Okay, so girl… I need you to sit down for this because WHAT HAPPENED TO ME IS ACTUALLY INSANE.
So basically, for the past few months, I had this weird feeling that someone was watching me. Every time I left work, I’ve been getting strange texts like “ you looked beautiful today” or “ new scrubs?” Sometimes I’d notice the same guy in the emergency room, or standing across in the parking lot.
At first, I thought I was being dramatic.
Until I started getting anonymous letters in the mail as well.
The first one was a note w rose petals and a single kiss candy. I didn’t bother to read it just threw it all away. But
Girl. I GOT ON My Phone & blocked the THE NUMBER i was getting any strange texts from.
And made a report, I cant stop mail but i can stop the texts. Then another message came through from a different number.
“You really shouldn’t walk to your car alone.”
Like um EXCUSE ME?!
I started checking over my shoulder everywhere I went. I even reported it, but nobody could figure out who was doing it.
Now, here’s where things get CRAZY.
One night, I got off work late. It was raining, my phone was dead, and the parking lot was practically empty.
I was walking to my car when I heard someone behind me.
I turned around, and this random man started asking me questions.
I tried to ignore him, but he suddenly grabbed my wheel and trying to make his way into my car, he pulls me out slammed me against the ground.
I STARTED SCREAMING.
He covered my mouth and tried dragging me. I was fighting for my life, literally. I genuinely thought I was about to die.
And then a guy shouted “ hey, hey let go of her now. .”.
And guess who was standing there?
THE GUY WHO HAD BEEN IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM AND PARKING LOT SOMETIMES.
I WAS SO CONFUSED.
The attacker told him to mind his own business, but this man just stood there staring at him like he was about to lose his mind.
He said, “I’m not going to tell you again.”
From there he charged at him, and the two of them started fighting and attacker ended up running away.
I ran in the opposite direction and I scrambled toward the building and called the police.
Then the attacker ran.
Andthe guy
He immediately came to look for me and said he texted me not to walk to my car alone at night.
Thats when it hit me this guy was my “stalker” idk what to even call him but he saved me but im also extremely uncomfortable. This guy has sent letters to my house knows where i live and is following me. Yes he saved me. But idk what to think about all of this. Absolutely crazy. Police ended up showing up took a report and yes i made two reports that night. Idk its has to been the freakiest thing to happen to me. Ill be moving soon thats for sure.

I was molested at 6, then again twice when I was 18. At 18, I also got pregnant with my boyfriend and had to go through an abortion. The same relationship lasted two years, during which he cheated on me while I was dealing with health problems. When the truth came out, he made up an entire story and told our university that I was the one who cheated. I almost quit university at 20 because of everything. Eventually, I went to therapy, and life started getting better.

Then I lost my pet. Four months later, I watched my grandmother lie in a hospital for 22 days, unconscious, struggling to breathe, fighting for her life while all I could do was stand there and hope she would somehow make it through. I watched her suffer. I watched the uncertainty, the machines, the endless waiting, and the helplessness of wanting to save someone you love more than anything but not being able to do a damn thing.

And here I am, just 22 years old, carrying all of this.

I’m numb, but I’m okay, I guess. I tend to run away from my feelings by distracting myself, and eventually, I accept things without letting them hurt me as much. I don’t know if that’s healing or just my way of coping.

But sometimes, when I look back at everything I’ve survived, I genuinely think I’m the strongest person I know.

I’m not saying I’m unbreakable. I’m just amazed that after everything life has thrown at me, I’m still here, trying to live.

Maybe I don’t need to be strong all the time. Maybe I deserve some peace, too.

I’m not saying I’m strong because none of this affects me. It does. I’m not saying I’ve healed from everything because I haven’t. There are things I still haven’t completely processed, things that might hurt me years from now, and things I don’t even have the words to explain.

I’m only 22. I should be worrying about my career, making memories, figuring out who I am, and enjoying my twenties. Instead, I’ve already experienced things that have fundamentally changed the way I see people, love, loss, and life itself.

I am terrified of skunk encounters in the wild, for obvious reasons. I think they’re adorable when I see videos of them but I get freaked out when I see them in the wild. Today I’m convinced a skunk knew this and decided to torment me at work.

I have a job that involves a lot of maintenance and upkeep of ornamental gardens at an arboretum, and the actual curators for the gardeners are some older people who volunteer their time to tending their exhibits. I’m here to mostly help with any tasks they need me to do that they physically can’t do. One garden exhibit needs some mulching done, but the area is on a slight slope, so some kind of barrier needs to be put into place to prevent the mulch from washing away in the event of rain. So me being the young spry buck I am I was going to go along the creek in the woods next to the arboretum and collect large rocks to try and make a natural looking barrier.

