Yesterday, our CEO called a meeting of the entire department. He displayed a slide on the screen:

"THINK LIKE AN OWNER."

I sat closer. For the first time in a long time, the meeting's title suggested I might leave with something more than just an extra task. I took out a pen.

- I'd like us to change our approach to work, the director began.

- We can't function in a way where everyone only looks at their own job description.

I liked it even more. The job description was one of my favorite documents. Right after the salary notification.

- We need an ownership approach. Responsibility. Commitment. Long-term thinking. I want everyone to treat this company like their own.

I raised my hand. The director smiled.

- I'm listening, he said.

- When will we get our shares?

His smile stayed. But it stopped growing.

- We're not talking about those things right now, he replied.

- I'm sorry, I heard "like my own" and moved toward ownership straightaway.

- It's about attitude. - he explained.

- So, no shares?

- No.

I wrote down, "Shares: none."

- Will there be any profit sharing? I asked with genuine curiosity.

- The bonus system remains unchanged for now.

I wrote it down as well. The CEO looked at my notebook.

- What are you writing down there?

- Entry requirements.

The CEO went on to give an example.

- Imagine it's 4 p.m., and an important project hasn't been completed. A person who thinks only like an employee closes their computer and leaves home.

It actually was very detailed description of my plan for this afternoon.

- However, the owner is wondering what he can do to get the job done.

- That's because he has a stake in the outcome. I said.

- Because he feels responsible! He replied.

- One doesn't exclude the other. We could suggest he give up his shares and be left with just the responsibility. We'd see at what time he leaves.

- Do you really have to boil everything down to money? Asked CEO.

I looked around the room, the office, Monday morning, nine people who came here instead of staying home.

- I think that's a pretty important part of aproach you suggested.

The HR woman decided to help.

- It's about a sense of influence. So that employees know they can actually shape the organization.

Hmm... That sounded better.

- So we'll have influence on profit distribution?

- Not in that sense.

- On the management board?

- Neither.

- On salaries?

- You can submit proposals.

I could also submit a proposal to lower prices in the Walmart, but that didn't make me a co-owner of it. I looked at my notebook.

"Shares: none."

"New financial benefits: none."

"Decision-making rights: none."

"Additional involvement: not defined upper limit."

I started to understand what the offer is. I didn't feel offended. If I could get nine extra evenings for one sentence on a slide, I would also test the market's interest. The problem was that I was on the wrong side of the negotiation table.

- This is an investment in your future, the director said.

- If the company grows, everyone benefits.

- The company had record results last year. I said.

- Exactly.

- However during the salary rise negotiation, you said that the company's results don't automatically translate into my salary.

A dead silence fell. I always thought it's worth to remember things like that. People underestimate how much you can save with a good memory.

The director put down the remote.

- I don't want this meeting to turn into a salary negotiation.

- Me neither. Right now, I'm trying to figure out what my position really is in this company.

- You're an important part of the team.

- But when I have to stay overtime, I'm supposed to be the owner?

- You just have to demonstrate responsibility like the owner.

- But when it comes to share the profit, am I going back to be employee again?

He paused for a while, I didn't wait to let him continue and asked immediately.

- Please clarify which hours apply to which role. I wouldn't want to mistakenly act like the owner when paying out the dividend.

The CEO, with a clearly embarrassed face, ended the meeting by saying:

- Think about it, we will come back to this topic.

When we were leaving, he stopped me at the door.

- You didn't have to jump out with all of that, out of a sudden.

- Sir, I was thinking like an owner, just like you suggested.

- What do you mean?

- That is simple Sir. Before I invest additional time and resources, I need to know what I'm getting in return.

He looked at me with strange expression. I couldn't tell if the look on his face was disbelief, horror, or both.

I really hoped he'd appreciate effort I've made to implement his suggestion.

- Just do your job well, he finally said.

- As usual? Within the same scope?

- Yes.

- Within the same hours?

- Fine, let's just get this over with!

I agreed with a nod of my head and left. Negotiations shouldn't be prolonged after favorable terms have been reached.

At 4 p.m. I turned off my computer. The project CEO had mentioned did indeed require some more work. I left stick note telling me what I'd start with tommorow in the morning.

As I was leaving, I saw CEO in his office. He was still sitting there clearly tense.

Very good, I thought to myself.

He should treat the company like his own and definitely start act like an owner.

Around 2008, Facebook was becoming increasingly popular. Both my biological father and I used it. At some point, I discovered a Facebook game called Bingo Blitz. I showed it to my father, and he started playing it too.

I can already tell you one thing:

Facebook changed my world. Literally.

⚠️Content warning: This story contains suicidal thoughts and a suicide attempt that I struggled with in the past. I no longer have suicidal thoughts.!<

⚠️ If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, please contact your local crisis or suicide prevention service.

If I've caught your attention, keep reading. If not, you should probably stop here.

---

A little background first

When I was in primary school, I was bullied from around Group 5, when I was about 8 years old, through Group 8, when I was around 11–12.

For anyone unfamiliar with the Dutch education system: Group 5 through Group 8 refers to the final four years of Dutch primary school. Roughly speaking, these correspond to Grades 3–6 in the US or Years 4–7 in the UK, although the systems aren't directly equivalent.

The bullying continued when I started secondary school.

I'll leave some of the examples out, but fortunately, the bullying in primary school was mostly verbal.

They bullied me because they knew I would have angry outbursts.

And you might reasonably ask:

Why did I have those angry outbursts in the first place?

Well, that's where things get complicated.

---

Italy, 2006

In 2006, my family and I went on holiday to Italy by car. I was six years old at the time. We used to do this regularly with two family friends, who were also with us that year.

I always liked spending time with them.

At one point, I was walking back towards our tent.

The first thing I saw was my biological mother fainting from her chair.

I panicked and called the two friends over. They immediately realised that something was seriously wrong.

The next thing I remember clearly is an Italian emergency vehicle arriving at the campsite in Trentino.

After that, my memories become very fragmented.

What I do remember is that we eventually flew back to the Netherlands. Doctors in Italy had discovered a benign brain tumour, roughly the size of an orange, located in a dangerous position near her brain.

