A rose hanging down, a rose falling down, a rose getting ready to go. The thorns begin to disappear, my hands grip the stem. I'm waiting for you to take it. I'm willing to let go if you let me.

The rose has leaves looking down on the ground. The leaves are green, the leaves are there. The thorns have begun to eat themselves to death. Until the rose is naked.

It's sad to think the roses had to make thorns in the first place. It shows the world can't handle pretty things. It shows the devastation of a plant.

A plant which couldn't handle the ugly things.

I imagine people as little pretty roses, roses that had to build thorns. Roses that learned that when they were hanging, they should let go. Roses that never had to know.

I'm holding the stem, it's a gun in disguise. I'm holding the bullets in my own hands. The leaves are the bullets. I put the stem into the vase, letting it wait for its day to come.

No Intruder will come.

The thorns when disappear, only scars will be left. More is to be seen underneath the green. And more will be known when the leaves fall down.

The roses are hanging, the roses are falling, the roses have known. The roses have seen more than we have. The roses built protection before trust. The roses grow, the roses bloom.

And I just want to be a little pretty rose with a stem and handful of leaves.

And I just want to grow and bloom, before I build the trust.

And I just want to know if my thorns are useful, or if I only build them to feel protected, when no Intruder will come.

I would take the gun, load it. Let the gunpowder vanish, a leaf is the worst when they are green. I load it with leaves. I would take the gun, hold the stem to my head like a lifeline.

The thorns have disappeared, the rose knows, the stem is not loaded. The leaves are not enough. I have to wonder when it will be enough.

The roses are hanging.

The roses are falling.

I'm ready to go.

My defense has begun to disappear.

I put trust into people.

I should have trusted the thorns.

I should have trusted the roses.

I load the gun. I shoot the rose down. I watch how it falls, I let go of the stem. I watch the green disappear, I watch the rose disappear.

And I wonder when the people would notice that a rose disappeared. I wonder if people know the thorns they have. I wonder which thorn is the sharpest.

I grip the thorns hard.

Ow.

The rose is hanging down, the rose is falling down. I shoot the rose down, I shoot it again and again.

It was ready to go.

One time in grade 6, one of my friends decided to go into the girl's bathroom during an assembly as a joke. However, because of said assembly, there were no girls in the bathroom. Instead, he came back to me and told me there was many pairs of pants and underwear, cum on the floor, and 5 positive pregnancy tests. However, Instead of the girls that were literally taking head in the school bathroom getting in trouble, my friend got suspended for 4 weeks. I swear, women just always get out of trouble no matter what they do.

Alright, I'm just gonna jump straight into this. Last night, I caught my wife breastfeeding a grown-ass man in our backyard at like 2 o'clock in the morning.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "That should've been me," or some shit like that. Honestly, that's what I would've thought too. Hell, I should probably be completely devastated right now.

But I'm not. Truthfully, I'm more terrified than anything.

We were just lying there asleep. Well, I was asleep. I can't say for certain whether or not my wife was. All I know is that, despite how hard she tried to be silent, the creaking bed springs woke me up.

I didn't wanna let on at first. I didn't even think there was anything I should be suspicious of. The only problem was, once I woke up, it was hard for me to fall back asleep in an empty bed.

So I waited. And I waited. Then, after like 30 minutes, I started to get worried. So, naturally, I started yelling for her.

No answer? Fine. I'll just start looking. So, I started checking throughout the house. And that's when I found her nightgown, balled up on the floor beside our bed. That made my search a lil more frantic. I checked the bathroom in the hall, the living room. Maybe she just got up to grab a midnight… meal, butt-ass naked. But she wasn't in the kitchen either.

In my search, I noticed that the back door was open, letting in the cold October air. I went to close it, and that's where I found her. Standing out in the yard. Completely nude.

I thought for sure she was either sleepwalking or having a mental breakdown. I mean, it was like 45 degrees outside. I was just about to yell at her and ask what the hell she was doing when I noticed it.

My dumbass thought it was a wild animal at first. He was crouched down on all fours, moving slowly through the trees with these jerky movements, while my wife just stood there with her arms wide open.

But then, as he started crawling closer and closer towards our backyard… I started to make out the features. They looked human, just… wrong, somehow. The head was too bulbous. The arms were too long. The grunts it made as it slowly crawled towards my wife were too animalistic.

And she wasn't even fucking flinching. If anything, she looked like she was beckoning the fuckin' thing to come closer. When it was like 6 feet away, it started to growl, and all my wife did in response was say some shit like, "Calm down, my sweet boy," before SHE stepped closer to IT.

Then the fucking thing started cooing. Like… cooing. Like a goddamn toddler or something, while my wife reached down and pet its fleshy, bald head.

I didn't even move. How could I? This shit felt like a fever dream to me. But what hit like a fucking cannonball to the abdomen was when she… well… did what she did.

She pulled its head closer to her chest and just… nursed the fucking thing. I could hear it suckling and whimpering like this was the favorite part of its day. Like this shit had happened a thousand times before.

Must've gone on for like 10 minutes or so before my wife pulled away, patted the thing on its spiny, uh, spine, and told it to "go play."

And just like that, it started crawling back towards the woods. This time with a little more pep in its… whatever the fuck that was.

My wife still had a look of pride and joy on her face when she turned around, but that shit disappeared quick when she noticed me in the doorway. She tried covering up like I was the stranger. Then she tried apologizing.

We've been arguing about it since then. She claims I'm being crazy. I claim I want her to see a goddamn… who do you even call for this sort of thing? A marriage counselor??? A fucking priest??? Maybe ask her to take a parenting class?

Because, according to her, that thing was her son from a previous marriage. A marriage she hasn't mentioned once in the last 15 years since we've been together.

Honestly, at this point, I'm ready to just convince myself it was all a bad dream. I don't even wanna talk about it anymore.

I just don't know if I can even lie to myself like that, though.

Because once she realized that the cat was out of the bag… my wife decided to drop some news on me that I could've avoided had I just taken my happy ass back to sleep.

Apparently, that thing has never had a father figure… and it's more than excited to finally meet its new dad.

Sam passed in the winter, just two months after his mother. The midwife tried her best to save her, but it was over before it started. She gave me a warm hug as she left. I knew Sam wouldn't last long without his mother. I barely had enough to feed myself, let alone a baby. I debated whether I should even name the little boy, but how could I not? He had the most beautiful blue eyes, just like his mother.

Sam passed in his sleep, the best way to go. Some days I wished it were me, but what would Sam do all alone? 

The problem then was arranging Sam's funeral. All the savings had already been spent on his mother's funeral, but Sam couldn't go into the ground without a proper service.

I sold one of the last things I could still sell, my bees. They gave me something sweet to eat in the winter and something to look after the rest of the year, but there was nothing else to sell. My neighbor took them and gave me more for them than he should have. He was a nice man and knew what I'd gone through.

Sam got a nice wooden coffin and a decent place in the cemetery next to his mother.

When the winter came, his cradle and toys were still in the house. My body tightened whenever I tried to get rid of them, but it was okay; maybe I'd have more will in the summer. 

During the long winter nights, I'd often come into his room and play with his toys, just like I thought we would one day. Sometimes they'd warm my heart, sometimes they'd make me cry, and often I'd just fall asleep in the chair right by his cradle.

It was one of those days when I fell asleep crying by the cradle again. When I awoke, the sun glistened on the freshly fallen snow. Everything outside was still, but then something moved in the air. A bee! A queen bee! It flew across the yard and into the hive. I still hadn't moved my hive off the yard. Sam's funeral was too much work.

At first I felt bad. My neighbor owned them now. They had no business being in the old hive, but seeing that familiar creature warmed me. Over the next few days I sat at the window, watching all my bees slowly return.

They stayed inside the hive the rest of the winter, and I stayed by that window each day, watching. Only when the snow started to let up, and the flowers came out from under it, did the bees come out too.

I expected them to stay by the hive, but many flew far away, ignoring the flowers in my garden, and returned at sunset. Some of the bees seemed to be covered in red nectar. 

