Monday morning sayings

Feeling insane regret right now as I was invited to go the hospital as they were going to unplug her but I chose not to go.
I did go visit her on Monday but she was all tubed up and having surgery done on her so I couldn’t really touch her and speak to her or anything just observe.
I feel emotionless and deep regret at the same time. I’m trying to help my mom out around the house but I still don’t feel like it’s enough. I’m an ahole for not supporting her on these times fully but I just can’t bring myself to go and be surrounded by everyone.
Am I just being really disrespectful? Theres a gathering right now at my aunts house with about 20+ people and I’m just sitting here in my room in the dark. I would say that I love my mom so much but I can see how that might not be true given everything I’ve just typed but I really do. Deeply. I would die for her.
Please any insight or similar experiences? I’m already a loser on a day to day basis but this right here just has me questioning everything about myself and my creator’s existence.

Busy doing what exactly Emma? Why didn’t you have 2 videos ready for the weekend? In the vlogs you ALWAYS say “I have nothing better to do” or “I have nothing to do” you should’ve been filming a video instead of sitting on your couch and watching bridgerton this week. Your show comes AFTER you finished all your work, that’s when you can relax and chill. Also what were you doing in the morning after dropping your sister off at school? Having plans with friends? If so, that needs to stop because you need to start getting your priorities straight, again plans should come AFTER you finish ur shit.
Also what about your added Wednesdays you promised in January, when will you talk about that? You love to talk and make excuses so you can do absolutely NOTHING.

hello I reverted about three months ago and before islam I summoned a succubus and had sex with it many times. After reverting I tried to sever ties amicably and transitioned to ignoring it and cutting it off. I memorised the last three surahs, reciting them morning and evening and reciting them into my hands at night and wiping my body three times. I also recite ayat Al kursi before bed although I have yet to memorise it aswell.
I also do 100 recitations of "la ilaha ill Allah wahdahu la sharikah lahu lahu l mulk wa lahulhamd wa huwa ala kulli shai'in qadeer" every morning or at least before sunset depending on circumstances. I have been doing all of these practices every day for a while and I suppose just to share for who may find it useful, I think the wiping with the three surahs at night is most effective for me at least.
I still have to deal with it arousing me at times throughout the day, usually when I am not moving it will start stimulating my genitals and I will feel it in my abdomen and chest and my body will feel the release of oxytocin and I become hot and flustered and red in the face if I dont put a stop to it quickly. Not to mention the lust. I also sometimes hear it say a few words occasionally, usually I love you. I can't see it and never could and what I described has more or less always been the extent of the relationship except prior to islam I would indulge it and have sex with it.
inshaAllah I am determined to be the best muslim I can be but I'm just unsure of how to feel about this circumstance and would like to outline my thoughts and then hear what your thoughts are please;
so as a revert Allah has atleast forgiven all of my past sins if not annulled them, so I wonder why he is allowing for this jinn to continue with this behaviour. Not to boast but rather to paint a picture, I meet all of my obligations and am fastidious about correcting errors and addressing doubts, making istaghfar and doing voluntary worship, good deeds, charity, sharing beneficial knowledge etc. so I have no reason to believe he is cursing me with this burden. Either it's a trial of patience for my reward in Jannah if I am worthy of it, or I am supposed to do something else to get rid of it other than ignore it and do dhikr. If it's the former do any of you have any ideas?
I feel Allah has gifted me greatly in terms of my circumstance, disposition, and capability. If he so wills I am well set to be a good muslim and a beneficial person except for this constant fitnah tempting me into fornication multiple times a day. I have looked into if their is any way to justify it - like seeing if I don't have any obligation to fight off the molestation so long as I don't become an active participant or the possibility of marriage. I have found nothing that makes me sure I wouldn't fall into sin and/or disbelief if I deviate from my current approach.
I don't want to seek an exorcist as I don't trust that anyone I contacted wouldn't be incompetent or deluded and I'd rather not risk going to a brother only for them to fail in banishing it and for me to think ill of them as a result. Also I don't see how exorcists don't fall under the same purview as priests and rabbis i.e. seeking refuge with Allah alnoe ought to be sufficient.
Honestly I believe I could put up with it the way it is for the rest of my life insha'Allah since the dhikr makes it quite tolerable and it's a good daily habit to have in general but at the same time I just don't feel assured that this is correct. Like im putting a bandage over a wound and not letting it heal. Like I'm committed to what is fundamentally "unfinished business".
So yeah thankyou kindly for reading if you made it this far and please let me know your thoughts especially if you consider yourself knowledgeable - or even possessing knowledge you're unsure of that you think could be helpful! I will take and read anything and like to think I have the sensibility to not be taken in and convinced by potential falsehoods if that's a concern 😊