And then the skunk appeared. I opened the fence gate to scout out the best trail to carry the large rocks to my wheelbarrow and the smell of skunk lingered. No big deal, we’re outside anyways. But then I saw the fucker running towards me, and I was maybe 20 feet away. I freaked out, assumed it was rabid or after me and jetted away and locked the gate. I walked back to the office to cool down a bit and someone driving by said they saw the skunk take off across the street. I returned about 5 minutes later assuming the coast was clear.

I ended up getting all the rocks I needed and was moving them to the wheelbarrow care free, when I saw the skunk running at me AGAIN. At this point I just assumed it’s rabid, why is it actively seeking out a person? I couldn’t get to the gate without running directly at the skunk so I ran up to the fence line and scaled the 8 foot fence like a convict escaping prison and watched the skunk run along the same trail I was collecting rocks from, not a care in the world for my presence. I followed it from behind the fence until it disappeared.

I was so on edge because what the hell is it doing?? Why did it come back a second time? I ended up taking the risk and finished moving the rocks and by the time I got them all to the gate, I was about to take the first load in the wheelbarrow when I saw the skunk in the distance coming back a 3rd time. I had plenty of time to move so I hid behind the fence, watched him run along carefree. I just moved all the rocks to inside the gate and locked it up before making wheelbarrow trips and washed my hands of this bullying.

I have never in my life been bullied so hard by a wild animal. I yelled at the skunk the 3rd time it came back “why do you keep coming back” kinda hoping it’d stop and maybe scratch the ground on edge at me but it just ignored me and kept running along the trails. I am the skunks bitch.

I wonder if some people have this feeling that they're either having sort of...memories? from a past life, or even concurrent ones. I do. Several. And in at least one of them I'm/was mentally retarded. And this is very beautiful girl who loves me. I think she's my wife, and I've done some stupid things in the past and she would stand there and berate me for like 10 minutes while I'm staring at the void barely understanding a thing she says. I'm pretty sure we do the deed every now and then too. I can feel she loves me deeply, and there's something reassuring to her about the total lack of judgment from my part. I go even farther "off-grid" when we are intimate, if you know what I mean. Nothing in the world makes sense. Sometimes I hear my own voice and I don't know if I'm actually talking or not. Am I deaf or hard-of-hearing or something? I don't know. But I like doing chores like shoveling snow and blowing leaves as well as mowing the lawn. There's this pet I learned to feed. Even the pet knows to not rely on me for what it wants. The girl takes better care of him and all of us. She has a kid. I don't know if it's mine. The whole world is a blur.

The end.

I am currently on vacation. This story involves two people (fake names) Joel and his daughter Lily. Lily had ordered a peach iced tea which either of them had tried and joel ordered a beer. Joel wanted to try the tea and Lily said that If he wanted to try her tea she wanted to try his beer. He said sure. Lily is 10, he gave his 10 year old daughter beer cuz he wanted a sip of iced tea

so i confronted my dad about the woman. he denied it at first but eventually admitted he’d been seeing her for years.

my mom overheard the commotion. she asked what it was about we both stayed DEAD silent. my mom was already suspicious as if she already knew. my mom and dad gets into an argument over it and my dad packs his bags and leaves to sleep at a motel.

the next morning, i call my dad and he finally admitted it. he’d been paying for an apartment across town for years and visiting them while telling my mom he was working late or going fishing.

my mom was right by me when i called him. turns out she’d known about the woman for almost a year. she’d found messages on his ipad and confronted him privately. he’d promised her he would end it, and she’d kept quiet because he told her mom would never recover from it.
she’d been carrying this alone for a year.

i genuinely don’t know what happens now. my mom won’t speak to him, my sister is in utter disbelief after she found out, and my dad keeps texting me like we’re supposed to have a normal conversation.

the part i can’t get over is that i only found out because some random uber driver recognized my last name.
i still have his number in my ride history. haven’t deleted it.

not sure why. i guess i just keep thinking about how many other people knew before i did.

I work in a 6 floor apartment complex as a maintenance guy. Fixing leaky faucets, simple plumbing and electrical servicing, painting and doing repairs in suites after residents have moved out, stuff like that.

Now this particular Monday morning, I pooped before I left home. And as I was leaving home, I did not have any sensations of, “I am going to have to poop soon,” or “I still kinda have to poop.”

However, shortly after coming off the the highway exit to get to the building, a sensation came over me. By the time I was at the stop light, the threat was mounting. By the time I had turned into the parking lot, it was an emergency. It had to happen now.