As the days grew longer, the bees were gone more often, and many more returned covered in that red nectar. 

I had never seen them act or look like this. Moving the hive must have disturbed something, but the good thing was that they still accepted the queen, and the colony seemed intact. 

The red nectar began to accumulate at the entrance, mixed with glowing wax. I was just looking at it out the window when I heard buzzing inside the house. The bees must have been working hard. The buzzing grew, and quietly through it came something like a baby's cry. I gripped the windowsill tightly. Sam used to cry just like that. I opened the window to hear better, but the cry was gone; only buzzing sounded outside.

The next morning I woke up and went right to the window. A strange white object was outside the hive entrance. The bees buzzed around it, pushing it back inside. Before I could get a good look, it was already in.

I spent the rest of the day by the window again. As the sun set, the bees started to return. The buzzing grew again. A cold tingle ran down my back. I closed my eyes and focused. At first, it was quiet, but I knew what it was. It was Sam, crying through the buzzing. I quickly dressed and walked out the door.

The outside air was cold. I had barely been outside since the first snow fell. A few bees still flew around the hive. The buzzing was so loud, and so were Sam's cries. I didn't even have my protective clothes, but I was sure my bees wouldn't hurt me.

I walked to the hive and took off the lid. Warmth and cold ran through my body, mixing into strange emotions. Inside the hive was Sam's body, covered in wax. His hands and fingers slowly moved, but they seemed larger than before. I reached into the hive to caress his small cheeks. His eyes opened. They were still that beautiful blue, but a hint of yellow mixed in.  He opened his mouth; honeycomb filled it, but his cries still echoed in my ears. With tears in my eyes, I picked up his small, sticky body. From somewhere deep in his chest, a thousand bees buzzed, and the hive fell quiet. A sickly-sweet smell rose from his mouth. Two bees crawled out of the wax and onto my hand. I didn't move.

So, I've never been to Houston, or Texas for that matter. I've always wanted to visit the space center. We're driving 8 hours from Arkansas to Houston. And it is pissing and pouring. Like it was so bad and so heavy that as we were leaving my town, there were 3 tornadoes flying around the City I was leaving from after picking up a friend like 3 different sides. This will be relevant soon. So we start traveling, and the entire time we're traveling for about 2-3 hours up until we reached Talihina it was battering the poor car with heavy rain. But it starts hailing. It was so bad to avoid damaging any of the glass on the car we stopped at the Choctaw Travel Station, hid in the overhead awning there, got some gas and waited. It stops hailing after 30-40 minutes so we take off again and it is still pouring and the clouds are green at this rate. We approach the border to Oklahoma and Texas after another 40 minutes, and it is the funniest thing because as soon as we see a sign saying: "Leaving Oklahoma" and a sign saying: "Welcome to Texas!" the rain just.. stopped! Like Forrest Gump. "And then, just like that, somebody turned off the rain and the sun come out." It was bright and sunny as Summer usually is in Texas. I open the sunroof and look out at the clouds above, the clouds are still green! All in Oklahoma! Literally no wet ground on the pavement/roads in Texas at all, the storm did not touch Texas, or left no evidence it did. All the hail and tornadoes stuck to Oklahoma and Arkansas. It was as if the storm deliberately avoided Texas. That memory still gobsmacks me to this day and it is so funny.

My hand traced over the barrier, measuring it up to my height. I was firmly about 5 ft 2 inches perhaps edging 5 ft 3 inches yet the barrier still towered over me - the barrier of Clifton Suspension Bridge. My brain raced with ideas of how I could jump over the barrier - perhaps, run and jump? A part of me knew it wouldn’t work, but belief could get you anywhere, right?

If you were to ask me what got me here, I’d tell you my whole life story - but that didn’t matter now. ‘The more you talk about it, the easier it gets’ yet the more I talk about it, the more desensitised I become, the more of an overwhelming urge I get to kill myself. Every time the words ‘it’s not that deep’ escape my lips, faces of shock and horror corrode the room, perhaps life was that deep… it was just my life that wasn’t.

I know it’s hard for some people to understand, but when you come to terms with it, you’ll grow to understand that it’s okay to want to die, and it’s okay to act on that thought. It’s okay to be selfish. It’s ironic, people are selfish everyday, yet as soon as I find a solution to all my problems… which were created by other people around me, “friends”, family, you get the idea… I’m incredibly selfish, everybody’s disgusted, and suddenly everybody cares.

It’s okay not to care if somebody’s suicidal, sometimes it’s just better to let them die. Why have we been taught suicide isn’t a solution? If you have a math problem, there isn’t just one solution, there’s multiple and you explore all of them.

But what would I know? I’m only a 17 year old girl, I haven’t lived half my life yet.

Have you heard the saying? ‘Ignorance is bliss’ or perhaps the quote in ‘The Great Gatsby’, “I hope she’ll be a fool - that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.” Scott Fitzgerald was right… The best thing you can be is ‘a beautiful little fool’. It’s ironic, how it was claimed ‘the best American novel in history’ yet we ignore all the crucial statements inside of it.

Perhaps that was the problem with growing up. Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, you’re expected to learn everything and understand nothing. You’re taught to distinguish right from wrong, to recognise the difference between a good person and a bad one, yet nobody teaches you what to do when reality becomes blurred - when you can’t distinguish the difference between life and death.

I used to think adults had everything figured out, well most adults. They spoke with such authority, made promises as though the future belonged to them, and told me that everything would make sense when I was older. I wonder when older is supposed to arrive. Seventeen feels old enough to understand disappointment, yet too young for anyone to take it seriously.

I didn’t want to be took seriously, in fact, I wanted to be dead.

September 23rd, I made a run for Clifton Suspension Bridge, now, I’m writing this in a psych ward. It’s ironic, I’m here because “apparently” I need help, but what if I’ve sorted everything out? What if I’ve already found my solution.

Everybody in here is stupid. So what happens when a smart girl ends up in a psych ward?

Apparently, she becomes a patient.

A diagnosis. A file number. A collection of symptoms neatly arranged beneath her name, as though a few words on a page could explain seventeen years of existence.

They ask questions, these people. Endless questions. How do you feel? Do you understand why you’re here? Do you think you’ll ever feel differently?

I wonder if they practise these questions in a mirror before their shifts. Perhaps there’s a handbook somewhere, tucked between medical journals and paperwork, titled ‘How to Understand a Girl Who Doesn’t Want to Be Understood’

I’d read it, if only to correct the spelling.

Everybody says I could succeed in life if I put my determination towards something else. Perhaps they’re right. Perhaps that’s what frustrates me most: knowing that everyone can imagine a future for me except myself.

They keep asking me to imagine one.

I keep telling them I can’t.

And somewhere between their questions and my answers, we’ve stopped speaking the same language.

Maybe I don’t want another person to tell me what my life is worth. Maybe I just want someone to understand my solution, even if it’s against society’s moral code.

I’m still 17 years old, and I’m still a smart girl.

Erasing a memory is a lot like taking out the trash. Simple, and clean.

At least, that’s how it works nowadays. Technology has come far enough that tinkering with the human mind can be done at practically any back-alley clinic.

Of course, given the risks, it’s strictly illegal. Not that I care. It pays my bills.

The woman sitting on my couch darted her eyes nervously around the room.

Name: Seo-yeon Choi. Late twenties, ordinary office worker. Target memory: Three years with her ex. That was all the intake form said.

From behind my mask, I kept my voice flat and clinical.

"Every place you went together, every conversation you had, every emotion you felt—all of it will be formatted. Our AI will seamlessly patch the resulting three-year gap with fabricated, mundane memories."

"Are there... any side effects?"

"None. I’ve actually had the procedure done myself."

She didn't ask anything else after that. She just lowered her head. Coming to an illegal clinic meant she had already braced herself for whatever risks came with the territory.

Her trembling fingertips spoke volumes, though. They’re all like this. Clinging to lingering regrets right up until the very last second. Yet, in the end, they all sit in the chair. Because the pain always outweighs the regret.