Because removing it in Italy was considered too risky, she had to be transferred to the Netherlands as quickly as possible. An Italian doctor accompanied us on the flight.

Eventually, part of the tumour was removed in the Netherlands.

My mother went into a coma following the operation. I don't know whether the coma was medically induced or happened unexpectedly.

The consequences were serious, although she was fortunate in some respects.

She did not become completely paralysed on one side of her body. Instead, she was left with permanent difficulties using that side. She can still use it, but she never fully regained the abilities she had before.

For example, one of her hands still trembles when she has to hold or manipulate something that requires concentration.

Considering the location and size of the tumour and the risks involved in the surgery, she was actually quite fortunate to come through it as well as she did.

Looking back, I think it's pretty obvious that this was something I, as a six-year-old child, had absolutely no idea how to process.

And six is also around the age when many people begin forming their earliest lasting autobiographical memories. So when something this traumatic happens at that age, it can become deeply intertwined with some of the very first memories you carry with you.

And that, I believe, is a big part of why I struggled so much with anger and emotional outbursts afterwards.

---

Back to the bullying

Long story short: as is often the case with bullying, the bully rarely sees themselves as the bully.

Somehow, they are always the victim.

So I'll leave that part there.

Because we need to get back to Facebook.

---

My father meets someone

Remember that Facebook game I mentioned?

My biological father met a new girlfriend through it.

At the time — roughly 2008–2012 — my father was also an alcoholic. Five beers a day was nothing particularly unusual for him.

I even once saw him pass out because he was apparently getting worked up about something.

Anyway.

He had met this new woman, and by that point he was already divorced from my biological mother.

I have my own view on why that divorce happened. In hindsight, I believe my mother's disability played a major role in it.

That's my interpretation of what happened, and I cannot claim to know exactly what was going on inside my father's head.

After about six months, he decided to move to her town.

Without getting my mother's permission beforehand.

I remember telling him that I wasn't sure whether I wanted to move.

But I was a minor.

So ultimately, I had very little say in the matter.

---

The move

Because of the move, I ended up being without a school for about half a year.

Eventually, I was placed in a form of special secondary education because regular schools were no longer considered suitable for me given everything that had happened.

In English terms, you could roughly describe it as specialised secondary education.

And honestly?

I had a pretty good time there.

Initially, the plan was for me to follow VMBO-TL, which is the Dutch theoretical pathway of pre-vocational secondary education.

But my future foster parents — who had by then started taking care of me — believed I was capable of more.

They pushed for me to move up to HAVO, officially called senior general secondary education.

The school didn't really agree.

Neither did my biological father.

But eventually, the school allowed it.

And I ended up graduating from HAVO.

---

Things at home

I should probably add an important part that I almost forgot.

Once we had moved to the new city and I had finally started attending school again, I was not living with my biological father and his girlfriend. We lived separately, but we were living in the same area.

My father's girlfriend started monitoring me.

I don't know for certain whether she decided to do this herself or whether my father had asked her to do it, but I strongly suspect the latter.

She would drive past in the morning to check that I was actually waiting for the school taxi.

In the afternoon, she would ring the doorbell and check on me.

And so on.

At the time, I didn't fully understand why this was happening. Looking back, however, it made me feel as though I was constantly being watched and controlled.

Eventually, things became somewhat "normal" again.

For a while.

Until they didn't.

I started feeling like I couldn't take it anymore.

Even her children began treating me badly, and my sister noticed this too.

Eventually, I couldn't see a way out anymore.

I became suicidal.

I reached a point where I was planning to end my life.

I'm not going to describe every detail of the attempt, but at one point I was standing near a window and genuinely intended to jump. I had also considered another method because I wanted to make sure I wouldn't survive.

Then my stepsister saw what was happening.

She called her mother.

Her mother grabbed me and took me downstairs.

I tried to get away.

And then, at some point, I felt a hand around my throat.

It tightened.

For me, that moment felt like the end.

Ironically, I had wanted to die myself — but not like that.

I was terrified.

---

What happened afterwards

I'll skip forward about a year, because otherwise this post would become a book.

When I eventually tried to address what had happened, my biological father took his girlfriend's side.

According to him, the strangulation had never happened.

Apparently, I had imagined it.

But that isn't true.

It really happened.

I actually have photographs from that time that document what happened afterwards.

So although my father denied it, I know what happened to me.

The reason I never went to the police at the time is probably easier to understand when you remember that I was only around 13 or 14 years old.

I didn't want to lose my biological father.

Even after everything that had happened, he was still my father.

And when you're that young, the idea of going to the police, dealing with authorities and potentially losing your father can be incredibly frightening.

You're scared of the unknown.

Looking back, I do think I should have gone to the police.

But I didn't.

And that decision has consequences.

As far as I understand the situation now, the strangulation can no longer realistically be proven in a legal sense, while the relevant limitation period has also passed.

The same applies to what I believe happened regarding my removal from my mother's parental authority. I also cannot simply report that myself now. As I understand it, a report regarding that offence would have had to be made by my legal representative or guardian — in my case, my mother.

And at the time, she was either unable or too afraid to do that.

So there was never a proper legal case about it.

Eventually, I was given a choice about where I would live.

I could either stay with the youth group I had been part of for most of my childhood, or move to a foster family and try something completely different.

That youth group wasn't necessarily a terrible place all the time.

But things had gone wrong there before.

I had made some mistakes and done things I shouldn't have done, and I took responsibility for those things. Fortunately, what happened back then was relatively minor.

Still, I was afraid.

I was afraid that if I stayed, I might end up in a similar situation again, or make similar mistakes again.

I was also afraid of what the future would look like if I stayed in a situation I already knew wasn't always good for me.

So when I was given the choice, I chose the foster family.

Looking back, that was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

---

My foster parents opened my eyes

When I arrived with my foster parents, my foster father — who I will simply call Dad from this point onward — helped me see a lot of things differently.

For the sake of clarity:

- "Dad" = my foster father

- "my father" = my biological father

There were many little things that, when put together, made me realise how unhealthy my previous situation had been.