At this point, I need to be in a bathroom immediately. I knew right where I wanted to go and I prioritized an empty suite I had worked in recently. 225.

I beelined across the parking lot for the bicycle entrance with urgency, a storage room on the corner of the building nearest my parking spot that only bicycle owners have access to from the inside or outside.

From there, I would go up the stairs right inside the just inside the building, dash down the second floor hallway, and get to 225 so I had privacy to poop in peace.

I get inside 225, and it’s a 2x bath unit. I check both bathrooms. No toilet paper. Oh no, I could have sworn I left a roll in here.

This is a problem. By this point, my butt is cramping from keeping those muscles engaged, holding the door closed with all my might.

Hold the door. Hol dador. Holdador. Holdor.
Hodor. Hodor. Hodor.

I dash to the elevator. But when I say “dash” it’s more like a penguin power walk.

There is another empty suite. 410. It’s the last room I was working in on Friday. I know there is toilet paper there. But when I get to the elevator, I accidentally hit the down arrow instead of the up arrow. So I quickly hit the other button.

Now, these elevators are kinda funny. They pick a direction based on whatever button you push on the wall, and prioritize that direction. So if I hit “down” first, the elevator that reaches me first will be prioritizing going down. Which means if I enter the elevator and hit floor 3 or up, it won’t register IF someone on the 1st floor is calling the elevator down at the same time. So if I’m on the 2nd and I want to go to the 4th but I step in an elevator called by me pressing the down button, and someone on the 1st floor is trying the use the elevator, I will have to ride down to the 1st floor first, and then ride the elevator back up to 4th with whoever just stepped on.

I could not look any other human in the eyes right now.

When I first entered the building, I took out an earbud and heard people down the hallway, near the entrance.

The likelihood of someone calling the elevator down was a gamble at this point. If the elevator doors fully close and I’m mashing the 4 button, I will still go up if no one has called it down.

So, here I am, 2nd floor elevator hall, with a butt pocket full of death and chaos. The elevator arrives. It has a down arrow illuminated. I roll the dice. I let it close. I hope and pray the second elevator is en route, prepared to receive me and chariot me to my throne.

I’m in luck. It arrives as the first elevators doors are closing. I see my guiding light, an illuminated arrow pointing up. 4th floor button pressed, followed by the “close door” button pressed with fervor, mashing it multiple times.

The doors open, I penguin power walk through the hallway, suite 410 in my sights. My master key finds the lock. I’m inside. I’m on the toilet. Toilet paper on the counter safely. And I release the beast.

I have not had to shit that bad in a really long time. Full blown poomergency. But today was a victory. Today is a day that will be remembered in the annals (anals 🤭) of history. One of triumph in the face of adversity. One of success.

Something a little fun about this whole experience though, is that on my way into work this morning, I was listening to music. I had found a 3+ hour Breaking Benjamin playlist. Mostly Breaking Ben with some other similar songs from that era. It’s a band I strongly associate with Halo, and I had spent several hours on Saturday playing the Halo CE remake with Breaking Ben playing.

And this was still playing on my ear the whole time I’m fighting for my life. So in an attempt to make the situation a little less stressful, I used my 🌟imagination🌟 to pretend I was fighting some enemy force, holding a line in battle against some overwhelming enemy. A crucial exit, a door, a bridge, some position I had to defend while bad guys attacked.

At the moment when all hope seemed lost, reinforcements arrived and the day was saved. I won’t say that it made the experience of my stupid asshole fighting to ferociously shit my pants “fun”, but at least more tolerable, if not a little more intense. I had various war faces on most of the time.

WARNING:

This is a story my father told me, so maybe I don't know all the details. But I still think it'd be interesting to share.

My father, who's now retired, worked for over 40 years in a large metalworking company, even becoming a shift manager. He had a friend there, whose son also started to work there. His son, who's now in in his late 30s, got hired when he was in his early 20s or something, and worked for about 15 years there. Let's call him Dennis for convenience (fake name, obviously). The managers appreciated his commitment and competence, so they entrusted him with the task of training the new, young employees, with whom he spent time during breaks. In his private life, he had a girlfriend.

About one or two years ago, a Chinese guy was hired, let's call him Ming, and placed under Dennis's responsibility. Suddenly though, after a few months, Ming handed in his resignation overnight. He asked my father to make him sign the papers, which was kind of unusual, because usually the responsible (in this case, Dennis) has to countersign it. My father even said that Ming was a bit in a hurry, because apparently he had found another job and had to sign the contract quickly.

Months later, one of his colleagues told him that Ming didn't actually found another job. Apparently, he resigned because Dennis had made explicit advances to him, leaving him shocked. My father was disturbed by this, but since he had no solid prooves and it was just a rumor he decided not to tell the bosses. I don't blame him, you can't just accuse a person of something based on a rumor, risking to put an innocent person in trouble.