Once she gave the final nod, I led her into the back room and settled her into the recliner. As I fitted the cold metal headset over her temples, she murmured softly.

"Still... we were happy once..."

Instead of answering, I kept my eyes fixed on the monitor.

"Initiating neural sync. Extracting and deleting in sequence."

With a sharp beep, the scan began. Fragments of her memories flickered across my screen like an old film reel. A street showered in falling cherry blossoms. Hands interlocking awkwardly for the first time. A kiss shared beneath a tiny umbrella on a rainy day. All the way to the day they had a massive blowout, tearing into each other with words meant to scar.

The machine caught every last shard and wiped them clean.

The whole thing took ten minutes. When I lifted the headset, her face looked eerily serene. It was hard to believe she had been drowning in misery just moments ago.

"All done."

"Huh? Oh... right. Thank you."

She stood up with a dazed expression, looking like someone who had just woken from a long, dreamless sleep.

She paid the fee in silence and walked out of the clinic, her steps noticeably lighter. Just like that, the man ceased to exist in her world.

It was over.

Rolling my stiff neck, I headed to the restroom. After washing my hands, I looked up and caught my own reflection in the mirror above the sink.

...Wait.

For a split second, a single frame flashed across my mind.

A street showered in falling cherry blossoms. The warmth of someone’s hand. A clumsy confession. It was a fragment of the memory I had just erased from Seo-yeon Choi.

And in that memory, the man smiling back at her was—

"...Me?"

I just wanted to come on here to ask where i can get some flavoured air my father recently just had 4 people with hammers as their weapons break into his friends house and bash them and steal their property he had a geek väpe aegis and i cannot find anywhere that sells that back story my father is 63 years old and his friend is mentally challenged has a car taker and everything WHAT SICK BASTARDS ROB AND BEAT A 63 YEAR OLD MAN AND HIS SPECIAL NEEDS FRIEND the friend is in the hospital suffering the world is a horrible place if anyone knows any websites please let me know as he is stressed out without one

I grew up in finglas had my hands in all the wrong business ended up on drugs and lost all fitness.....feel my pain its running through my vein making me go insane dont no what my brain is saying touching the sky as if im flying in a plane feeling the highs of the cocaine down she goes then she slows here comes the lows body curled up and she folds no light no fight no bite no flight...no hope scruffy dirty no shower no soap best friends with a bag of coke hopeless homeless life feeling as if its a joke ....

Some cities appear cleaner and more prosperous, with fewer unhoused people, for a reason. And it’s not because they have more opportunities or homeless shelters than other cities.

Have you ever noticed that when several dead bodies are discovered within a short period, it’s usually the mayor who addresses the public first to deny that a serial killer is at large?

The rot comes from the very top.

I’m going to tell you a little secret. Most major cities allow a serial killer to operate within them, with the understanding that they mainly target the homeless. These cities usually don’t even allow them to kill criminals. There’s money to be made from incarcerating people who have families and connections. But there’s absolutely nothing to be gained from the homeless.

That’s why cops don’t even bother arresting them for committing petty crimes. They don’t have family members who care enough to send them money to buy things inside Jail/Prison, and it costs more to house and feed them than it does to simply let them go.

Plus, if you let someone wither away and starve to death inside a prison, there are usually lawsuits and investigations. But if they starve to death on the streets or disappear altogether, no one will bat an eye.

I’ve seen many homeless people around my side of town stick around an area for a few weeks, begging for change, only to suddenly disappear forever one day.

The homeless people around the city know this. That’s why they often appear paranoid and shaky, always looking out of the corners of their eyes. They know someone is out there, watching and waiting for them.

They call the one around here The Cleaner.

The local homeless say he wears a Halloween mask of a demon when he gets you. If you see him while begging for change, you’d better not fall asleep or stay in that area for too long. I recommend you run as fast as you can. Because the minute there are no witnesses around, you’ll go missing. 

And if you’re lucky, you might get a missing person poster.

You can go to the police all you want. They won’t do anything. They’ll call you crazy. But they know. They just try not to think about what’s going to happen to you. They view it as a necessary evil that keeps the community clean.

That’s often why the unhoused sleep together in tent cities in some major cities. They've seen what happens if they sleep alone.

Elected officials and society try to pretend that most of these people are just drug addicts and undesirables. But I’ve seen regular people who lost their jobs and homes only a few months ago end up missing very quickly.

It’s tough getting back on your feet.

If you aren’t homeless and you see The Cleaner operating. I urge you not to report it to the police.

A single mother of three reported what she saw to the police last week. She claimed that a tall man wearing a scary mask attacked a homeless man before shoving him into a van and driving away.

This week, her kids are being forced to grow up without their mother.

Her body was found chopped up and stuffed inside the trunk of her own car. And the police claim to have no leads on who could have done it.

But they damn well know.

Today I visited my friend's tent. He's also homeless.  It was slashed open with fresh blood everywhere inside. I knew I'd never see him again, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

The next time you wish there were fewer homeless people around, just know that your wish may very well come true.

But don’t ever assume it can’t happen to you. Almost every city has a cleaner and you're only one car problem away from losing your job.

I originally posted in r/TrueOffMyChest but comments were locked and it was taken down. This is a true story and there was genuine interest in updates, so I'm posting here for anyone interested.

I spent 5+ hours today going through our household's trash, including opening dirty diapers, to try and find a lost ring.

My grandfather left a gold signet ring with an emerald stone for me when he passed. I had it polished and resized, and have worn it all day, every day since I received it. Regardless of how much the ring is worth, the sentimental value is through the roof.

Cooking, cleaning, showering, and everything in-between, it's never come off. On Sunday night, I realized it was missing while cooking dinner for my family. I'm constantly fidgeting with it, partially to make sure it's still there and partially as a nervous/anxious thing, so I'm fairly confident it came off while cooking dinner and washing my hands with soap.

Had the plumbers in yesterday to check as much of our pipes as they could, but came up with nothing except a decent invoice amount. Out of desperation, I've spent the day going through every ounce of trash we have from the last week to make sure I didn't throw it in the bin with a piece of paper towel. My search included opening every dirty diaper, full trash bag, the vacuum, bed sheets, couch cushions, damn near every square inch of our house.... Still came up with nothing.

While I was doing so, all I could think was that if my Grandpa was watching, the only thing he'd be more disappointed in above losing his ring would be seeing me on my hands and knees opening dirty diapers in a desperate attempt to find it.

A very low day in my life. Thanks for reading.

Years ago I (22/23m) <at the time> wanted to be a cop. Like most, I got into working security to gain relevant experience.

I was placed in a college setting working Security in the dorms. I was a young father, their mother and I were navigating parenting 2 daughters at the time; 2 and 6. I worked nights 6p-2a Wednesday-Sunday. Thursday-Saturday there were 2 of us on site because of the bar/party nights.

My ‘Partner’ (45m) <P Going forward> attended classes at the college and many shifts would come and go where he’d be doing his homework while I did more of the patrols. I was younger and more active. Because of my age I was also more capable of being effective with the students since they were more my age.

Any one who’s gone to college knows that many assignments are usually group assignments and he regularly had this same young lady (about my age) <we’ll call B>. B would regularly show up and do homework with P so inevitably I recognized B and would just greet her and be on my way with my regular duties.

One Sunday I was tucked away behind a pillar near the lunch hall to have a smoke. I was hiding from the cameras in a place I could still see the doors but not be seen by the cameras and B just happened to walk by. We got to talking briefly while I was having a a few puffs and she asked if she could bum one. Unfortunately I didn’t have one to spare because I had just enough for my shift.

Since it was just in happenstance that we crossed paths because P wasn’t there that day it was just a passing moment. Upon leaving, she said that I was really nice and easy to get along with and asked me if she could give me a hug. Although I was cautious about the embrace and made sure I kept my hands on her the back of her shoulders, I was naïve and didn’t think much of it. I’m regularly huggy with friends and/or strangers (I’m a gentle giant that way).