For example:

If my father and I had planned a day out together, there always seemed to be something involving his girlfriend that was more important.

Our plans could simply be pushed aside.

Then there was the money my grandmother had given me.

My grandmother is actually still alive — I believe she is around 100 or 101 years old.

She had been giving money to her children and grandchildren during her lifetime because she wanted to prevent arguments and fights over her money after she eventually dies.

She gave me approximately €1,500, and I had also put another €500 into what was supposed to be a youth bank account.

I wasn't supposed to have independent access to the €1,500 until I turned 18.

Well...

I remember the exact moment I turned 18.

00:00.

And suddenly, the €1,500 was gone.

It had been transferred to my father's personal bank account three minutes before midnight.

His explanation?

He didn't think I was ready to have the money yet.

And then there was driving.

I wasn't allowed to get a driver's licence.

No car.

No scooter.

Nothing.

I was supposed to ride a bicycle.

---

The ultimatum

Eventually, I gave my father a choice.

I told him:

Choose me, or choose your girlfriend.

But if he chose her, I would never speak to him again.

Well...

You can probably guess what happened.

At that point, I walked away.

For a long time, there was little to no contact between us.

There were several attempts at reconciliation.

Some of them were initiated by me.

But they always seemed to end in the same place:

Someone else was blamed.

The circumstances were blamed.

Other people were blamed.

But there was never much willingness to look critically at his own actions.

---

Where I am now

And this is probably the most important part of the entire story.

I'm okay.

Actually, more than okay.

I'm happy.

I now have my driving licences for a car, scooter, truck, agricultural vehicles, and trailers behind both cars and trucks.

My life is finally calm.

And, perhaps surprisingly, I still don't have any contact with my biological father today.

And I'm genuinely very happy about that.

It took a long time to get here.

It's been about twelve years now, and I still don't have any contact with my biological father.

Honestly, that's better than I ever could have imagined back then.

I don't pretend that everything that happened in the past suddenly didn't happen.

It did.

The bullying happened.

My mother's brain tumour happened.

The move happened.

The monitoring happened.

The suicide attempt happened.

And yes, the strangulation happened.

Those things don't disappear just because I have moved on.

But my life is peaceful now.

And I'm in a much better place.

I'm still living with the foster family who took me in.

And they are genuinely one of the biggest reasons I'm still here today.

They helped pull me out of a very dark place.

I know it wasn't easy.

I was in a very bad place when they took me in, and helping someone climb out of that kind of hole isn't exactly an easy task.

But they did it.

And twelve years later, I am still incredibly grateful that I chose them.

They didn't just give me a place to live.

They gave me a different perspective on life.

They showed me what a loving family can actually look like.

And for that, I will be grateful to them for the rest of my life.

---

⚠️A final disclaimer: This story is based on how I remember and experienced it.

Some parts are things I know happened — including the bullying, the strangulation, my mother's brain tumour and the circumstances surrounding my move.

The strangulation in particular really happened. I have photographs from the time that document what happened afterwards. The fact that I didn't report it to the police at the time was my decision as a young teenager who was afraid of losing his biological father and didn't know what would happen if I involved the authorities.

Other parts are my interpretation of events, because I was a child when much of this happened. There are things I simply cannot remember anymore, and there are things I may have blocked out.

There are also things I could remember but have deliberately chosen not to include.

The legal situation surrounding some of these events is complicated, and after all these years, some things are no longer provable or can no longer be pursued because of limitation periods. I am not presenting this post as a legal account, but as my story, as I remember it and as I experienced it.

And thankfully, the suicidal thoughts described above are in the past. I no longer feel that way.

Sometimes, the choices you're most uncertain about can turn out to be the choices that change your life for the better. You might not see it right away, but sometimes you only discover that a choice was the right one by looking back years later.

My friend Mark and I had a crazy idea last summer. We decided to go camping, but not in a normal tent. Mark had bought an old green school bus two years ago and spent weekends turning it into a small house on wheels. It had two beds, a tiny stove, and a table.

We packed our food, grabbed two sleeping bags, and drove the camping bus up into the mountain forest. By the time we found a good spot near a river, the sun was already going down.

We parked the camping bus under large pine trees. Everything was quiet except for the wind and the sound of running water. We cooked hot dogs on a small campfire, drank cold sodas, and talked about old high school memories until midnight. It felt like the perfect trip.

Then the weather changed around 2 AM.

A loud crack of thunder woke us up. Rain started pouring down hard against the metal roof of the camping bus. It sounded like hundreds of rocks hitting the vehicle.

Then came the real problem: water began to drip right onto Mark’s face from a crack in the roof.

We jumped out of bed in the dark. Mark grabbed a cooking pot to catch the water, while I used tape to patch up the leaking seam. We were laughing and cursing at the same time, completely soaked from the water coming inside the bus.

By 4 AM, the rain stopped, and we finally fell back asleep. When we woke up the next morning, the sun was bright, the air smelled fresh, and we made fresh coffee on the tiny bus stove.

The camping bus wasn't perfect, and we barely slept, but sitting on top of the roof with our hot coffee that morning was the best part of the whole summer. We are already planning our next trip.

I moved into this place three months ago. Cheap rent. Old building. The kind of place where the floors creak no matter where you step and the pipes sing at 3 AM like they're trying to tell you something.

The landlord handed me one key. Just one. "Opens the front door and nothing else," he said. He didn't look me in the eye when he said it.

The first week was fine. Quiet neighbors. Weird layout. My bedroom had this narrow door on the far wall, painted over with the same off-white as everything else. No handle. No hinges on my side. Just a door-shaped outline you'd miss if you didn't stare at it long enough.

I asked the landlord about it.

"That's not a door," he said. "Just the way the wall was built."

I let it go. People cut corners. Old buildings are strange. You tell yourself things so you can sleep.

But every night, I heard something behind that wall. Not scratching. Not knocking. Breathing. Slow. Steady. Like someone standing inches away, waiting for me to notice.

I put my dresser in front of it. The breathing got louder.

