Gun room ideas

I'm currently in a long-distance relationship with a guy I met on a dating app a year ago. He's from Lebanon but lives in Texas, and I'm from New York. We haven't met in person yet, but we talk to each other on video calls. When we first met, I asked him if the distance would be an issue, and he said let's not rush things and see if we're compatible first. I agreed, and we started talking. I thought we'd talk for a month or two and then meet in person, but that didn't happen. I have offered to visit him many times in the past, but he always says no because he works 7 days a week and has no time to hang out with me. It's tough for him since he's an immigrant and he’s not legally authorized to work here in the US, in spite of the fact that he has a bachelor's degree in law. As a result, his job options are limited to working off the books. He's a receptionist in an apartment complex, and the sole provider for his family. He lives with his parents and younger brother, and his parents don't speak much English, making it difficult for them to find work. I've asked him several times if I could fly over to Texas and see him, but he always says no. We've been together for almost a year now, and being away from him is getting increasingly more and more difficult. He told me 3 months into the relationship that he would try to find a job here in New York and move north, but it’s been months since then and I’m starting to loose hope. We’ve been together for at least a year now and he hasn’t made any progress with finding a job up north, and I truly have no idea what the future holds for us. In the beginning when we first met I had no idea that a year later I’d still be waiting to meet him for the first time. I’d just like to get a frame of reference for how often couples in a long distance relationship should be seeing each other in person so I can figure out whether or not this will be sustainable in the longer term. How often do you visit your partner?
Edit: For those of you who asked, I am half white, half Indian. My dad is white and my mom is Indian, they met online. I was born and raised in America. There are some cultural similarities between India and Lebanon, but there are also differences as well.
Edit: I would also like to add that both his family and mine are Christian.
Edit: Also I should add that he and his family live in a small apartment and he shares a room with his brother.

TW: Talk of ShapeShifters and Mutilated Animals

Last night I woke up at least 7 times, and EVERY time I fell back asleep I had a different nightmare. I can only readily remember two at this point, but they were probably some of the most eerie and disturbing nightmares I've had.

1. I was looking at the sliding glass door at the back of my parents house. Just sitting there staring out of it. It was night time. I was alone. The whole time I had a horrible gut-dropping, dreadful feeling that I KNEW something horrible/dangerous was about to come through those doors.

The second I remember:

2. I was back in my childhood bedroom, and was focused on the cage of the rats I used to have. One of my rats was looking at me through the bars like they used to do. I went over to look inside. The first time I looked, and they were both just in there in the corner sleeping. I looked away and came back, and saw the bloody skin of one of my rats layed out behind the two, and looked back at the two creatures laying there. One was my rat, the other was a tiny white baby goat curled up sleeping. I touched it and it woke up. I picked it up, and it stared right in my eyes and I got this horrible feeling as it started squirming in my hands. It was almost like it was screaming, but not making sound. Then as it stared in my eyes, its own eyes started to change. They morphed into these slightly bigger, glowing yellow green eyes with a horizontal slit across the middle. It stopped moving for a second and stared at me. I remember feeling unnerved but too confused to think of what to do next. Then it started thrashing and attacking me. I dropped it and it bounced and ran all around the room until it started heading for the cat door, and I forgot how scared I was and thought about how distraught I would feel if it escaped and my dogs tore it to shreds. So I told it that I didn't want that to happen, and it bounced around attacking me again for a while. Until I said "if you really want to leave that bad let me open the window". When I opened the window it flew out into my neighbor's backyard. The backyard had construction workers in it working on the house, and I watched it morph into one of the construction workers and walk around the back corner of my neighbor's house out of sight. Staring at me until the last moment. Then my childhood cat(who in real life has been deceased for a few years) caught my attention on the floor(he also was at one point the other, not flayed, rat in the cage). I tried to pick him up, but he also wriggled. I dropped him, thinking he was going to do the same thing as the baby goat. But he looked at me and had this weird morphed human face. I looked around for a second like "wtf" and went back to look put the window. The "cat" started talking to me. He comes up to the window next to me and is now a human. He dissappears from view and continues talking. He's telling me about a group of people that have been looking for that creature that went out the window. He said we should talk to them, and get them to check it out. But he was trying to think of a made up story to tell them, and said "No, that just sounds fake. I don't know what we should say". And I said "How about we just tell them what actually happened???" And he goes "Oh yeah... That could work" and then I wake up..........