More months later though, when my father had already retired (so he knew about the rest of the story from former colleagues), Ming eventually sued Dennis, and chaos exploded. It turned out that Dennis was a closeted bisexual and that, for years, he molested almost every new hire he was teaching. He even used to periodically cheat on his girlfriend with a ladyboy he had met in Thailand. Nor his parents, nor the bosses, nor his girlfriend knew anything about this. Plus, in the past, Dennis used to be a soccer coach in a team of teenagers. Nobody knows if he did anything there, but everybody hopes he didn't, for obvious reasons. Eventually, the company fired Dennis and also sued him, along with Ming. My father said that, after Dennis was fired, pretty much no one ever heard anything about him again.

In general, this person was clearly sick. But at least somebody has the guts to sue him. I hope more victims will decide to sue him too. And my father was also impacted by this, because we're talking about the son of a friend he had known for years. And from Dennis's parents' perspective, imagine finding out your son is a serial molester, it must be so devastating.

My friend was texting her through my phone and when the step dad found out he sent police to my house to accost me. Didn’t think much of it til friend tells me he’s in jail and what for.

I am the sailor, the ship, and the seas

The sailor stands out front, navigating as waves crash into his ship

The ship holds beneath him, strong, willing but only guided by the sailor

The sailor, strong, determined, and readily to be switched on at all times

He often grows tired of the people on his ship and often feels lonely

All while being surrounded by his crew, he sees the light in all of them, the pain, the suffering, the stories, the smiles, and frowns

But sometimes the sailor feels he is used like a worn rag, on days when the rain pours heavily his crew they grow angry at him

The sailor tries to reason and show patience because, after all, they are a part of his ship

But sometimes he feels they treat him unfairly they steal, they lie, they cheat.

However, the sailor he must navigate this. He has made his ship and now must move forward

The ship bellows beneath him, another thing the sailor must navigate

The ship is a part of him now. Without it, he would be a man stranded at sea

The ship to the sailor feels like his protector

It is steady for the most part

It represents the part of himself that he knows is sure, that he doesn't question, that feels like he is always a part of him

He stays true to the ship. In the ways he is true to himself

The seas

Most people would think the seas are not the sailor. They are not the ship

The seas are life

However, the sailor disagrees

The seas are also a part of him, he cant deny that yes, the seas are unpredictable, are changing, are wild and free

But then again, that will never change

Yes, there will be days when the seas are calm

But then to be followed by rough waves and scary storms

So the sailor has come to accept this part of himself, the part that knows there will be up days and down days

But for the most part, it's how he looks at it

If he judges the seas, hates it

It will still be untamable, unmanageable

However if he embraces the seas, as apart of him, apart of life

He manages them better, he works with instead of against

He knows with certainty that he has no control over this part

Only the way he perceives

I am a college student... I recently knew that one of my teacher (calculus teacher) is using A.I. to make all the questions and discussion, the teacher didn't even bother checking the things A.I. have put, some parts of the questions and discussions are just wrong or did not match, like there's this one time when the calculation of the teacher did not match the calculation of the A.I. and he said "let me double check this" And I saw him opening CHATGPT on his phone, after that, he just fricking copied the calculation of CHATGPT. I'm not an A.I. hater because I see A.I. as a way to make some activities faster and save time, but a teacher using A.I. to make everything in the class is just so messed up. It also spreads mis-information. Should I transfer in another school?

got an uber home last weekend and the driver recognized my last name. turns out he used to work with my dad years ago.

we’re chatting normally until he asks if my dad still goes fishing every other thursday.
i said yeah, pretty sure.

he goes “oh nice, is he still going with that woman from accounting?”
i laughed because i assumed he was joking.
he wasn’t...

apparently my dad has been telling my mom he’s going fishing with his buddies every other thursday for like 6 years.

the driver then showed me a photo of them all together at a christmas party. my dad was holding a baby. i have a 19 year old sister.
my parents have been married 24 years.

i got out of the car, went inside, and ate dinner with my family like nothing happened.
haven’t confronted him yet. honestly still processing the fact that my dad might have a whole second family and my uber driver was the one to break the news.

PS: gave the guy 5 stars because what the fuck else do you do in that situation

I was late, had to work a bit overtime to pay my bills. It was 10 at night, and the train was mostly empty. I sat in the last row.