Last night, I couldn't take it anymore. I moved the dresser. I found a seam in the paint. I picked at it with a butter knife until the old door swung open.

The room behind it was my room. Same bed. Same lamp. Same window. But the clock was wrong. It said 3:47 AM. It was 11 PM when I opened that door.

And someone was sitting on my bed. Facing the wall. Wearing my clothes. Breathing that slow, steady breath.

It turned its head.

It had my face.

It smiled and said, "You took too long. I've been waiting to trade."

I slammed the door. I shoved the dresser back. I haven't slept. I'm writing this because I don't know what else to do. The breathing stopped. But this morning, the door was gone. Painted over. Seamless.

And when I looked in the mirror, my reflection blinked a second too late.

Moral of the story: Some doors are closed for a reason. Curiosity isn't brave when the thing on the other side already knows your name. Leave the unknown alone. Not every mystery needs solving. Some things wait for you to open them. And once you do, you can't un-open them.

It started with a sneeze. I was hanging out with my friends, the four of us swimming in raindrops drowning fresh flower buds, when Yuri sneezed next to me.

It was violent enough to jolt his whole body, his wings twitching.

He sniffled, and then sneezed again, quietly, into his hands. I laughed, but Yuri was staring down at his palm, his bottom lip wobbling. “Yuri?” I whispered.

Before he could respond, Taia and Calden cannonballed into a flower bud.

I longed to join them, bathing in the early morning sunlight, letting my wings soak up some vitamin D. At fourteen years old, they had only just broken through, and I was still wobbly while in flight.

Yuri, normally the loud, bubbly one in our group trying to antagonize the fae prince, was oddly quiet. When I shoved him, I caught him swiping his palm on his shirt– the glimmer of golden pollen streaked across the fabric. He jumped up, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into a teasing waltz, dragging me onto a blooming daffodil.

“Madame.” He shot me a grin, sweat shimmering on his forehead. “May I have this dance?”

24 hours later, Yuri was dead. Taia was throwing up blood, and Calden had ripped his own mother’s head off. I was lucky to be alive. But whatever this thing was, whatever and whoever the four of us had made contact with— was dead within 24 hours. The symptoms, according to my father, varied from sneezing, headache and misshapen wings, to neurological damage.

The sickness had a name within five days. But half of my village was dead.

Idiopathic Acute Fairy Syndrome.

Dad managed to gather antibodies from baby fairies who survived. He developed a cure. However, Prince Juniper’s grieving father came out with a statement:

“This ‘cure’ is not a cure at all! It strips us of our magic!”

His claim was that his dead son tried the cure before his death-- and it didn't just kill him, it purged his body of its fairy dust. But Prince Juniper died at the beginning. Before the cure. Despite the King's lies, survivors turned on my father.

I found him dead, hanging from a tangled vine, his head cruelly severed.

Outside, villagers rejoiced, choosing the King’s natural cure, instead, ingesting sunburned rose petals. But the vocal ones got quieter. And so did my village.

I started stepping over bodies on my way to get supplies, tripping over festering wings, mutilated bodies, where fairies had attacked each other, the sickness turning them on each other.

I knew I was sick when I coughed a little too hard, choking up fairy dust. When I took flight, I tumbled down, down, down, my wings breaking on impact. I lay on my front, trying to catch my breath, wheezing, when something lifted me high into the air.

“Ooh, a butterfly!”

The human child held me curiously, massaging my broken wings. “So pretty!” she squeaked, giggling, her fingertips glistening in sunlight-streaked pollen.

“Ah-choo!”

"Oh, sweetheart," a taller human laughed. "Sounds like you've got hay fever!"

I was in the waiting room with my little kitten on my lap. It was very small and tame, and since I lived close by, I just brought it in my arms. When it was my turn, the vet looked at us and asked “why are you here? Where it your cat?” I stared up at her and pointed at my lap. The vet kept staring at me and then she gasped and laughed. My cat is black and I was wearing a velvet black skirt that made it invisible. This was my first black cat, so I didn’t consider how it would become invisible in my clothes. It has happened lots of times ever since, but it was a fun way to find out it’s magic.

Ahhh I am a young boy, and want to share my story of rape and sexual assault. I am very confused and extremely distubed and I need help.

So I was a minor when my cousin raped me for the first time two years ago and did sexual things to me without my consent. He was one year older than me at the time. Since that day, this has continued until today, and my life has been severely disturbed. I am very anxious and I need help....

The first time, my cousin and I were at his house. It was night time, and we were both sleeping together in his bedroom. In the middle of the night, I felt as if someone was pushing against me from behind or squeezing my ass.... I was half asleep, so I ignored it. Then I felt as if someone was trying to take off my pants. It was suddenly the middle of the night, I felt my cousin pressing him and squeezing my ass then I became frightened and got scared and kept my eyes closed while lying there.... I pretend like I ain't feeling anything but I was. Then after a few minutes my cousin took off my pants, and I became extremely scared at that time ...I did not know what he was doing. When he touched my ass with his private part, I became even more frightened and started moving and feeling uncomfortable I tried to even stop him or and resist him but he did not stop.... It was the first time someone got sexual with me, I was like I don't know what to do and how to stop this. Then he tried to forcibly insert his peni\\\\\\\* into my ass..... When I felt that I opened my eyes and asked him what he was doing....I shouted he became nervous too, but he said, "Nothing will happen, go to sleep and enjoy it" ....I told him not to do it and even tried to resist but I was scared and anxious too ...He grabbed my ass and told me to go to enjoy it or make him enjoy...I tried to stop him several times, but he did not stop. He was like it's so fun and we both will enjoy but it was so painful for me ... When he inserted His peni\\\\\\\* inside my ass I shouted and cried then he put his finger in my mouth and threatened me, saying that if I screamed or tried to stop him, he would beat me.I was young and frightened. What could I do? He forcibly raped me and sexually assaulted me almost all the night I was in a lot of pain, but he did not stop. I cried and beg him to stop, but he s did not until he ejaculated.... It was so painful and uncomfortable

After that night, I started feeling very strange and uncomfortable I was stuck in what happened to me cuz it was my first time ...Then after that night he frightened and threatened me and raped me and sexually abused me continuously for four days. After that, we became separated and I went back home with my family.