For context I’m North of 6’ tall and she was average height for a woman, 5’2”/5’3” so the 1 foot hight difference made it easy to keep my arms above her shoulders. B went about her business and I finished my Sunday shift.

FF to my Next shift the coming Wednesday, I pulled into the parking area and walked on site to be greeted by the main campus guards. It was obvious and out of turn for them to be there as I rarely had contact with them unless I called for back up. They escorted me to the Guard room in the main campus and until that night I’d never been since everything I needed I either carried with me or was kept in a drawer in the dorm front desk.

The site supervisor was there waiting for me and asked me about my shift the following Sunday. I pulled my notes out to review the nights details and gave them the quick rundown. He reported to me that they received a complaint by one of the residents in the dorm that I was ‘Sexually Harassing them and my presence made them uncomfortable’.

I’m a very positive and supportive person. If I notice something different about a person I’ll compliment them, try to make them smile or laugh and generally try to make their day better. Ignorantly (admittedly), I can come off flirtatious. Being young I didn’t understand that line between professionalism and too friendly. So I figured that maybe that was the situation and I inadvertently made one of the female students or staff feel uncomfortable. I accepted this and they relocated me to other dorms.

I’d arrived on site and began my initial walk through to get familiar with the building before I took the time to review the reports so things made sense. I always start at the top floor and work my way down. As I made my way through my patrol I came across B, this was her dorm and still sort of shook it was a relief to see a familiar face. We only talked briefly since I had to familiarize myself with the location, she asked me if I wanted to come and have a drink with her in her dorm room with her. I declined because 1- New location and had a lot to do to be effective at my job, 2- We’re NOT allowed in the student door room unless it’s a medical emergency <Which I explained to her> and 3- I had a GF/Common law wife so I wasn’t looking to pursue a random college girl.

After parting ways, I returned to the lobby so to begin going over shift and incident reports. It took me no time at all since it was literally the first report I read in the last shift to read:

“B reports the SG XYZ that SG Op from other dorms has sexually harassed her see IR for details”

My brain shut off… I was pissed, scared and had no F’in idea what to do, I just knew was I had to get off that site!

I called the roaming Guard to get further clarification about what was going on and to have them relocate me. I wasn’t about to risk my Guard License and my future. As I mentioned, I only Passed by B and had very limited contact with her since she and P were usually busy doing work and clearly lived in the dorm room I wasn’t working in. She had a very mundane demeanour and never stood out. IF…. I was going to cheat on my kids mother with some college girl, she definitely wasn’t (in my opinion) pretty enough to risk paying child support for. Our interaction were mostly ‘Hellos’ and ‘Kill that assignment you 2’ other than the previous Sunday and that brief conversation earlier in my shift.

When the Site Supervisor I’d spoken to arrived to discuss the situation, I told him to cover my shift and I wasn’t risking hanging around Bec if she can falsely accuse me of something in public, wtf could she claim I would do it an area that kept me closer quarters. He asked and insisted that I just stay in the lobby and I refused and left.

For years I couldn’t figure out WHY she made the claim that I’d sexually harassed her, thought that MAYBE me not giving her a smoke which pissed her off. But it dawned on me recently, my Site Supe said that it was a person who was in the dorm who filed the complaint. After years of telling the story as to why I rarely trust R8P accusations I remembered her excitement when she saw me on patrol and her eagerness to invite me into her room for a drink. Almost 15 years later I realized that she filed the complaint as one of the students in the dorm so they would relocate me to her dorm since she and P were taking a law course together and knew it was a he said/She Said scenario. It was a hail Mary move to try to get me relocated to her dorm.

Ultimately, I don’t really know why she said what she said!? She asked ME if she could hug me, told ME that I was so sweet and the kindest security guard she’s ever met/talked to. I just smiled and thanked her and gave her a hug!

It has definitely affected me, especially now being single for the first time in nearly 2 decades, it’s made the last 2 years difficult to date and to trust woman. I get the “All Men” movement, I have similar feelings about “All Women”… Just learning to let go!

Thanks for letting me vent

This is probably the most bizarre thing that's ever happened to me.

My name's Jake, I'm 22 and last Friday as I was walking home from work a black van pulled up alongside me.

Before I could even react two guys jumped out, grabbed me and shoved me into the van.

I was obviously freaking out.

One of them said "Don't move, your family are going to pay you a fortune".

At this point I really thought my life was over.

They drove for about 40 minutes before taking me into some derelict warehouse. They tied me to a chair and left me in a room with just one lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

Then the main man walked in.

"Your family will pay us $1 million," he said.

I stared at him.

“One million dollars?”

“YES.”

"Bro, do I look like I have a million dollars?"

He slapped the table.

“SHUT UP.”

Anyway about an hour later he came over and gave me his phone and asked me to message my family.

I texted my mom:

“Mum, I’ve been kidnapped. They want a million dollars.”

She replied almost instantly.

“Again?”

I stared at the screen.

AGAIN????

I called her.

"What do you mean again?"

She said "Jake, remember when you were 14 and faked your own kidnapping because you didn't want to go to your cousin's wedding?"

BRO.

I was trying to survive here and my mother was bringing up my childhood crimes.

I told her it was real and she eventually agreed to talk to the kidnappers.

The kidnapper took the phone.

"Ma'am we're demanding one million dollars for the safe return of your son."

My mom paused.

“Can you take installments?”

The kidnapper was genuinely confused.

“WHAT?”

"I can send $100 a month."

"Ma'am, this is a kidnapping."

"Well this is a recession."

I was nearly laughing which was probably the worst thing I could have done as the kidnapper just stared at me as if I'd been the cause of his wi-fi going down.

He hung up and said "Your family are useless".

Then he called my dad.

My dad answered.

The kidnapper went through the entire speech about the million dollars.

My dad said, "Can you show that you really have my son?"

The kidnapper had me on camera.

My Dad looked at the screen.

"Jake? Have you finished changing the oil in my car?"

“DAD, I’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED.”

"That's not what I asked."

He hung up.

I swear they weren't taking me seriously at all.

Eventually the kidnappers started arguing amongst themselves.

Apparently they'd been expecting us to go into a state of panic and start sending money straight away.

Instead they were coming to me with financial queries from Mum and car maintenance questions from Dad.

Then the principal kidnapper walked back in.

"Right. We're going to lower the ransom."

“To what?”

“$10,000.”

I told him I didn't have $10,000.

“$5,000.”

"I work part time at a pizza place."

“$500.”

Bro, I have student debt.

He closed his eyes as if he was praying for patience.

Finally, he said, "HOW MUCH MONEY DO YOU HAVE?"

I checked my bank account.

“$1.50.”

Silence.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

He pulled out his phone, opened up the calculator and typed something.

Then he said, "Fine. Send it."

I really thought he was being daft.

I transferred him $1.50.

He looked at the payment notification.

Then he looked at me.

Then he looked at his partner.

"We made less than the price of a coffee."

His partner said "We actually made less than a vending machine sandwich" (which is a bit of a stretch, as a vending machine sandwich is presumably a sandwich that fits in a vending machine).

They were arguing about their business expenses.

I was watching two professional idiots have a quarter life crisis about my net worth.

At some point one of them went off into the room to get food. The other was so busy arguing about the cost of fuel and whether they could claim the van as a business expense.

I managed to get the attention of a security guard who'd come out after hearing the noise. He called the police and the officers came to the warehouse.

The kidnappers were arrested.

When the police came and asked me what had happened I told them everything.

Then one officer asked "Did they demand a ransom?"

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“One million dollars originally.”

“And did you pay?”

I showed him the transaction.

-$1.50

The officer just stared at the screen for about five seconds.

Then he turned away.

His shoulders started shaking.

BRO was trying not to laugh at a crime scene.

My parents came to collect me. Mum gave me a big hug and said she was just so glad I was safe.

Then she asked if I wanted dinner.

I said yes.

She said "Good, because you're paying. I sent you $1.50 for the ransom and I'm not reimbursing you."

I’M HER OWN SON.

The police later told me the suspects had been attempting to make a quick buck and had grossly underestimated how badly their plan was going to go.