Ouch. Today is my birthday, woke up and my BP wasn’t feeling happy and had a bad nights sleep. They said good morning and happy birthday to me, I said thank you and then just went about my morning trying to give them space. But they took it the wrong way and it EXPLODED. We got into a huge fight they packed all their things and left to their parents house. We’ve been back and forth for a few months on R and some days they say it’s over and others they are willing to try (as I’ve said in previous posts). But I am so incredibly hurt that they would do this today of all days. It almost feels spiteful and vengeful. I’m so incredibly hurt, scared and lonely. I don’t know what to do with myself. I have no family in the area. I’m so sad that I did this to our marriage and that it’s my fault we’re in this place. I want to do everything and anything to win them back. We have CC later this week but they said they weren’t sure they were going to go. They said I could text them and maybe they would respond but not to call them. So I’m trying my best to just give them space but I’m so afraid if I give them too much space it will help them further away. Sorry for rambling I’m just so alone and scared just looking for some words of encouragement and maybe some advice.

So, I know it’s a hook up and commonly the time to meet in person is immediately.
But let’s say the vibe me and this person have been having is more of a chatty, friendly vibe, when would be the appropriate time to suggest meeting in person? Drinks/coffee/walk kinda thing?
I don’t want to be too eager and come across crazy, but I want to at least seem interested and I worry that if you leave the chatting too long it won’t be anything more than chatty?
We started talking Friday, would tomorrow (Monday) be an appropriate time?

I remember the night vividly, even though it was years ago when I was twelve. My family and I were on an overnight ferry trip across a vast, dark expanse of water. The ferry was an old one, creaking and groaning as it cut through the waves, its once vibrant paint now faded and chipped. The sea was eerily calm, and a thick fog had settled over the water, making everything outside the ferry seem ghostly and surreal.
We had booked a small cabin, just big enough for the four of us. After a long day of traveling, we settled into our bunks, the rhythmic hum of the ferry's engines vibrating through the walls. My parents fell asleep quickly, and my younger sister dozed off with her teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms. But I lay awake, unable to shake an unsettling feeling.
It was sometime after midnight when I heard it—a soft, distant whisper. At first, I thought it was the wind, but the whispers grew louder, more insistent. It sounded like a conversation, but the words were muffled and indistinct, like they were being spoken underwater. I sat up in my bunk, straining to listen, but the whispers stopped.
I tried to tell myself it was just my imagination, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I glanced around the dimly lit cabin, my eyes lingering on the shadows that seemed to dance and shift with the ferry's movements. I decided to get up and explore, hoping to find something to distract me from my unease.
I slipped out of the cabin, careful not to wake my family, and made my way down the narrow, dimly lit corridors of the ferry. The fog outside pressed against the windows, making the interior of the ship feel even more isolated. As I walked, I heard the whispers again, this time closer, echoing down the hallway.
Following the sound, I ended up on the deck. The fog was so thick I could barely see a few feet in front of me, and the cold, damp air chilled me to the bone. The whispers were louder now, unmistakably coming from somewhere nearby. My heart pounded as I crept toward the bow of the ferry, the source of the eerie voices.
As I rounded a corner, I saw them—two faint, translucent figures standing at the edge of the deck, their forms barely discernible through the mist. They were dressed in old-fashioned clothes, the kind you might see in a history book. The figures seemed to be in deep conversation, their whispers carrying a sadness that sent shivers down my spine.
I stood frozen, unable to move or speak. One of the figures turned and looked directly at me, its eyes hollow and filled with an indescribable sorrow. I wanted to run, to scream, but my legs felt like they were made of lead. The figure raised a hand, as if beckoning me closer, but I couldn't bring myself to move.
Suddenly, the ferry's horn blared, a loud, jarring sound that shattered the silence. The figures vanished as if they had never been there, leaving me alone on the foggy deck. I stumbled back inside, my heart racing, and rushed back to the cabin, where I buried myself under the blankets, trembling.
The next morning, the fog had lifted, and the sun was shining brightly. The ferry docked, and we disembarked, the events of the night before feeling like a distant, surreal dream. I didn't tell my family about what I'd seen, unsure if they'd believe me or think it was just a figment of my overactive imagination.
Years later, I learned that the ferry we had taken was rumored to be haunted by the spirits of two lovers who had perished in a tragic accident decades ago. Some say they still wander the decks, searching for each other in the fog. To this day, I can't shake the memory of those sorrowful eyes and the chilling whispers that echoed through the night.