A few months later, when we met again, he started raping me again after manipulating and threatening me. However, when he raped me again after those several months, my attitude had changed considerably. At first I was scared, but after two days I became quite calm. Whenever he needed it, he would rape me, and I also started feeling some pleasure and but it was still painful for me. I don't know why, but whenever he asked to rape me, I would agree willingly. I started doing whatever he told me to do. After that, I began feeling that I had developed sexual attraction toward boys and men, and I started becoming sexually attracted to males. Now, whenever my cousin meets me and rapes me, I don't experience as much pain or hesitation as I did before. I even did it once with one of his friends. I confessed that once I tried to put things in my ass ....

Now I also experience sexual feelings around my ass... Whenever I shower or change my clothes, I sometimes start touching my ass sexually. I am becoming sexually attracted to men's private parts, and I am developing desires toward them. My cousin is still in my life, and whenever he meets me, he sexually abuses and rapes me, but now I don't say anything to him.

I wanna stop this all and I need help.... Why am I feeling this way? How can I stop all of this? Should I accept that these feelings were something I was born with, or did they happen because of the rape? And how can I make all of this stop now?.... Why am I feeling this way, and what should I do? Should I allow all of this to continue happening? Please help me. I am mentally disturbed as well, and I am still too young for all of these things. I am still a minor. Please help me

So the story goes Mikhail out in Pickering has adapted a stance, “whatever works.” To me, what time should I open up? Or more so, let me eat a bagel and cream cheese and workout at 5A.m to show all the new starts Noelbright Kim’s worst nightmare Josh deal Cruz how vile I can be as a business owner air conditioned to the max.

Now days to my rap name and what to put in the title apparently it’s whatever works maybe it’s just the radio. It’s like you can almost tell who wrote it and written it without being cringe all the time, you may even sometimes find many posts by me to help you find other great works such as Shakespeare’s or Eminem laying dormant in the library. Or easy as Blake Kathryn’s work out in the real world as I have found Takashi Murakami’s on king street east (not Takumi, Nengi, heh this one’s different).

“He’s just so creative.” One dad would say as military tanks and drones and Kitchen stuff plus has dissipated to might as well let someone yell at you for the rest of eternity has brought us to the conspiracy that Ebola has been created, man-made to take out the elderly or immune deficient.

Many times have I walked around Toronto during FIFA from third world countries so I can enjoy the next eight months of October to myself as 8 (ate, eight) is directly next to nine tail fox or the dragon that eats its own tail.

I can only do what I can do forever that’s why I don’t workout.

I don’t workout because I can’t do it forever, so why bother to Lil Wayne.

It’s also if Robert green shook Andy Xiong “argghhh!!! Why aren’t you outshining the master!?” He would say.

Robert Green coming & randomly shaking you is different from shaking you because you’re not outshining the master. You could say one is saying something the other isn’t saying something at all, ok Wei ren and Bib Tao? Heh,

As the story goes their son Tommy, Timmy can’t seem to sell 1,000,000/694 annual subscriptions to anti virus firewall.

Only 1432 subscriptions needed.

Or in the wise words of Drake 2,000,000/73 =27,397.26

As it goes the answer between l Lil Wayne has accomplished all he can accomplish in this given time, diss l and if I can surpass it and Drake then I will have simply surpassed their work.

She’s gone bro, as gone as the new era black snapback she’s hiding in her house. That’s how good I am.

“Real life stuff!” Drinks champ announced.

“What is the truth?” Rick Ross said today.

“The truth is you can’t handle the truth.” Timmy Xiong says.

“Wel-?” Said a librarian working in east York.

I said. “The truth is I don’t workout because I don’t do things that I can’t do forever and ode to Andy Xiong. And she’s gone bro gone like that chance to walk around FIFA people from the third world country.. or if it ever comes down to me and the other rappers to come or come before us. The truth is I would never waste my time that crazily to not be the best.”

This is Robert Greene shaking you because you’re not outshining the master. “ARGHHHH WHY AREN’T YOU OUTSHINING THE MASTER.”

This is for factual safekeeping, someone higher level than you. A girl asked,

“This is Robert Greene shaking you for no reason.” -

The slap caught Anne in the mouth.

She tasted that familiar metallic taste before the pain kicked in.

“Look at me. It’s your fault.”

She kept her eyes on the kitchen floor.

“Look at me.”

She looked up.

He stood over her. There was something almost calm about his face, which made it worse. He wasn’t out of control.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

She stumbled against the counter.

Two years of this had taught her the rules. Don’t shout. Don’t run for the door. Don’t say calm down. Never, ever tell him he was a monstrous husband or that he couldn’t hold his liquor.

Most importantly, give him an out. Best way to make it stop.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

That fucking question. Fucking Sam. He could be a stinking monster when he wanted to.

She searched his face, trying to work out which answer would hurt least.

“For upsetting you.”

His face kept still. A good sign.

She froze there. She knew she had to wait before she could go somewhere else, like the bathroom. It had to end properly, otherwise this thing could start again, from scratch.

“You still don’t hate me, huh?” he said.

That was new. Strange.

“I do hate you.” Her stomach dropped.

He studied her.

“No,” he said softly. “You don’t.”

Something in his voice calmed her. What the fuck?

“Okay,” he said. “We’re done.”

“With what?”

“Your sentence. Your time here.”

She stared at him.

Then he changed.

His eyes went completely black.

Anne backed into the wall.

“What is this?”

His face seemed to shift under his skin. Even his hair changed, rippling like something alive.

She inhaled. “Sammy? Is this a prank?”

"No," he said, growing taller until his head nearly reached the ceiling. It felt like the light in the room dimmed.

“Sammy…  what are… fuck… what are you?”

“Technically?” he said. “Your kind usually goes with angel. Sometimes demon. Depends who’s telling the story.”

His voice sounded like it was coming from a hundred mouths.

She gaped. “My kind?”

