something and betrayal starts to roil in her gut.
Before he has the chance to lie, two men throw their arms around their shoulders. It is the couple that Character A hooks up with on occasion. They start walking them into the house and the one with Character A asks if she wants to come over later for a joint and to hook up. She tries to muster up a yes, it is what she wanted after all, but she can’t think straight after her conversation with Character B. She turns back to see he’s been steered into a conversation with a few other people and thinks she needs a drink to calm herself and give her some courage.
-She walks into the kitchen for a glass and bumps into her Ex-Boyfriend. She is thrown for a loop again. He says Happy Birthday and remarks that he didn’t think he would find her at a party today, since he knows how much she hates her birthday. Character A is surprised to see him and momentarily forgets about Character B, and asks what they’re doing back in town. He says its because Ex-Bestfriends mom is still missing. Character A says, oh, right. And feels stupid for thinking she wouldn’t run into them. She was devastated to hear Ex-BFFs Mom had been taken, she was like a second mother to her, but after Ex-BFF left she couldn’t stand to look at her Mom anymore and remember what she had lost.
He mentions something about the baby coming soon and Ex-BFF wanting to be as close to her mom as she can. Character A questions the baby and he tells her they are pregnant. Character A flashes back to both of them telling her they were leaving and couldn’t stay in contact with her anymore, that she had become too much for them to handle on the horizon of their new lives. She noted the way they looked at each other and how their knees pressed together, and that was when she knew they had been having an affair. She comes back to the present when he leans in close and says he actually wants to ask her some questions about her dad. She sees a familiar head with a mop of blonde hair moving through the crowd towards them. Seeing Ex-Boyfriend was bad enough, she cannot see Ex-Bestfriend. See her pregnant. And now he wants to hear what she has to say about the disappearances? You can go fuck yourself, she spits and walks away before he can say anything else, and thankfully, before Ex-Bestfriend reaches her. She thinks his betrayal hurt her, but her betrayal broke her.
-She is fleeing the kitchen, heading for the back door, desperate to get away from them, when she bumps into an attractive man in a red velvet sport coat with a red velvet top hat. They are both imprinted with roses. He apologizes for bumping into her and her heart skips a beat, thinking of the Queen's obsession with roses. She asks him who he's supposed to be and he smiles but pauses before saying his name is Character C, he’s friends with Character B, and her heart stops all together. A chill runs through her and Character B interrupts and asks him what he’s doing here. Character C hugs him and says its good to see him and says he thought he was dead. Character C turns to Character A and says that he took off for a month without saying anything, could she even believe it? And they had an important event that the three of them needed to attend tonight. Character B starts to argue with Character C when Character A hears her name called. The Guy she stole from is there, he holds up the card to the bookstore that fell under his desk and said he wants the contents of his safe back, and maybe the sheriff will go easy on her if she returns it, or maybe he won't since he will also be investigating his cabin burning down and one of his sons going missing. Character A plays dumb but he grabs her around the neck and says he knows it was her, she’s a pathetic bum just like her father. Character B punches him, forcing him to release her and they begin fighting. The other partygoers jump to Character A’s defense and start fighting the other guys that came with him. Character C picks up Character A after she was knocked over to keep her from being trampled, and Character B breaks away when The Guy starts fighting with someone else. So they turn and head for the door, but The Guy's Son, the same one from last month who she stole the bike from, blocked the back door.
-Character A turns and together they run into the basement, locking the door behind them. They run down the stairs and into a bedroom where she locks the door again. She whips out her knives and points one at Character C. “Why do you want me to go to the Other World?” He holds up his hands and smiles, “I need your help finding a weapon that will help me defeat the Queen .” “Why me?” “The Goddess showed me in a dream that it is you. I will pay you in gold and return you back here, unharmed, once you find it.” Character A hears them break through the basement door and descend the stairs. “Fine, I’ll help you do it.” Character B protests and steps forward but she gestures the knife at him and he stops. “But first, you will help me find my Father and send him back here. Alive. And healthy.” All she knows about the Other World is what she could glean from her Fathers stories and what she was able to research about lore, but she had no idea what was accurate and what was not. She would be a fool to think she should turn away help if she could bargain for it. “I will help you find you Father, but it won’t be until after tonight, we must attend the Queens party so you can search for the weapon, this is the best opportunity we will have for another year.” The Guy begins banging on the door. She took it back, she was being a fool, she had very little hope that she would be able to fulfill her end of the bargain, but she was out of time, and she may never have a chance to get to the Other World again. “Deal.” She says as she steps forward to shake his hand. Character C grasps it and an electrical charge runs up her arm. He pulls a small vial out of his pocket. He dumps some black sparkly powder on his tongue and a hole appears in the floor. Grabbing Character B’s hand as well they jump through it just as the door breaks open.
If you have read this far, seriously thank you so much and I love you and if you want feedback on anything please direct me to where I can provide it!
I wanted to note that the mention about her potentially killing The Other Son is relevant to the plot because he did not die in the fire, he was lured to the Other World and will be there as an antagonist when Character A shows up. Also, the mushrooms become relevant to her finding the weapon in book 2. She gets sidetracked this book by finding her father and bargaining to take his place in the game (the party they are attending is to watch this game take place) and having to fight her way out of them. The entire first book takes place over the course of one single night.