My eyes were shutting on their own. My triceps were heavy, as if someone had put a hundred kilos on my arms. My legs felt as heavy as my school bag did when I was younger. My lower back was in so much pain that I just wanted to lay down on the seat, but how could I? My basic civic sense just wouldn't allow it. It's a public place, and anyone might want to sit there. I couldn't disturb them for something I could do at home. I can't steal their comfort just to ease my own pain. Unless they somehow want me to... lol.

The noise of the train honking, the sound of the wheels rolling on the tracks, someone scrolling their socials on loud volume, cars honking in the distance, and of course, my never-ending thoughts wouldn't let me sit quietly. It's their job to hurt my brain and test my patience. The rage I felt in that moment, if not controlled, could have ruined everyone's mood in there. So I sat quietly, looking out the window, while my eyes tried to shut themselves off and my body yearned for rest. I just sat there.

Then I heard the friction of the train stopping getting loud: I knew my station had come. So I stood up, my eyes closed halfway to a new moon. I stood near the door while the train yearned to stop. As it halted, the door opened with a creaking sound... obviously, what else do you expect from public transport. The dull yellow light flickered on the platform. Seats were lined perfectly, but near the dustbins, people had spat gutka and paan and made it dirty. Absolutely zero civic sense.

I got out of the train and walked to the exit. It was entirely empty at this time of night. This is the kind of aesthetic I used to imagine when I was a teen, and although it was still cool, as an adult it was painful. Back pain, every muscle in the grasp of exhaustion, mind in a state of depression. I used to think I would be a creative person earning through design, sketches, social media, and creative writing, but adulthood hit me hard as fuck. There's no proper pipeline for earning in the creative field, and I soon realised this was not for me. It was painful to imagine I couldn't do creative things, and so I took the only option I could see, became a corporate slave, paying taxes, working for the government, and not for self-relaxation.

And here I was, every inch of muscle aching as I reached the exit gate of the platform. Walking down the stairs, I looked up at the stars and could only think of one thing: How?... How did I end up In this situation?... Where did I mess up?... Did I lose my will to this unfair world?...

A group of three immortal beings from the year 3030 travel back in time to uncover ancient mystery’s. They are not able to go forward or backward in time from where they started but are able to reactive messages from the Future. This association is called WOT wings over time. The three immortals are set up in the year 4000 BCE on a satellite going around the earth. Sometimes this group has to go down for messages or ancient text but when they do they are able to control people by entering a mediation state called rattling through this they view the world through their othered eyes. As the time passes they have a constant flow of questions from the WOT but are able to deliver them back on time because they send it to the exact point they sent it.

Throughout the story they find out the WOT is not trying to find out what happens in the past but is really trying to rewrite the past to make sure people follow there form of dictatorship government and to make sure nobody is able to rise agiast them.

As Hermes realizes this he decides to go rogue leaving the ship and drift off into space. But during this time he control the minds of people through rattling and try’s to make sure all the events happen.

These three immortals were raised and experiments on WOT since they born. Their main purpose is to know how to rattle into people minds through mediation.
There names are and attributes are
Anansi
She is the cleaver one who takes the largest role in reporting back to the WOT and dosnt want to deny any of there beliefs

Hermes
He a charm to the group through meditating with the others by telling story’s. He is also the one that is shown to be the best at rattling along with him being the one that goes down the most. But one day he go rouge and leave everyone.

Indra
This character is the leader of the group based on the design of the WOT. But she also has a secret dark purpose being told that she wasn’t just sent to be a story messenger but was also told of the true purpose of the WOT. There her mission is to make sure that everyone keeps their place in order. Being promised any wish she wants when she returns. Her wish is to not be immortal but it turns out that’s not possible.

Imagine going trick-or-treating dressed as a witch, a ghost, or a monster... only to discover that a mysterious spell has turned everyone into the very thing they're dressed as!

📖 **In this illustrated Halloween story:** Discover a world where Halloween costumes are more than just dress-up, magic is afoot, and an ordinary Halloween night becomes something extraordinary!