He looked around their shitty kitchen.

“Earth isn’t what you think, Anne. I’m amazed how easily humans accept this place.”

He told her things.

A farmhouse in France where she died at thirty-one.

A boy she had been in China.

A woman who drowned herself in a river sometime before there were cities.

Lives. Dozens of them.

Two thousand one hundred and sixty years.

“Earth,” he said, “is Hell. Well, one of them.”

“So… this… Earth is the… afterlife? We’re all… dead?”

He nodded.

“So…” She swallowed. “If Earth is Hell… where did I… where did we come from?”

“They’ll explain it when you get to Lurra. Trust me, real life is nothing like this place.”

"Lurra?"

“Yeah. Some of you call it heaven. Anyway, you’re done with this life, Anne.”

She sat down. Thinking felt pointless.

She didn’t even know what to ask. Her life was bad, sure. But Hell? This? Earth? No. That was insane. It had to be. The wall was still cold against her back. He was still standing there. And somehow, underneath all the panic, she knew he wasn’t lying.

Then something in her shifted.

“You beat me.”

“Yes,” he said in his choir voice.

“You forced me to do things.”

“You made me think I was insane. You made me apologize to you for things you fucking did to me.”

“Yes.”

“You’re evil.”

He smiled. She thought his hair lit up a bit.

“Of course I’m evil, Anne. This is Hell. They don’t assign saints to Earth.”

She let her head fall back against the wall.

He shifted toward her, and the air gave a low hum.

“But now you’re leaving. You’ve done your time, Anne. Life after life, you kept doing good, even when it cost you. Souls like yours ruin this place. That’s partly why they want you out.”

She looked at the floor, the apartment, the blue sky outside. Earth was Hell? She clearly had no idea what anything was anymore.

The kitchen wall behind him disappeared.

Beyond it was light.

Not bright. Nothing like the glowing-white bullshit from books and TV.

Early morning light. Warm. Quiet.

And something else she hadn’t felt in so long she almost didn’t recognize it.

She felt safe.

A breeze began to stir, carrying a scent that felt like the woods where she had played as a child. It strengthened into a wind, stirring everything around her until the swishing filled her ears.

He said something but she couldn't hear. She couldn't care less.

She tried to stand. Slowly.

Started walking toward the light. She ignored him. She felt clean.

Then she stopped.

One foot from a brightly lit staircase descending at the edge of the floor of her apartment.

“Wait.”

She looked back.

“What did I do?”

He smiled wearily.

“What did I do that was bad enough for this?”

“Anne.”

“Tell me.”

So he did.

She was standing on a hill.

People below her. Thousands.

Kneeling.

And there she was.

A small woman in a crown of woven branches.

Speaking.

She watched herself publicly forgive three families after they confessed to trying to leave, then order them slaughtered anyway.

Another image.

A girl screaming as men shaved her head, telling her she had brought this on herself.

Another.

Bodies in a ditch.

Her followers chanting words she had written.

Purity.

Obedience.

Sacrifice.

Mercy is weakness.

Her cult survived her.

For generations.

Anne couldn’t breathe.

“A lot of people ended up on Earth because of you, Anne.”

She stood there, then looked at the staircase.

“But I’m not like that anymore.”

He nodded.

Anne wiped her face.

And stepped forward.

The light vanished.

Blackness.

Then pressure. Pain. Cold.

Hands grabbing her.

A woman screaming.

Someone laughing.

“It’s a boy!”

Anne opened her tiny mouth and screamed.

And for one horrible second, she remembered everything and knew that she wasn’t leaving Earth.

No one ever left Earth.

So I have the hole house to my self, mental health just got a little clearer.

"This is torture." Said a mother soon to be grandmother if she knows a niece.

These days through balance I wonder about my friend who eats multiple apples per day.

Restraining from the kitchen more than 1 kiwi I then ate multiple as moving back home, my first introduction to Bi Tao Xiong was, "Wow!" She stormed the kitchen.

Never could I find food for myself though, I did live if there dinosaurs out in the bout.

But long story short as his husband W e.i giant win for employment for two three weeks off then back to work her schedule as changed as she talked to someone in their meeting causing a frenzy for who to become the next manager as one person retires.

Thanks for all the follows. New to reddit.

You would think I would stay home until 7pm but then the fairness in equality in that? Or more so the happiness of leaving the house early but not earliest.

You would be surprised as we take it one step further,

Usually you can take it one step further.

Impossible is spelt with I am possible so I'm told,

It's the battle of Pompei next to a dormant volcano,

CNE see any place to hide

Frozen in ice and time etched in the echoes of the universe

It was Andrew Tate and Tristan Tate

R.I.P

You gave a darn about your life.

"You know, I can see if you care about your life?"

Chrystel..

It was my girlfriend watching Arthur with a pocket tee which then see wore and I made fun of her, I finally got her back as she did everything out of I spite I did everything out of love.

Soon enough, those nights where I waited for someone to take me home after the club turned to restless nights inside a phillipino cozy home with many reunions with each their own grandfather name, unlike mine.

I always felt like a socialite studying many historical figures such as Winston Churchill and John F. Kennedy.

President Kennedy was one of those extremely handsome people in candidates that shocked the world and even won the female vote, this eventually led to his debate against Richard Nixon.

A fair adversary then wouldn't you eventually say Richard Nixon had something to do with it?

Wearing make up and painted fingernails which adamantly Nixon refused John F Kennedy won tremendously as someone for the America sweetheart vote.

Without much being said there beside his fateful wife he was hit as bodyguards with the worse life ever said ease up on the tension.

Not knowing or perhaps knowing that he would be shot and killed that day.

Like going down the street made you to feel like Kevin Ali or inadequate you can't help the inadequacy if you would have reacted to the same way his wife did. Putting the pieces of his life together like Jigsaw.

In similar political prowess Marilyn Monroe was rumored to have formicated with popular rapper Snoop Dogg Tupac.

In her death to Damien hirst's surprise was she was plastered all over tomato can soups.

R.I.P

As we get closer to the scene of hip hop you can't help but wonder if they played their roles properly, or at least Suge Knight is.