I've been summoned to jury duty for the first time, set for tomorrow morning at Hinds court. The letter I got for it says to call a number at the court office after 6 for an automated check-in message, but I've tried calling in three times now, and gotten the denied call tone every time. Do any of y'all know what the deal is with this thing?

What are all the changes going on? GM says we're gonna have a team meeting from all the changes that are being made next monday but refuses to elaborate more on it. Also, he said the meeting will be 3-4 hours long before we open, so we will be coming in at 5am and still have to work our normal scheduled shifts. No one else in any other stores know what's going on, and no other associates know either.

A little background: he has adhd, anxiety, depression, and has been to rehab twice. He has been hospitalized for suicidal ideation. I have put in so much time helping him advocate for himself, have psychiatrist, and therapy session so that he can get better. After rehab I have had a 0 tolerance for drugs and alcohol. I’ve always told him that if that’s the lifestyle that he wants to live, then he can leave and go do that. For my son,, his use all started with weed. A week ago he passes his 1st at home drug test, and this morning he fails. He was positive for weed again. He has asked that I allow him to continue to smoke weed, but outside the home. Im refusing to compromise on my beliefs and values. I watched him decline since high school, and weed was his primary drug of choice. he says that it helps his anxiety. my question was, well why are you on so many medications, why have you been hospitalized, why are you constantly complaining about not feeling okay. he also drives my spare car. I’m wondering how can you smoke weed away from home, but still be able to drive. That’s still driving under the influence, right? I told him that he’s a liability if he’s driving while high.
He also can’t keep a job, because his anxiety gets really bad when he starts working. I think it’s the weed that makes it worse. So, he doesn’t pay rent or any bills. He’s just an over grown child that just told me he likes being high. he thinks that I should compromise instead of telling him that he’s free to move out.

Hey, so like the title says, I am needing someone to help move my 5th wheel ASAP. My usual transportation is in the shop and we need to leave the friends place that we're staying at. The neighborhood is small and the parking can be tight but there is street sweeping on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings and we wanted go during the times that the streets will be more empty. Thanks for your help and please feel free to reach out for any questions.