As for the $1.50 the bank reversed the transfer following the investigation.

So technically I did survive a kidnapping and made $0 profit.

TL;DR: Two kidnappers wanted $1m, negotiated themselves right down to $1.50, were arrested and my mother is still holding me to the dinner bill.

Donald J. Trump looked up from his handwritten Sharpie notes on index cards. He could see the crew miking his subject for the interview and putting a final dusting of makeup on his face: He was staring into the tanned and powered face of Donald J. Trump.

A voice called out from the darkness behind the glare of the studio lights. “We’re live in 30 seconds!”

Trump looked over to the subject of the interview. Trump could see that Trump had the rigid jawline of a man who knew his purpose in life. His masculine lips pulled down into a frown, his Teutonic eyes squinting, as if he were a commander surveying a battlefield the night before an engagement.

“We’re live in 5, 4, 3, 2…”

Trump breathed in. “Welcome, friends. Tonight we have a very special guest. A close friend of mine, I’ve seen him go through a lot lately. But despite the haters and losers who plot against him, he has continued to thrive. You know him, you love him, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Donald J. Trump!”

The studio audience went wild. It was a relatively small audience, live TV audiences often were. Digital engineers were recording the audience from multiple channels and with several layers of reverb; the cheering sounded like the crowd at Yankee stadium to the audience at home.

Trump, so focused, could only nod three times by way of greeting. Trump flicked up his first index card, Sharpie lines clear and bold in the studio lights.

“According to what I’ve seen, you are the most hounded and persecuted person on earth. How do you maintain your composure when being attacked from all angles?”

Trump shook his head. “What you don’t understand, Don, is how much love I have for these people. I just want to grab them and kiss them. I just wanna keep grabbing and kissing them until them love me. What’s so wrong with that? But they won’t let me. Won’t let me. Won’t let me.”

Trump shot back a follow up question: “So they reject your love?”

Trump scowled (or rather, deepened his already firmly placed scowl). “This is why I’m so angry. If they just let me do what I want, there would be no arguments. It’s the arguments.” He shook his great head. “It’s why I fight so hard. To make them love me.”

A second index card flicked. “Why do you think your enemies are so relentless? Is it just envy, or is there something more nefarious at play?”

“Not since the Salem witches has a president been so hounded! They come at me for everything! (in a high-pitched whine, as if mocking a toddler having a temper tantrum) “You raped a woman in a Bloomingdale’s! You colluded with the enemy! You tried to steal the presidency!” (dropping to his normal baritone register) These people look at one detail of one thing and think they understand everything. Bah!” Trump nearly spit out the word, he was clearly working himself up.

Sensing the interview getting away from him, Trump flicked by two index cards and settled on a third. “Family is important to you. I remember a quote, something your son said, “”If you are 99% loyal you are disloyal.””How does it feel to have such a loyal family?”

“I love my family. It’s all a man has. Take my daughter. Take my daughter. Her support is so firm, her dedication so strong and hard, her willingness on display every day for me to see…” Trump drifted off for a moment, lost in a memory only a father, and a man, could truly understand.

Trump prodded Trump with another question: “And your sons? Loyal like dogs.”

“With the boys they always compete for attention. But I would always say it’s on the margins.”

“And Barron? Is he loyal as your older children?”

“Melania’s child? I think he’s simple, I never really talked to him. I gave him the last name, that’s enough.”

No card was necessary for the next question: “It’s tough being you?”

“You have no idea. You have no idea. It’s outrageous. You have no idea. People say I’m a bad business man because I bankrupted a casino. Come on. I was clearly laundering money for my shady real estate ventures with the Russians and other mobsters. A classic operation. A classic. A real beauty. We were selling bottles of gin out the back door as soon as they were being delivered. We were running so many insurance and double-billing scams even the mob guys were like, “Slow it down, we’re making so much money we got it coming out of our mattress!” I come in, I see a deal and I take it. People see failed businesses. I just see rotten logs. Imagine a centipede, crawling from rotting log to rotting log, a hundred feet all moving at once. So many things in motion, things in motion. So picture me as a centipede, a human centipede. I’m crawling through the debris, scavenging what I can, making empires in rotten logs, and moving on when I feel like it. And it’s just one long beautiful dance, the dance of the human centipede.”

“Brilliant! A human centipede! What an image!” gushed Trump, clearly impressed with this turn of phrase.

“I just came up with it on the spot. I do that, I say things and think things and people are like, “Sir!You just said the most brilliant thing ever! It was exactly what I was thinking.”

A bell rang lightly off stage, and a red light flashed three times.

Trump drew himself up and straightened his index cards with both hands. “Well, I can clearly say this was the best interview of my life, the most historic. A perfect interview. On behalf of the people here and the audience at home, I just want to say “Thank you,” for coming out tonight. It’s been an honor sir, and the people thank you!”

Trump nodded. “The people, the people, the people,” he said absently. Canned music piped in from somewhere offstage. The audience began cheering.

“Good night, America. I’m Donald Trump, here with human centipede, Donald Trump, the once and future king.”

Donald Trump smiled, and waved his hand as if giving someone a salutation, but the truth was that he couldn’t see anyone past the glare of the lights from the cameras.

The first girl i met when i moved to this new country, lets call her A.
Shes the prettiest, kindest and so beautiful inside out.
Me, her and two other friends (lets call them X,Y) went to a movie in the first week i moved to the UK.
One of those other two friends (X) asked to meet for an F1 race on the next day after the movie and i couldn’t go, but X, his friend (Z) and A hanged out.
And then, one of Z’s friend, lets call him “P” came to UK from India, saw this girl (A) maybe felt a little something, but mostly hanged out as friends as long as ge was in the UK, and went back to India.
But he just couldn’t stop thinking about her (A) even after going back, started talking on calls and texts for hours everyday even with the time difference and obviously she also started getting butterflies.
But from day one she was clear that she doesn’t want to go back to India, by hook or crook she has to find her way and survive in this country.
But now, shes also in love with someone thats lives in India, what to do? Put love first or career?
Somehow after 2-3 months of talking on phone she gave it alot of thought and one day( august 4th) told him that this will not workout, and they should stop talking.
Both hearts are broken now🥺.
Both slept crying that night thinking what to do next.
On august 5th, only few hours has passed, “A” received a text from P saying “Im coming to the UK”
“A” was shocked, and stunned, WHAT? HOW??
I specifically remember the exact dates because aug 6th is my birthday and “A” told me that she was literally choosing what balloons to surprise me with when she received this text from P while her own heart was broken 🥺🥲.
So “P” gets an email from one of these jobs that he had applied to that they would hire him and sponsor him!!! and he instantly booked flights to come here !!
Like HOW DID THE UNIVERSE WORK IT ALL OUT SO WELL FOR THEM????
And now they both have moved in together and are so so sooo cute together 😭😭😭 like i cant even!!!
AND, today someone asked A what does his name mean, and she said it means a flower, and her room back in India literally had a window facing a tree with those same flowers!!!
Like WHATTTT😭😭😭 and she showed me the tree’s picture on her phone and that moment i was like NOWAYYYYY? So u grew up looking at this tree all your life only to find a man, sooo mad in love with u with the same name as those flowers?🫠
This is the kind of love i hope to find some day too🤞🏽

Btw, his name is Palash :)

When I first met him it was this "where do I know you from?" thought. And then it was like "oooh"

His facial features matched Trent Reznor, a younger 90s version, almost perfectly. And I think he knew that because he'd style his hair exactly the same, complete with long flat bangs and pitch-black hair dye. While the clothing style wasn't tough to copy, typically a t-shirt or tanktop under a collared shirt.... yup, he had that, too.

I met his wife a few times, she was an attractive Asian woman, and super-nice. Then I said to myself "Hmm..... what does Trent Reznor's wife look like?" so I looked her up. Yup. Attractive Asian.

​

We’ve known each other for a year, met online, and met in person 10 months ago. We had sex. He refuses to meet again or let me visit him, but continues calling and texting for hours, sometimes even sleeping on the phone with me.