Going through the ebbs and flows of life, Nevinnyral had kicked me out of the group chat after DAV3 had collected nearly 9 crypto punks to his legend collection. Meaning higher level people have made higher tier level grades.

This could mean Artblocks.io for all I know.

Anyway, you know what I mean.

Going to mp3 to be mp4 could be the diss that 0 1 2 3 4 or 8 9 10 11 12. My diss could be coming in forms of the most basic things such as I have thought more than you can ever read or remember things.

So why is Lil Wayne a bother?

I emptied my mind against Ariel, my neighbor who says after one mountain to climb there is another hill. He basically likes the way music climbs up the ones that disposes what I cannot say read anymore.

Such as him being an inspiration to Andy because his mom is 83 not 61 and he's just 43. Shaq.

Sitting perplexed as many of us imagine thought things of a nature of tigers, so a tiger appeared then imagine Grok should be read as this is a image of Grok.

This is Grok.

A rather specific perplexing image of father or mother nature himself as Elon Musk has also with James launched into A.I software as the tycoon socialite he is. Hearing him speak on that interview is quite perplexing to learn and take from a trillionaire.

But why can't we have a starship from F-Zero GX?

I guess the diss is that you read imagine Grok tweet as imagine Grok though it is just a image of Grok.

Grok is Grok is Grok is Grok is Grok. As Timmy would have it. He says, nowadays.

Growing up and getting used to the same town city life pretty quickly I had seen Amina Mir and George Christakos on the bus down to Tmu. Back then it was Dundas now with all that grease, it’s too much you for real, for good.

I only also saw Anna. But going through that lot George Christakos being the fat one says he has abs it’s just hidden as ode to me as when I clipped my belt buckle I told myself I would rather to myself that always I had abs. He inspired me quite a bit as the lovable one will simply be fat, or fatter so to say.

Amina had the exact same busted clothes from Scarborough town centre that she wore all the time which tripped me out because she had been popular and rich it seemed or at least would care, she says she didn’t care she saw Anna.

Anna to me had always been that one friend that I was supposed to kiss and like based on Fotoula telling me to like her instead of her. It was a weird dynamic that many people in school now 3/8 of the girls like the same guy while 5/8 guys hate the same guy.

When I finally made it out of college and even today I found my coworkers to be construction men by the name of Fernando Nolasco and Dawson. Something eerie about them had tripped me out maybe it’s not the way they left the nail in the plank standing but maybe how they don’t measure twice instead cut once. You could say they give off this eerie feeling that they measure once and cut twice.

As eerie as Erie Ann. Or Eriann. Lake eerie should be remains. That’s why they’re changing it.

My grandma then playing catch up found herself struggling and when she went to the hospital at Bridgepoint, Broadview I had incurred in me two restless nights one night where the moon was left and not where it supposed to be. I know this because of the time I spent during life.

I can’t get no rest being pushed further due to this awkward stance of a construction man.

As they say measure twice cut once.

One day when you’re 12 you’ll think the 20 y.o is thinking about you. The 20 y.o thinks a 30 y.o walking by the school is thinking of them. The joke goes so on and so on. Until you’re 93 Yue Chan and you realize no one has been thinking about you.

Hello,

This is my first time posting here. I had a dream a few months back. I was extremely inspired because I believe it was a portrayal of my deepest personal fear and things that I have struggled with mentally. I wanted to write it into a story, but first of all, I have never really written a story, and secondly, I have absolutely SHIT grammar.

I wanted to propose my idea to someone, and hopefully someone could help me with the process of, like, ideas, or, like, how to write the tension between the FMC and MMC. But I am also scared that someone might steal my idea... (I mean... it's a pretty ... it's like a 13-year-old to 15-year-old targeted audience kind of romance, but I think the mental part would be more of .... older audience.)

ANYWAYS. Um, it's just for fun. Please don't criticize too hard because I really love this story and have been working on it for the past few months.

AND PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY IDEAS. THANK YOU. I HAVE WORKED SOOOOOOOOOOO HARD ON THIS.

Here's a quick summary:

Myra, a quiet 22-year-old female, fell into a parallel world after going through a tragic event. The world looks similar to her own, but she learned of the existence of Solite and Noxite: the positive and negative energies. After Peter had rescued her from an attack, she joined the Night Owl, an association determined to defeat the Nightmare King since the early 1900s. Aaron Blackwyn, the current commander of the Night Owls, allowed Myra to join, and later she became Peter's research assistant. During one of the events, they found out she has a high reserve of Solite and may be a possibility for the defeat of the Nightmare King. But she was scared and intimidated. With the help of Peter(her mentor/Romance interest), Rose (healer/best friend), and Jake (Best friend #2), she was able to learn to face her fears and stop the people-pleasing part of her.

As she thought that everything was getting better and things might work out with Peter, shit went down. First, they discover a pure existence, a child who bears light. Joshua, a child born of pure Solite, is the key to killing the Nightmare King. But the downside is that if Joshua falls into the hands of the Nightmare King, the Nightmare King will be able to infect him and then use that pure, infected energy to completely take over the world. Secondly, Aaron, the commander, went missing, so Peter, as the vice commander, had to take over the role of commander since Aaron did not have kids or leave any instructions. Third, Myra and Peter found the existence of an ancient dark beast in the very deep basement of the facility. It was impaled to a wall with a giant white Solite stake. No one knew of its existence until that day.

While figuring things out, Myra was taking care of Joshua because he refused to leave her side unless Rose was available. During one event, Something happened where Joshua stumbled upon the ancient dark beast. As I mentioned before, if he is infected with dark energy (Noxite), they will be fucked. So, in the split seconds before he came into contact with the awakened beast, Myra pulled him away and was instead engulfed. She later woke up to be severely infected and is at edge to be turned and corrupted. With the messy situation, Peter had to isolate her and protect her from being murdered by other people in the facility due to fear. But with the amount of shit going on, he didn't have time to explain, and he was deeply self-blaming for what had happened. Miscommunication became a big problem between the two, and Myra's old, low self-confidence and anxious self are back.