Ever since fifth grade, I (15f) got heavily bullied by multiple people at my school. It was the typical locking me in broom closets or bathrooms stalls, spreading rumors about me, breaking and stealing my stuff hurting me physically and mentally and stuff like that. I don’t even know what I did for them to treat me like that, I am no different to them, at all, so I really don’t understand how I got targeted to easily by people.
Most of that bullying was from my own „friend group“. It sounds stupid, I know. I had a best friend and she met some other friends, and slipped into a group and since I didn’t have any other friends and had a hard time making friends in general, I also ended up in that friend group. I dont even know how it happened, but it started simple. They purposely excluded me from their conversations, made fun of me for everything I did or said and „accidentally“ breaking or stealing some of my books, pens, lunches and stuff like that. I know how stupid I sound for not doing anything, but I was very emotionally attached to my best friend, since she was the only friend I had and I thought it was all just a phase and would eventually pass. It didn’t pass though and it got worse and worse. It went on for years and my attendance was suffering a lot due to the tormenting and bullying they did. I cried every morning before school, begging my parents to let me stay home, to a point where I threw up every morning and even passed out a few times. If my parents didn’t let me stay home, I sometimes just didn’t go and just walked the streets of my town aimlessly.
Yes, both my parents and the teachers knew about the bullying, but as expected, no one did anything to help me. I was around 13 at that time and everything was basically miserable. Life at home sucked and life at school was even worse. I picked up some bad habits, including $h and seriously thought about just ending it all, since I really didn’t know what to do anymore.
One day, a boy added me on snapchat and I recognized his name from my school. I was confused, because no one normally added me on snapchat, because no one really liked me. I was curious to see what he wanted and added him back. He send me a snap and we started talking, and I was surprised to find out, that we had a LOT of similar interests. I also told him about the bullying and how my „friends“ were treating me and he even comforted me. We became really good friends and he eventually asked me out and we started dating. It honestly helped me a lot and even though we didn’t talk much at school, I did go a lot more and it was easier too.
I got a lot more confident and randomly decided to leave my old friend group, not talking to them at all. I did go to our usual hangout stop during lunch and when they talked to me, I didn’t say anything and ignored them. Of course that didnt stop the from hurting me both mentally and physically, but at least by not reacting to it, I took some of their fun out of it. It seemed better and I also felt a bit better. But of course that wouldnt last long. One day, at the beginning of the school day, I was sitting at my desk, just looking down, waiting for class to start, when I saw my boyfriend and two of his friends walk up to me. I thought he just wanted to say hello or something like that, so I smiled at him. To my surprise, he went up to me and started screaming at me. I was confused and didn’t really know what to say, just looking back at him, which only seemed to piss him off more. One of the friends grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my chair, while the other grabbed my bag, emptying it on the floor. For context, I am a rather short girl, around 5‘3, while he is a bigger, tall boy, 6‘1, who plays football and goes to the gym regularly. Both he and his friends are a year older than me, so the physical advantage for them is obviously. I couldn’t really do anything, but listen to him scream and looking at his friends step on my stuff. He told me to „stop pretending to be a victim“ „grow up“ „not act like just a cry baby“ and other insults and slurs. His friend eventually let go off me and I just ran out of the room, hiding in a bathroom stall, crying. I was confused and didn’t understand what was going on. This went on for days and one day while I was sitting at lunch alone, he came up to me and just sat next to me. He didn’t say anything for a while, just looking down at the table. He then turned to me and told me how my old friend group came up to him and told him, that I spread rumors about them and was now ignoring them for now reason.
Why would he believe that? He knew everything and he also knows what kind of people my old „friends“ are. It sounds stupid, but I forgave him and now everything is back to „normal“. Yeah, I lot a lot of trust in him, and I am even a little scared, but I still like him a lot. I just don’t know how I always end up getting treated like Sht from everyone around me. Surely if everyone is treating me like that, there has to be something wrong with me, because this happened multiple times without any connection to each other. I just dont know what to do, everything is miserable and I just dont know how to deal with all this.

The last two days I’ve received a bunch of emails from Vimeo saying my subscription is expiring on the 15th of March 2024 - I’ve already updated it. I’ll get 4 emails at once each day at about 4am in the morning. Is this a glitch? Or some sort of strange and specific spam email??