Https://youtu.be/cE-lHS0GIqg?is=-K3iZxf2vh3ImDvS

So yeah basically the title. Im a tattoo artist and we have been together 5 years. Initially she didn't care if I did tattoos from the house or who I did them on. But I will admit I cheated on her. It was literally only once with one client. Ever since then she has been bat shit crazy and doesn't want me doing female clients at all and doesn't want me doing tats in the house . This all came out and started abt 2 years ago . I'll admit she has tried to leave me but I always am able to get her back . Anyways we have had an ongoing issue with me doing females tattoos. It got to the point when they would come over she would be so rude and run them off . So I stopped doing females tattoos for a while (unless I have time and she is not at the house to know ) I have a main job and make enough to live comfortably tattoos are just a side hustle. Well she went to go to her families for a family reunion a couple weeks ago and I had my home boy and his new gf over . I did a tat on her side . My bm/girlfriend found out and went absolutely ballistic. I told her she was tripping and needs to get over it and that I did nothing wrong. She then stops crying and says yk what? Do as many bitches tats as you want . Tell them to enjoy that ' Spink ' . I was like wtf is Spink? She just started laughing . Then she said she knew I've been doing this behind her back and lying and she hopes everyone enjoys their Spink. All I can assume is spit in the ink? Could it mean something else ? She won't speak anymore abt it and is acting weirdly calm. I threw out the ink but now idk if it's safe for me to do tats anymore . I love her with all my heart and I fuck up sometimes and that is part of life. I'm really starring to think she is a cold hearted unforgiving psycho.

Edit: I'm not saying she for sure did and I don't see her actually ever doing something like that but, it's just a bit far to even say or put in my mind . Literally threw away 3/4 a bottle of ink cuz she won't clarify what that meant or speak to me. Ik she is mad so I'm giving her space but she needs to learn how to communicate and not play mind games .

I wanted to talk about happened when i went to delhi for an exam few days back. I stayed in my old pg. The last time i had went there last month, i had stayed with a one friend who has a single room and not in sharing. He told me that he felt like something was missing from his daily routine, although he did everything same from night routine to morning one, he felt like something was missing, coz he might have just developed a habit of staying alone. I caught that as his intention to state his discomfort with me staying in his room. So this time i avoided that. I asked 2 other friends from before but they had gone home due to festival season. Now there was noone i knew from before other than people i might have interacted just a handfull of times. So i asked them now. It felt so odd to ask people for permission to stay, requesting them for this favour. That place had been my home for so long. I have seen a time where i had multiple rooms where i could just stay as long as i wanted and noone would question my presence. I got a place on conditional bases that the guys roommate might come back. I stayed, it was ok. But on night before my exam, that guy had his first year anniversary of dating his gf and said he wanted the room. I took all my stuff and left. Standing in the hallway is felt so bad, not knowing which room would welcome me now. Coincidentally, a guy i had met just the previous day, coz he was the roommate of a guy i had met twice, mainly in my last visit and was familiar with, asked why i had my bag in hand in middle of night and where i was going. I said i was going downstairs too (lied) and told him what had happened in the room (oh, when i had nocked the door to the room i was staying in earlier, the guy has greeted me half naked, so i know he was getting freaky on call with his gf). I went downstairs, and said I'll sit in the hall and study, he asked if i was sure and i said i am. The guy told his roommate (the guy you can say I'm friends with somewhat) that i was outside. He came to ask if everything's ok, i said to just leave the door open in case i have to use the bathroom in the morning before leaving. He said but where will you sleep, i said on the sofa in the hall. He got a sorrowful charge up, like what!? Why would you sleep in the hall!? I'll find a room for you. He asked around and found me a room in minutes. I went with him and he pointed out and asked why i seemed so "sehma sehma" and it didn't seem like me. I was on verge of tears at this point coz his act of finding a room had touched me deeply and it broke my courageous face of indifferent to feeling unwanted in a place i called home. He left for few minuted seeing i wanted space to gather myself. We went to smoke afterwards, it was fine after that. But i again felt super bad and couldn't study a word when i finally got alone. I called an old friend (elder brother figure) from before, cried to him and told him everything at 2:30. Talked for almost an hour and was finally able to console myself. The other day i was dead tired when i came from the exam center. Didn't sleep last night because of the events and was exhausted by the travel and exam pressure. I became unconscious (literally) for like an hour without knowing when after i had came to pg until someone woke me. I didn't even know where i was who i was and had to ask which date it is i am waking up on because of the sorry state my mind was in. Previously, if i was half this tired, i would have stayed another night there to gather my strength and return the next day. I thought of doing that but something in me just didn't want to anymore. I told that guy (who got me a room) that I'll leave. We went to get chai and a smoke, then i said my goodbye and left. He asked that i still haven't told him what happened last night, i told him everything now coz it femt easier to do after i had already narrated the whole thing once before, and he said he had an incling that thats the reason. I left, and got home very late 1:30 a.m. by bus. 4 hrs travel. I slept sitting upright somehow during the ride

When I was nine, my parents relocated our family to Alabama. They went to the house a week before I did while I stayed with my cousins to be out of the way during the process.

My cousins drove me to the new home. After we explored the inside of the house, we ventured outside to check out the yard. We noticed some strange stones in the woods next to the house and walked closer to check them out.

They were headstones. It was a long-forgotten graveyard in the woods next to my home. Many of the headstones were dated to the mid 1800s and there were a lot of children buried there.