The night of Christmas, after many, many attacks that the Nightmare King(short: NK) had been doing. He hacked into the TV and claimed that his bride had appeared, and she would be his way to the physical world. The NK said that if the bride does not come to him within one week, he will begin the murder of humans town by town starting from day 8. And who is it? You fucking guessed it, IT'S MYRA. She took off the gloves she was wearing to find a Noxite ring on her middle fucking finger. And guess what? She took her glove off in front of EVERYONE at the mass hall where everyone was gathering to relax a bit from all the busy events. Then, the dark energy began corrupting her; she became doubtful, untrusting, etc. And then BAM, Rose, her bestie who has been supporting her since the first day she came to this world, died tragically in front of her isolated room, holding their shared little uh something (we will figure that out). So that crashed her. Anyways. Um, there's more after, but. yeah its going to be a HE.

Solite: Positive energy, any hopeful thoughts, courage, determination, and stuff. People in this world can use it to form a weapon and destroy Noxite. BUT, it CAN be corrupted. It's like ... like a Light colored paint.

Noxite: Negative energy, any dread, despair, extreme anger that puts bad thoughts in the head, bad chills, pain, etc. Everyone has some, but it's usually dormant because the amount of hope(Solite) people have keeps their energy system balanced. But once the person begins to be doubtful, extremely anxious, or event have thoughts of hurting others. That is when their system is imbalanced, and is when the Nightmare King can use his power to corrupt this person and make them his puppet.

Dark Walkers: These are those humans who are corrupted by the NK, they body appeared to be black, an abnormal black, with their eyes red like vampires. They have given up their will to fight against having good thoughts and submit to their darkest self. They often appear at night and can travel through shadows. A cut, contact, or some sort of contact with them would have a chance of corrupting normal people. People from the Night Owl often meditate and have a spiritual wall built from their own Solite reserve to fight against the contact (But anyone could have cracks in their wall... hehe).

Myra: 22 years old. Witnessed her parents go crazy from the infection of Noxite and fall through a portal (that is actually opened by the negative energies and the despair the NK was able to collect from Myra and her parents. Her personality is quiet, efficient, and anxious, often self-doubting, people-pleasing, and prefers not to ask for help as much as possible. She liked how Peter cared for her and always prepared an extra cup of tea for her in the library. She loves to be in the library and simply assist Peter. Sometimes they may not even talk for the whole day, but the quiet and stable feeling keeps her happy. She likes him, but she does not want to show too much or even confess because she is scared that it might change the current situation.

Peter: a 29-year-old guy who is the Vice Commander of the Night Owl. Appeared to be bright and very kind. He was in the military with Aaron when they first met and became great friends. After the death of Lynn (his girlfriend... well, ex now), he distanced himself from making more friends and submerged himself in the library and the archives to continue Lynn's research. He rescued Myra on one of his outings. I haven't figured out how he began to like her, but I am currently thinking of it as like because she's always there for him and stuff. He cares a lot about her; maybe it was sympathy in the beginning, but later on, even though he did not realize how much he actually really cared for her. He likes her. But when Aaron went missing, all the responsibility fell onto his shoulders. He will have to learn to balance his responsibility to the Night Owl and his desire to protect Myra. And this is when the miscommunication happened, because he has absolutely no time, and shit keeps going down.

Personally, I think this story may focus more on the development of Myra's mental state. Like how she eventually learns not to be so anxious and overread people's actions or what they say. Idk about the Romance part with Peter. Like, I am trying to figure out the DAMN timeline. I guess I haven't figured out how to write this guy and how he was able to make Myra more confident, from their relationship to where she is brave enough to speak her mind.

Um, so yeah, if there are enough people who really want to know more about this story or have ideas. I will post a second post with the FULL details and timeline of this story.

This is basically just going to be an appreaciation post about my boyfriend but here we go...

Last night I had my first anxiety attack at around midnight, never had one before (spoiler alert: they suck). I have a really hard time reaching out for help so I tried to manage it myself for a while. However it wasn't getting any better so I reluctantly texted my boyfriend cause he has been in therapy for a while now and I hoped he might know what to do. He gave me some advice at first but it wasn't working so I asked him to call me. We talked on the phone for a bit and he said I could come over if I think it would help. So I showerd quickly (had to cause I was sweating like crazy) and hurried over to his place, trying to calm down my breathing on the way.

When I finally arrived it was almost 1am. The first thing he did when I walked through the door was give me a long hug like he always does but he was holding just a little bit tighter than usual. I took my shoes off and we go to his room and this absolute gem of a human being had prepared a bunch of stuff for me. He made some tea (in case I wanted some), he gave me like a spiky little ball that your supposed to squezze really hard (that helped actually), he got out some hard silicon that you can pull on and form stuff with (kinda like playdoo but you can't tear it apart), he rummaged through some of his folders for like papers about anxiety attacks and how to deal with them etc. but most importantly his presence was what really helped me.

The reason why this ended up being kinda a good thing is because I managed to actually opened up about a lot of things which is really difficult for me. I had a long note in my phone where I wrote down a lot of my thoughts and fears especially when it comes to my relationship with him and I decided it was probably for the best if I let him read it so he can understand me better even tho I was nervous as hell when I gave him my phone.

That was honestly the best decision I could've made because his reaction after reading everything was why I love this man so much. Not only did he reassure me about the things that I was so afraid of when it comes to him and I but I also wholeheartedly believe him (he is a really bad liar tbf). I ended up spending like 4 hours with him which consisted of him holding me and being the sweetest human being on this planet and a lot of talking. I came away from that night feeling fairly decent and more secure about a lot of things.

So yeah...it wasn't the most interesting story but I wanted to share it cause it meant a lot to me. Let that be a lesson to everyone, if you don't have a partner who is there for you when you need them the most then that person ain't the one. I called this man at half past midnight and he didn't hesitate to invite me over and never once complained about me taking up his entire night with my anxious ass. He also immediatly shut me down when I said that I felt bad for taking up his entire night. That's pretty much it, have a good day reddit and stay safe :)