Let's start by saying that I am in a group of friends in which there are several boys and several girls. I live on a university campus and so we often meet up just to smoke a cigarette or study together. Every month or so, they organize a party here where there are always a lot of people and usually my group of friends and I have fun together. In September 2023, a friend (who is the closest to me in the group and who we will call by the name of "Stella") introduces me to a girl, with whom I talk all evening, we have the same interests and in general we get along well talking, but nothing much happens that party night. To shorten it, we get together after a few days. For the first few days I was hesitant and then I completely fell in love with it. Months pass, the university session arrives and I can't pass any of the exams I had to pass. Small aside, since I live on campus with a scholarship, by July 2024 I have to pass all the first year exams with an average of 24/30, I have four to go. In that period I don't know what came over me but I tightened my hands around her neck almost to drown her, and then removed my grip and apologized for the gesture I had made. What I did doesn't make logical sense, but I attribute it now thanks to a therapy I'm following, which was associated with the study. The first time we "underestimated" it, or rather she had nightmares and difficulty sleeping at night but we had never had a serious discussion about this thing, also, and here I admit it, because I hadn't started talking seriously about this either. Some time passes and classes start again, I felt like sometimes I wasn't focused on studying, I had difficulty studying and I took refuge from her. Well this frustration was repeated a second time with the same gesture towards her. This time we talked about it, and seriously considered starting therapy because it was clear I needed help. A week goes by, in which I don't notice anything special, and she writes me a message: "I don't feel well, I want to sleep alone tonight", thinking that she might have a stomach ache or a headache, I decide to go up to her and see how are This time we talked about it, and seriously considered starting therapy because it was clear I needed help. A week goes by, in which I don't notice anything special, and she writes me a message: "I don't feel well, I want to sleep alone tonight", thinking that she might have a stomach ache or a headache, I decide to go up to her and see how she was doing. She opens the door for me, I ask her how she is, and she replies with "everything is fine but I have to talk to you". She tells me that she no longer has feelings towards me and that she can't continue, I tell her that we can always help each other but she, undaunted, decides to end it anyway. Days go by in which I try to "win her back" without success, I go to talk to her and tell her that I would move on. The problem is that often when I'm with my friends, she's there too and after talking to her, seeing her often gave unwanted results. I felt bad again, and I couldn't stop thinking about what I did. I decide to go and talk to her, this time asking her to try again. I get a categorical no. He tells me he's getting scared and wants his space, and I rightly agreed. Let's get to the point, what happened yesterday. After the last time we spoke, I didn't write to her anymore and at most I said hello when we passed each other around campus, nothing more. Obviously we take into account the group dinners where we were both there or during the study. Last night, it was Stella's boyfriend's birthday, and both my ex and I were there. Towards the end of the evening the girls, talking to each other, raise the topic of dating and, since I was literally half a meter away from them, I hear my ex say that she is dating a boy off campus and that it's nothing special though. serious and that there was only something "carnal". I stare into space for 20 seconds to say I feel sleepy and go home. Needless to say, I cried late into the night because deep down I still have feelings for her and knowing that she was able to move on from our relationship in less than a month pretty much killed me. In the end that's all. I would like your opinion and you are free to tell me anything that comes to mind.

i (20f) am on a trip with my father. in the past 4 days, i feel that he’s done irreparable damage to our relationship. i’m going to try to list off what behaviours and patterns ive noticed from him.

• he says “i don’t remember saying that” and “you’re making that up” when confronted calmly about something he said that was rude or hurtful. he also says, “i’m your father, i would never do that” for things that he did do
• he constantly puts down my mother and sister when they are not relevant to the conversation
• he puts in earbuds instead of talking to me, and then gets upset that we haven’t made conversation
• he accuses me of constantly disagreeing with him and has said verbatim that i should agree with everything he says
• when i cry, he calls me dramatic and walks away
• instead of asking if i’m okay, he demands that i tell him what to do or else he will make no effort to comfort me
• he sighs loudly and pretends he has a stomach ache and headache when he’s being criticized (i say pretend because it seems to only flare up when he’s being criticized)
• he gives me the silent treatment for hours and does not respond to me begging him to speak to me
• he called me spoiled and ungrateful and believes my sister and i have a vendetta against him that is caused by my mother trash talking him, when from my experience i find that my mother actually enables him
• he demands that i learn to ignore what he says instead of asking “why did you say that” to thinly veiled criticisms or things that i was genuinely confused about
• he gets upset when i ask him for directions because he thinks i’m challenging him
• he forces me to make decisions as a way to punish me (e.g. if i am trying to decide if we should have dinner now or later, i obviously ask him what he prefers. he says “up to you,” and then gets upset if i choose the option that he doesn’t want to do)
• he used to have extreme temper issues and he was abused as a child, but he seemed to calm down over the course of my childhood (he never hit us). but i’m now seeing the same behaviours i used to see.

i’m stuck on this trip for another 2 and a half weeks. i’m going to try to grey rock him for now, but im considering going low-contact with him (i don’t have the means to go no contact at the moment) as soon as we get home. any advice or insight on how to deal with him and enjoy this trip in spite of him would be greatly appreciated.