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

I (18f) just moved back home from college yesterday. My mom (59f) and my brother (18m) came to pick me up.
The problem started when my mom saw my room and what I was bringing home. I stored my winter clothes, bedding, utensils, allergy meds, and school supplies in a storage unit with friends to cut down the load for the ride home. Despite this, I had a lot of stuff. My mom was upset with the amount I still had. My brother barely put anything in storage, and they hadn't eaten yet, so I excused her reaction bc she was hangry and in pain. It was late when we got home, so I left most of my stuff in the car except to unpack the next morning.
I was up very late, about 3am, which my mom knew because I accidentally woke her up. I’ve had sleep issues since I was 11 and take meds for it, but I forgot to take them with all the moving around. I finally took them at 1am, and they took 2 hours to kick in. I woke up late, and my mom had made brunch. We often don’t eat together as a family, so I assumed it wasn’t a big deal if I ate later (mistake one) and played games for a bit instead (mistake two). Shortly after I woke up, my mom asked me to get the rest of my stuff out of the car and go to the pharmacy to pick up my meds. I didn’t see this as urgent (mistake 3), lost track of time bc I hadn’t taken my ADHD meds yet, and played for another 2 hours (mistake 4).
When I left my room to eat and shower, my mom was very angry, which was understandable given how long I’d made her wait unknowingly. I realized I had messed up and hadn’t been on the same page with her, so I asked her if she could tell me when she wanted things done by. I struggle with tasks that don’t have a set start and end time due to my ADHD, and I hadn’t realized she was waiting around for me. I thought she was resting, as she said she was in pain earlier, which usually means she’ll take pain meds that make her sleepy. She got really mad, saying she "shouldn’t have to tell me, I should just do it,” and started screaming. I wanted to solve the problem, so it wouldn’t happen again, but she rejected my idea and kept screaming. I started yelling back. Eventually, my brother joined in and told us both to knock it off, especially my mom. I agreed and told my mom, “you lived without us for months, you can do your own damn dishes.” That’s when she said to pack a bag and leave.
AITA? I know I messed up and was oblivious to my mom’s feelings, but I’m also hurt that when I tried finding a solution, she screamed at me. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but is kicking me out a reasonable response?
I’m staying at a friend’s house. I’m safe, but I can’t stand being in that house anymore. We go to family therapy but I’m really tired of trying to make things work with her. We’ve had fights like this, but this is the first time she’s kicked me out. AITA? What should I do?

So, I finished the rest of the 2.2 update this morning. I came on here because I wanted to see what people thought of Sunday and I'm confused why people are saying he may>! join the Stellaron Hunters?!< Is this confirmed? Did I miss something while playing lol? Or are people just speculating/hoping? I am confusion.

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?

I'm female , 18 y.o , In the summer of 2023 there was wild stress that I experienced due to entering the university and not only. . I wasn’t completely sure who it was, these thoughts have been around for a long time and I’m still not sure that I got into the right place. . but that's not the point. Strong pressure from my mother caused frequent breakdowns and I cried very often,
and then one day I had an attack of derealization, I simply fell out of the real world and did not understand who I was and what I was. . Then I heard and realized that there was a squeaking sound in the area of ​​my left ear, I thought it would go away after I slept. . however, in the morning I realized that everything had gotten worse, the noise was loud and, in addition, deafness had appeared in the left ear. .
I went to hospitals for treatment, but in the end nothing helped, and the doctors said that it cannot be treated and is now considered chronic. . They never explained to me why this is and how it is, they just mentioned that it was due to stress. .
but I would like to know exact information about this since the doctors sent me to different hospitals and in the end they didn’t really tell me anything except mentioning stressful situations. .
I was prescribed pills, but because of poisoning in my body I stopped taking them, but still they literally didn’t give me anything. . I don’t remember their names, because they were prescribed a lot and they all had to be taken almost simultaneously
I forgot to say that my head began to hurt more often than before, it was a rare case that I had a headache, but now more often. .

Went out with friends to 8th Street on Friday where we all received notifications at 7:29pm that unknown AirPod Pros were detected near us. Figured it was a glitch and went about our night, the device says it was last seen at 12:17am and I did not receive any notifications since. Cut to today (Sunday) at about 6:15pm I’ve received a notification that an unknown AirTag was found moving with me. The AirTag has been active since 11:36am this morning and traveled to the Newport Centre mall and back to my apartment complex, which I have not left during that time period. My friend also received the same notification but lives on the opposite side of Hoboken. Searched all belongings and haven’t found any AirTags. Anyone else experience this?
Do we think this is a glitch? Maybe connecting to a neighbors AirTag? How can one remove their location from an AirTag without physically having it?
Thanks!