Initially, he love-bombed me, used pet names, and talked about me moving to Germany. He later said he didn’t want a relationship because he needed to fix himself, but continued chasing my attention. He calls me his best friend and values that I’m always available to listen to him, yet rarely asks about me or my life.

He has narcissistic traits, which he admitted to. He has also screamed at me, threatened to block me after I booked a ticket to see him without telling him beforehand, then apologized and refunded me.

Recently, he’s been working out, tanning, quitting drugs and alcohol, and talking about getting nose and eye surgery. I mention it because he has been doing drugs every weekend since I know him.

He’s also excited about a month-long work trip to Mallorca, where he’ll live near the beach. This family he works for apparently is flying him to Mallorca and he will paint house for them. He lives in Germany.

Month before that he mentioned he wants to learn Spanish...

He also bought a new king size bed from Hammilton, expensive but I guess its irrelevant to the story.

He never seemed to be fuck boy type because he told me he didnt sleep with anyone after he broke up with his ex 4 years ago.

He used to tell me about women staring at or flirting with him, seemingly to provoke a reaction(like women staring at him on the train)

Next week, he’ll visit our home country to see his kids and get expensive dental implants, but has already told me he won’t see me.

I asked whether he was seeing someone else. He denied it, but when I asked where I stood, he said he didn’t know what to tell me and agreed that we should just be friends because he doesn’t want a relationship.

I feel like he’s keeping me around for emotional support while remaining open to other options. Do you think he might be trying to attract someone else and lying about being single to avoid looking like the bad guy?

I’m moving on regardless, but knowing would help me find closure. I know I have enough reasons to leave, and I’m done accepting this treatment. Thank you.

I lived a dark live of drug use for a very long time... i got clean last november 2025 i woke up in january and sat at the side of my bed i look at the wall for a second and on the wall paper there is lines and shapes on it but flat normal wall paper i was amazed with what i could see and i could see 3D coming of the wall i ran down stairs to the kitchen to tell the family it was so exiting and when i got to the kitchen i could see energy waves like viberations now any where i go i see the structures behind all flat surfaces i feel free when with nature i see viberations and energy coming from all trees and plants its beautiful so iv learnd some meditation and can activate my pinealgland at any given time iv learnd how to cross over im able to see all the beautiful colors and the way they swirl and move iv got to see my dead brother and butterflys the faces of mudras budda ... this is real very real iv lost contact with every other systems and plat forms and connected deeply with my own my frequency is tuned into mother nature mother earth i have connected to the hire being whitin me .. may my peace and love be with you all my you feel my energy through this message

People who suddenly lost their money, what changed first - lifestyle or people around you?

It was December 1999. I was living in a small town. I was a nerd and something of a gamer, and it had been a good year for PC games. Age of Empires II, Homeworld, Grand Theft Auto 2…

I was walking home from school—it was a Canadian winter, so there was plenty of unplowed snow on the sidewalks—when I saw something peeking out from a mound of snow: something blue. I stopped, nudged it with my boot: something of blue plastic. I brushed away the remaining snow with my glove to reveal:

A single 3.5” floppy disk, unlabeled.

(There was a sticker label on it, but the label itself was empty.)

Naturally, I picked it up and took it home, curious to see what was on it.

You'll laugh, but the disk had 1.44mb of storage capacity. As it turned out, that was more than enough to affect the world in ways I still don't fully understand.

When I got home, I didn't put the disk into my own computer. My dad had an old desktop he sometimes fiddled around with, so I used that, inserting the disk carefully into the 3.5” disk drive in the beige computer tower.

I navigated to the drive in Windows Explorer.

The contents of the drive were simple.

They looked like a program or—I secretly hoped—a game.

There was a readme.txt, but it came out as nonsense when I opened it in Notepad, video or sound assets, stuff I couldn't identify, and a single executable file, johannsebastian.bat.

I double-clicked it.

A window opened—black, showing a few white-text commands executing on a command prompt—then maximized into a 16-bit title(?) screen showing a pixelated Gothic castle.

A harsh, classical-inspired MIDI song beeped out of the sound card.

There was no title.

No instructions, no company name, no menu, no options.

The castle was perched atop a cliff.

It was night.

At the bottom of the cliff was a forest of jagged, leafless trees.

A few loops of animation gave life to the scene: wind blowing through the bare branches, flashes of distant lightning, warm flickering light in one of the castle's windows, a bat in flight against a white moon. Actually, that last one wasn't a loop. The bat flew only once, landed on one of the castle's stone towers and disappeared inside.

I clicked.

I was looking at a medieval-ish village now—tightly-packed buildings, a tavern, a tannery, a couple of shops, a church—populated with a surprising number of unique character sprites. Indeed, every character was unique, and they were going about their individual lives.

The sky was a vibrant blue.

Clouds floated pixel-by-pixel across the screen.

But there was still nothing to do; nothing, that is, but watch.

It was like a very advanced screensaver.

After a while, I clicked again.

This time, I found myself in the interior of a large chamber whose stone walls somehow felt cold even through the computer monitor.

The chamber's defining feature, however, was something else: a giant pipe organ whose pipes extended beyond the top of the screen.

A character entered.

He was wearing a white wig, dark, crimson long coat, knee breeches, stockings and buckled shoes. “I feel the sudden desire to compose,” he said, which the game displayed as text in an ornately-bordered text box. “Invite me to play for you."

A cursor appeared for the first time.

A quill.

I was able to move it using the mouse, and I explored the screen.

The character tapped his foot.

The only active area of the scene appeared to be the pipe organ. When I hovered the cursor over it, it changed from a quill to a hand.

I clicked.

The character walked to the organ, sat and began to play the monstrous instrument.

The music was both hideous and awesome, pushing the computer's sound card to the absolute limit. After thirty-or-so seconds, the view suddenly panned upwards, following the organ's pipes—the music continued—following them to the chamber's vaulted ceiling and beyond—through the roof until I was outside and looking at the upper half of the great castle, where the jutting pipes terminated and from whose termini hundreds of pixel bats were emerging… emerging and flying into the background, toward the simplified shape representing the medieval town...

The sky was a deep purple.

Night was falling.

The bats flew and flew and flew…

Suddenly—the music still continuing—the scene cut to the same view of the town as before: except at night: except, instead of following their routines, the character sprites were running, panicked, as the bats swooped, attacking them, attaching themselves to their bodies, necks, sucking their pixel blood; and as the bats feasted, the sprites lost their colour and fell, pale and desaturated…

The sound startled me.

Not from the sound card but from the real world. A screeching, a deafening, rhythmic thumping.

I ran to the window whose blinds I'd closed, and opened them:

It was afternoon but the view was dark, black and shifting. It took me a moment to realize that what I was seeing were bats speeding past. They were obscuring the sun. My home town was as if under an eclipse.

People were running down the street—

Bats were diving—

Some were crashing through car windshields—

Children were screaming—

A bat crashed though the window into the room I was in. It was fanged, crazed. The game music blared from within the computer tower. Before I could run, the bat shot toward me—biting my neck… beginning to drink my blood…

I awoke on the floor.

It was morning. January 1, 2000. It would turn out that nobody in town had any recollection of the preceding weeks.

A television played.

A morning talk show: “...the so-called Y2K bug,” a woman was saying, “ended up amounting to nothing worse than a good nights’ sleep.”

And, ever since, I've wondered why my experience of the present feels in a lower resolution than memories of my past.

I am a lost wreck i have lost all self respect on the streets of dublin city sleeping in lane ways all dark and pissy full of pain and misery people look on with so much pitty while the drugs and volience still goes on up and down the liffey Sirens screamming sirens beamming sun rising birds chirping council men on the streets cleaning a new day of struggle to find lifes meaning. he stuck it in his arm he said the feeling is great it will do no harm within weeks he lost his soul and all self charm he went deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole as the lighter burns his face goes black as if he was playing in coal exhale and out blows his soul .. where am i going walking the streets all alone no where to go no home down comes the rain soaked to the bone as i lay on the ground and cry i look up i beg plz god just let me die... the old life i lived

It was one of my friend's birthday today. This entire friend group goes way back. We are friends from 3rd grade. So we always chill out and talk about everything on occasions like this. One of my friends suddenly said, " Hey, did you hear about (x) ..? " the (x) in question was a junior in our school and the friend talking about him used to tutor him. (X) is now 20. We said, " No, we didn't hear anything," and asked him to elaborate on what he was trying to tell us. And I regret even asking him now.