Needless to say, my parents were shocked when we told them they bought a house next to a graveyard.

From that point on, anytime something strange happened in that home, my mom would joke that it was the Cotton Street Ghost up to shenanigans. Whenever her friends asked her what it was like living next to a graveyard, she always said, “They’re the best neighbors ever. They’re so quiet and never complain.”

But they weren’t always quiet and strange things happened from time to time.

The first time I had a boyfriend during Valentine’s Day, he gave me a foil ballon in the shape of a heart that said, “I love you,” on one side of it.

When I say that balloon would follow me through the house, I’m not exaggerating. Up and down the stairs, to each room…….it followed me. I told Mom and she just said it was the Cotton Street Ghost and laughed and said I had quite an imagination.

But then, while I was at school, it followed HER around the house. She didn’t dare tell me about it. I overheard her telling Dad about it. It was satisfying knowing it wasn’t just me.

And this happened any time we had a balloon in the house.

One night when I was visiting my parents when I was in college, I got home late. I was changing into my pajamas when a music box started playing on its own in my bedroom. The music box was inside of a teddy bear of mine. “Playmate, come out and play with me and bring your Dollie’s three, climb up my apple tree,”——yeah, THAT SONG.

I told my parents about it the next morning and Mom reminded me that there are a lot of children buried next door. Then she laughed again at me.

It became a family joke. Mom and Dad would tease me about it………until………it happened to Mom with a different music box. She was up late playing on the computer in the spare bedroom when a music box in the closet started playing.

“Who’s the crazy one now?” I remember saying that to her.

Other than music boxes and balloons, not too many other things happened in that house while I was growing up. Sometimes things would get knocked off of shelves with no explanation. Sometimes we’d hear footsteps. No major issues though.

But then, I had a family of my own. One night when we were visiting my parents, my son saw something in their hallway. He screamed and never did anything like that before. He couldn’t explain what he saw. He was too little.

I knew what he saw though: the Cotton Street Ghost.

About a year ago, I met a woman at a bar. She was beautiful, quiet, and strangely interested in me. We talked for hours, and eventually, I went back to her apartment.

Everything seemed normal. We kissed, spent the night together, and fell asleep.

At around 3 AM, I woke up because I felt someone touching my face.

It was her.

She was sitting beside the bed, staring at me.

I laughed nervously and asked, “What are you doing?”

She whispered, “Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you were still breathing.”

I thought she was joking, so I pulled her back into bed.

A few minutes later, I heard her phone vibrating on the nightstand. She got up to answer it, but I could hear her whispering from the bathroom.

Then I heard my own name.

I couldn’t make out the rest of the conversation.

When she came back, I pretended to be asleep.

She lay down beside me and whispered, “He looks exactly like the last one.”

My entire body went cold.

I waited until morning before asking her what she meant.

She smiled, poured me some coffee, and said, “You should leave.”

I got dressed immediately.

As I reached the front door, I noticed a framed photograph on a shelf. It showed her standing beside a man who looked almost exactly like me.

Same face. Same hairstyle. Even the same small scar above the eyebrow.

I turned to ask her about it.

She was standing behind me.

“That was my husband,” she said.

I stared at the photograph. “Was?”

She nodded.

“He died in this apartment.”

I asked how.

She looked directly into my eyes.

“He woke up in the middle of the night and realized I wasn’t the woman he thought I was.”

I didn’t wait for another explanation. I ran out of the apartment and never contacted her again.

Three days later, I received a message from an unknown number.

It contained a photograph of me sleeping in her bed.

Underneath it were six words:

“You forgot to check under the bed.”

I blocked the number.

But here’s the part that still makes me sick.

When I got home that night, I found a muddy footprint on the floor beside my bed.

It was facing toward me.

And I live alone.

Let me set the stage: It is late June 2025. I am D, a local stand up comic with just under 2 years of experience.  

Only one of the two local comedy clubs allowed me in their summer competition in 2025. I lost in the second round in a heart breaking way. I went number three of nine, the first and second person more or less bombed in front of a tight, cold crowd. But I broke it open and the show was rocking by the time I left the stage 5 minutes later. A local pro/headliner (we will call him N) came to me unprompted and said “That was great you popped the cork, and the crowd is into it now”.

Fast forward an hour later and the host is announcing the top 4 that will move on. When they called the name of the runner up I looked at who was left and thought “I did better than everyone else left, I think I won!”. Then the host said over the mic “and the winner of the night is… S!”