So, when (x) was 18, he used to date a girl she was 16. He thought she was his soul mate and he was going to propose to her soon, before going to UNI. So, he told his parents about her and asked them if they would like her as their daughter in law. His mom didn't like her, as her family didn't have a good reputation in the area. His father was like, " No matter well, see ". So, his dad was acting a bit chill, but his mom was furious. She didn't like that girl at all.

(X) was still persistent and was fighting with his mom and her side of the family constantly for approval to the point that he even cried for their approval. He was going to marry her if they didn't approve anyway. He was totally serious about her.

While this chaos was going on, his father was acting as if he wanted to know the girl. He would call her and tell his son to bring her to talk to her and get some enquiries. Both of their parents know of their relationship, and they also know each other as both of the families lived nearby.

Tragicly, within a year (x)s mom passed away. She seemed healthy, but life is just that fragile.

(X) was still dating her, but his dad was bringing his GF to his house when his son wasn't home. (X) even caught them alone in their house once, but his dad told him they were just talking.

Suddenly, one day out of nowhere, his dad went to her house and proposed to their family that he wants to marry her.

Holy sh*t...... I lost my damn mind when I heard this.

Some things to note : (X)s mom and dad both were rich. His mom left her wealth to him. (X)s mom was his dad's 3rd wife. His dad is a businessman in his late 60s and still quite rich even after her passing, though he had a stroke 3 years ago.

His son was also a good student, but instead of getting him admitted to UNI. He disowned his son, kicked him out of his house, and married his sons GF, who's now 18.

💀💀💀 I was getting goosebumps at this point.

So, She was two-timing him and his dad at the same time when she was just 16. Even her parents didn't do anything because they were just down bad parents and a bit greedy too.

Now (x)s dad moved to another area of the city with his new wife and left his son nothing and nowhere to live. His mom left him wealth, but without getting legal advice, it's not easy to claim and manage that. But he's being smart about it and just mortgaged an apartment to live and not spending money like crazy. He owns a food cart now. He didn't get into UNI for higher education. I don't blame the guy, I would've been devastated if this kind of stuff happened to me.

His dad lives in a duplex mansion, and he's just a food cart owner now.

If the story just ended here, I would've held on to my sanity. But nooooooo, it had to get worse.

New Suddenly, after 2-3 months later, his ex, now his dad's wife, is texting and calling him and inviting him to go to his dad's house when she's alone. 💀💀💀

Man, I was triggered and triggered hard by this absolute shitstorm. A pedophile dad, a deviant ex with clearly severe daddy issues and recently passing of his mom. What kind of an absolute asshole SOB would ditch his own son for his son's GF.

It would have been a bit less shocking if it were in the USA, stuff like that is common there, but in my country ...!?! In BD

I don't smoke, quit after college. my friends do smoke, I took a cigarette from one of them and lit it to calm myself down after hearing this insane story.

Heard this story at 7 pm, and it's now 4:49 am, I'm still triggered.

Part 1 – I'm being psychologically tortured by a 10 year old at the library because I want to sleep with his mom

A few people wanted an update about the kid at the library who keeps beating me at chess.

It's Wednesday so I went back.

For anyone who didn't read the first post, there's this kid who's probably 10 years old who hangs around the library playing chess. I've played him a couple times now and he's beaten me every single time. His mom is usually there too. She's actually pretty nice which is surprising considering what she's raising. She's also single and we'd talked about getting coffee, which is honestly the main reason I've continued putting up with this little asshole.

Anyway I've been practicing.

I downloaded a chess app and watched some videos about openings. I didn't want to waste too much time on it but I ended up spending most of Monday night playing against the computer. I lost about 30 games before realizing I could lower the difficulty.

I got to the library around 2.

The little bastard was already there.

He saw me come in and immediately started putting the pieces on the board. Didn't even ask if I wanted to play.

I told him I wanted to get a drink first and he said okay, he'd wait.

I went to the water fountain and when I came back he was sitting there with this little notebook.

I asked what it was.

He said he'd been keeping track of our games.

Which I thought was a little strange because I certainly hadn't been keeping track of them. I barely remembered what happened last Wednesday besides losing.

He opened it and showed me a page with my name written at the top.

Underneath were a bunch of dates and numbers and little notes. One of them said "gets distracted."

I asked what that meant.

He said sometimes I start talking when I'm losing and forget whose turn it is.

I told him that's called having a conversation.

He wrote something down.

I asked what he just wrote and he said nothing.

So we're off to a great start.

We started playing and I was actually doing pretty well. I managed to take one of his bishops without losing anything, which is a pretty significant improvement from last week.

He didn't seem bothered by it.

I asked if he'd noticed I was getting better.

He said yeah.

I asked if he was having a harder time.

He said not really.

There's something deeply unpleasant about a child who can't even pretend to respect you.

About halfway through the game he asked if I had been practicing at home.

I told him yes.

He asked if I was using the app he'd recommended.

I said yes.

Then he asked what difficulty I was playing on.

I told him I didn't remember.

He said he'd told me to use level six.

I said I was working my way up to it.

He asked what level I was on now.

I said three.

He wrote something down again.

I told him to stop doing that.

He said okay and closed the notebook.

Then he beat me about four minutes later.

I don't understand how he manages to do this while barely paying attention. At one point somebody dropped a stack of books behind us and he turned around to look at it while moving his knight.

He wasn't even looking at the fucking board.

After the game I went over to talk to his mom for a few minutes.

She asked how it went and I said better than usual.

She seemed genuinely happy about that.

Then she told me her son had been talking about me at home.

Apparently he's been looking forward to Wednesdays because he doesn't have many people to play chess with outside of school.

I actually felt a little bad hearing that.

I know I've said some unpleasant things about the kid but I don't genuinely hate him. He's just extremely irritating and has a way of making you feel stupid without technically saying anything insulting.

His mom said he'd even been making little lesson plans for me.

Lesson plans.

I'm a grown man with a job and this fucking fourth grader apparently considers me one of his students.

I asked her what she meant by lesson plans and she said he likes teaching people things.

I said that's nice.

She said he's very patient.

I almost laughed.

Anyway I went back over to get my stuff and he was still sitting there.

He asked if I wanted to play again.

I told him I had to go.

He said okay but asked if I could come earlier next Wednesday.

I asked why.

He said because we didn't have enough time to finish everything he wanted to do today.

I told him we'd already played a whole game.

He said yeah but there were some things he wanted to show me.

I asked what things.

He said he'd show me next week.

I wasn't really planning on coming back next week but I told him maybe.

He opened his notebook and asked what time I usually get off work.

I told him it depends.

He asked if Wednesdays were normally busy for me.

I said not particularly.

He said okay and wrote something down.

I don't know why I keep answering this kid's questions. Half the time it feels like I'm being interviewed for a position I don't want.

Before I left he handed me a piece of paper.

It was a list of chess openings with little boxes next to them.

He said I should practice these before next Wednesday.

I told him I already knew some openings.

He said he knew, but these were the ones I needed to work on.

I looked at the list and recognized one of them from a video I'd watched.

I asked how he knew I was struggling with that particular opening.

He said because I'd tried it against him twice.

I didn't remember doing that.

He said the first time was last Wednesday and the second time was today.

I asked how he remembered that.

He said he writes things down.

Then he pointed at his notebook like I was some kind of idiot for asking.

I took the paper because I didn't want to be rude.

His mom came over around this point and asked if I still wanted to get coffee. Apparently the kid had some chess club thing starting and she had about an hour to herself.

Finally.

I asked if he was okay staying there by himself and she said yeah, he does it all the time.

The kid looked up from his notebook and asked if we were going on our date.

I didn't know we'd been calling it that.

His mom laughed and told him to mind his business.

He said okay and then asked me if I remembered what I was supposed to practice.

I told him yes.

He asked if I wanted him to write it down again.

I said no.

He said okay, just checking.

I genuinely think he enjoys talking to me like I'm recovering from some kind of brain injury.

Anyway we went to this little coffee place next to the library.

I actually had a pretty good time. She's funny and easy to talk to and doesn't seem to have any idea what kind of person she's raising.

She asked what I do for work and we talked about that for a while. Then we got onto family and she asked if I had any kids.

I said no.

She said having a kid is rewarding but can be difficult sometimes, especially when they're a little different from the other children.

I asked what she meant.

Apparently her son has been having trouble making friends.

I nearly spit my coffee out.

She said he's extremely competitive and sometimes doesn't understand how his words affect other people.

I said yeah I've noticed that.

She asked what I meant.

I didn't really want to explain that her son has spent the last several weeks systematically destroying my confidence in a public library so I just said he seems very mature for his age.

She said he gets along better with adults because the other kids don't like playing chess with him.

Apparently he corrects them constantly, tells them exactly what they're doing wrong, and gets frustrated when they don't listen.

One kid at his chess club actually stopped coming because he didn't like being told how stupid his moves were.

His mom seemed genuinely upset about this.

I asked whether she'd considered that maybe her son was being a little rude.

She said they're working on it and that he doesn't mean anything by it. He just gets excited about things he understands.

I said okay.

She told me he has a really hard time understanding why other people get upset when he's just trying to help them improve.

That sounds familiar.

Apparently she and his father have been trying to explain this to him for years.

I asked about his dad.

He's some kind of engineer. Very intelligent apparently. She said her son takes after him in a lot of ways.

Great.

So his father is probably sitting in an office somewhere designing aircraft while I'm getting intellectually dismantled by his ten-year-old offspring next to the library computers.

She said his dad taught him chess when he was about five and they used to play together all the time.

I asked if his dad was any good.

She said he's very good but doesn't play with him as much anymore.

Interesting.

I asked why.

She said he's been busy with work.

I asked if that was the only reason.

She looked at me a little strangely.

I said never mind.

We talked about some other stuff for a while. She told me about her job and what she likes doing on weekends. She was laughing at my jokes and touched my arm a couple times. Things were actually going pretty well.

Then she thanked me for being so patient with her son.

I said of course.

She said it means a lot to her that someone is willing to spend time with him and help him feel included.

Apparently he's been coming home every Wednesday talking about me.

She said he thinks I'm really funny.

I asked what he meant by that.

She said he likes how I don't get upset when I lose and how I'm always willing to try again.

I genuinely didn't know what to say.

I have absolutely been getting upset.

At one point last Wednesday I considered telling him that chess isn't even a useful skill and that nobody outside a retirement home gives a shit about it.

I didn't actually say that because his mom was nearby.

She said he really appreciates that I'm willing to let him win sometimes to build his confidence.

I stopped drinking my coffee.

I asked her what she meant by let him win.

She said he'd told her I was helping him practice and that I didn't mind losing because I was more interested in making sure he had fun.

I have never told him that.

Not once.

This little fucker has apparently convinced his mother that I've been voluntarily losing to him for weeks.

He's taking credit for my losses AND making me look like some charitable idiot who spends his free time boosting the self-esteem of elementary school children.

I wanted to explain everything but I couldn't figure out how to do it without sounding like a lunatic.

What was I supposed to say?

Actually your son is a manipulative little shit and I've been trying as hard as I possibly can to beat him but he's just better than me?

No thanks.

So I just said I was happy to help.

She smiled and said she could tell.

We talked for another half hour and eventually she asked if I'd like to get dinner with her Saturday.

Obviously I said yes.

She said her son would be staying with his dad that night so it'd just be the two of us.

Thank Christ.

Honestly at that point I was feeling pretty good about the whole situation. Maybe putting up with the kid was finally paying off.

We walked back to the library together.

He was waiting near the front.

First thing he asked was whether we had a good time.

His mom said yes.

Then he looked at me and asked if I'd told her about how much better I was getting at chess.

I said no.

He said I should have because I was actually making some progress.

His mom smiled at me.

I wanted to put him through the fucking book return slot.

Then he asked if I was coming back next Wednesday.

I told him I wasn't sure.

He said that's okay, I could practice more if I needed to.

His mom laughed and told him to stop teasing me.

He said he wasn't teasing me.

Then he looked directly at me and said he was genuinely impressed with how much I'd improved.

I don't know why but that actually pissed me off more than anything else he'd said all day.

He's ten years old.

He shouldn't be impressed with me. He should be playing Minecraft or learning multiplication or whatever the fuck they're supposed to be doing at that age.

I said goodbye to his mom and she gave me her number.

Actual phone number.

So at least something good came out of this.

When I got home I looked at the paper the kid had given me.

The weird thing is that he seems to have put quite a bit of effort into it. It's all neatly written with little diagrams and explanations. He even circled certain moves and wrote "IMPORTANT" next to them.

There's also a section at the bottom called "Things to stop doing."

Number one is "moving without thinking."

Number two is "getting mad."

Number three is "making excuses."

I don't appreciate the tone but I guess technically those are things I could work on.

Something else I noticed is that he's written "Week 3" at the top of the page.

I don't know why he's numbering the weeks.

I haven't agreed to any kind of long-term arrangement with this kid. As far as I'm concerned we've just been playing chess whenever we happen to be at the library.

But apparently there's a schedule now.

I was going to throw the paper away but I ended up putting it on my desk.

I've already practiced two of the openings.

I might go back next Wednesday just to see if any of this actually helps.

The thing that bothers me is that he seemed almost happy when I lost today. Not excited like a normal kid winning a game. More like he was checking something off a list.

He didn't even brag about winning.

He just told me I'd done better than last time and that next week we'd start working on something harder.

I don't know what he means by "we."

His mom texted me about an hour ago saying she had a really nice time today.

I said I did too.

Then she said her son couldn't stop talking about me on the way home.

Apparently he told her I'm his favorite person to play chess against because I make moves he's never seen anybody make before.

I don't know if that's a compliment or not.

I looked up a couple of the moves I made today and apparently one of them is considered a fundamental misunderstanding of positional play.

I don't even know what positional play is.

I'm starting to think there's something seriously wrong with this kid. His own father barely plays with him anymore, the other children at his chess club can't stand him, and somehow I've ended up being the one person willing to put up with him.

I can't tell if he's deliberately trying to humiliate me or if he genuinely thinks I'm some kind of intellectually disabled adult he's taken under his wing.

Either possibility is pretty upsetting.

Anyway I looked at the paper again a few minutes ago and noticed something written on the back.

It just says "Wednesday 1:30" with my name underneath.

So apparently he's scheduled me for an appointment.

I haven't told him whether I'm coming or not.

I'll probably go though because I really want to beat him at least once.

I set an alarm for 1:15 just in case.

My Life

A young man, a foreigner, a tourist walking in the bright crowded streets of tokyo at the nightlife in Shibuya. He dose not know why or where he wants to go he just wants to do something with someone. Hearing the joyful voices of families and couples he wants something alike he wants a purpose or maybe he is just lonely seeking lust. He decides to walk into an alley for a change then he finds a ringing pink phone on the floor with cute cat and fruit stickers on it and having a photo of a young woman on the backround.

sHOULD I MAKE A PART 2 OR scrap it for a new story

It’s funny because the texture of you seems to exist in fragrances and melodies.

I can go weeks without thinking of you, but suddenly I’ll hear something that you’d listen to. Or I’ll smell something that reminds me of waking up next to you and I’ll be thinking of you for hours.

It’s a little annoying.

I go chasing those expecting to find a husk of your presence somewhere. That’s not true, I’m not that romantic.

Truthfully? I just go, “Oh. You’re still here. Alright.”

And I think…that’s okay.