I was crushed, N came to me and said “I don’t know if this means anything but you should be up there. There is no way you were not one of the top 4 tonight.” But I left with my head up, keeping in mind that everyone saw me do great and the competition is kind of just filler for the slow summer season. “They will remember D now!” I told myself. They did not, in fact this is the last time I was able to perform at that club in 2025.

The “other club” gave me 2 short spots on their amateur night in 2025. One of those spots I again went in front of a cold crowd and murdered! A few people told me to talk to “other club’s” owner and ask for more time on stage. When I talked to “other club’s” owner he told me “enter my competition” the one I did not get in for the last two years and doesn’t start for another 10 months. He did not say f off, but it’s what I heard.

The first half of 2026 was hard. I was forgotten by both clubs and I scrambled to get what I could. After a gut check I decided not to quit my little hobby and to start doing the harder stuff. So I started running my own charity shows and took any chance that I was given to get on stage.

Somehow most of the community did not notice me getting better. So in July when I somehow got into the “other club’s” competition, I was ready. I told the people at work all day that they had no idea what they were about to see. Reports came in that the show was sold out and I would stand in front of 130 people that night.

I felt lost getting there, reporting in and getting a pep talk from “other club’s” owner (who did not remember me). But once the show started I knew what to do. Countless crap open mics in front of people who hated me made this the easy part!

I jumped on the stage and grabbed the mic and waited for a count of 5. I just stared at the crowd… My first joke was five words .The crowd popped! I had them. In fact, I needed to cut a few jokes on the fly to stay in my time since they took  so much time laughing.

Every comic in the house found me after the show and told me I had a great set. One comic said I was "undeniable". But life is not a fairy tale… yes I killed in front of a hot crowd, but the judges said that two others killed more and I took 3rd place of the 9 on that night. 

Still, I proved that I am funny and that I should get more chances and that’s the win I was looking for. It’s been 3 months since then and I now need to turn shows down since I'm so busy. 

This story is only a bump in the grind that is stand-up. I’m good for an open mic’er sure, but there are bigger hills ahead.

I (26F) just found out my boyfriend (29M) has been using ChatGPT to analyze our sex life for TWO MONTHS and I genuinely don’t know what the fuck to do with this information.
We’ve been together almost 3 years.
Our sex life was always fine. Nothing crazy. But lately? Holy shit.
Suddenly he’s giving massages, trying new things, actually paying attention to what I like. Even his dirty talk got better. Which is impressive because he used to sound like a 14-year-old trying to imitate porn.
I thought he was just putting in more effort.
Nope.
Yesterday he went to shower and left his laptop open. I saw an Excel file called “Bedroom Performance Optimization Q4.”
Obviously I clicked.
Guys.
THERE WAS A FUCKING SPREADSHEET OF MY ORGASMS.
Dates. Positions. Duration. My reactions. And a column called “Estimated Satisfaction Probability.”
One entry said “Positive vocal response detected. Estimated success rate: 87%.”
POSITIVE VOCAL RESPONSE????
I WAS MOANING, NOT LEAVING A FUCKING YELP REVIEW.
And then I noticed another tab.
“Competitor Analysis.”
I clicked it.
MY EX BOYFRIEND WAS IN THERE.
Apparently two years ago, when I was drunk, I mentioned that my ex was really good at going down on me.
THIS MAN REMEMBERED THAT SHIT FOR TWO YEARS.
There was a note saying “Primary objective: outperform previous partner.”
WHAT THE FUCK 😭
My ex is literally a business competitor now.
Then I found his goals for next quarter.
Increase sex frequency by 25%.
Improve dirty talk.
Achieve consistent 9/10 satisfaction.
“Eliminate competitor advantage.”
BRO WHAT COMPETITOR ADVANTAGE??? ARE YOU PLANNING A HOSTILE TAKEOVER OF MY EX’S DICK???
He came out of the shower and saw me staring at his laptop.
I asked what the actual fuck I was looking at.
And this man goes “Okay but you have to admit it’s working.”
I said WHY ARE YOU PUTTING OUR SEX LIFE INTO CHATGPT???
He said “It’s mostly just performance data.”
PERFORMANCE DATA.
ABOUT MY VAGINA.
I asked why he couldn’t just talk to me like a normal fucking person.
He said he wanted “unbiased feedback.”
FROM CHATGPT????
SIR THAT THING HAS NEVER TOUCHED A TIT.
And the worst fucking part is…
IT IS WORKING.
The sex has genuinely been amazing lately.
So now I’m sitting here wondering if I should dump him for being a complete fucking weirdo or ask to see the Q1 roadmap.
Because apparently my pussy has quarterly growth targets now.

Not too long ago I ran over a packet of ketchup and it exploded all over this lady. She screamed like she got shot. I reversed out of the parking spot and left.