Like I said, these weren't the only two nightmares I had last night. There were a lot. They're just the only ones stuck in my head enough that I haven't forgotten them. They were so incredibly eerie that I have no clue how my brain even came up with them??? Any idea on some sort of meaning in all of this?

Forgive me if the formatting is weird or something, I've lurked on Reddit for awhile but just started using it. I put needs support as I'm looking for advice and reassurance but I have difficulty making bonds and communicating with people so I'm sorry if I don't respond to attempts to reach out. I just thought I'd have better luck finding someone who can give advice than if I put venting. But if I used this incorrectly I'm happy to remove it.
I'm 29m, unemployed but I'm currently living in my parents house so expenses are minimal, but the sense of guilt is pretty high.
I have this vague sense of anxiety and loneliness all the time. My mind spirals out of control over any unpleasant thought to the point I'm not always sure what's real. I want to have people around me and feel loved, and cared for, and valued, but I also just can't stand being around people. Same problem with always wanting physical contact. It's like why can't we just have a full conversation that's deep and meaningful and makes me feel cared for while being held by someone that loves me, but at the same time not have anyone else in the room or even earshot of me. I really hate talking to people.
I'm always scared of every thing and it limits my ability to do things including leaving the house or in some cases my bedroom. And the depression is so bad I just kind of always want to give up just a little literally all the time.
I get angry or annoyed easily and sometimes I just have these little outbursts that I can't control and don't remember. Not like violent or crossing a line. But like a teenager yelling "you don't care about me!" When they're feeling overwhelmed. Which I guess is just me feeling overwhelmed kind of always.
My girlfriend of about a year and a half and I have been kind of drifting apart lately, In the sense that were always arguing about something stupid, usually her mom being unfair to us. She just kind of wants to deal with it but her mom always says things to target me. And I can't control it I just start shit. The other night she told her mom we were arguing and she was considering ending the relationship. Her mom jumped on board and they had a long talk about why she should. This is shortly after the mom banned me from the house for texting her when she'd be home so I knew if we could go to my sister's rehearsal dinner or not. I was overly polite. Her mom is now making her feel uncomfortable for choosing not to break up with me.
I'm also not entirely sure she's really not going to break up with me, things have been different between us since her mom started making her feel uncomfortable. But I have a hard time with intrusive thoughts so I have no idea if it's really her mom, or her, or why she's even trying to stay with me. And talking to her about it is difficult, mostly because she's stressed and doesn't want to. I'm trying to get her some space but it's just so hard, especially knowing her only housemate is against our relationship and vocal about it.
I can't stand being alone. This is unrelated to the girlfriend. I just can't take being by myself or the idea that one day I'll be living on the streets with no way to support myself because of my mental health. I have a cat, her name is Beetle. Beetle is the only thing that really brings me any joy in life these days. I don't get along with my family. I'm ruining my one real human connection. I don't have a job or hobbies to bring me any joy and I just can't manage to bring myself to do or stay with any activity. And Ive had jobs before, but since COVID and the stress of some new family developments, my mental health is so bad I don't know if I can hold down a job. Made worse by my last job, I was fired for not wanting to make outbound sales calls, which as an analyst was outside the scope of my position anyway.
I've tried therapy many times and I know the root of many of my problems, but not how to fix it them. And I've yet to find a therapist who can help with that. I've also been on many medications. I take Adderall and Ambien daily currently, but I've been on SSRIs and antianxiety meds in the past with very little success.
I'm not "looking for a way out". But I just feel so trapped and bad all the time. The constant need to feel not alone, but the inability and distain for talking to people. The fact I can't just happy, always spiralling from any intrusive thought, even stuff that doesn't matter. I just ruin everything I touch and idk if I can even really feel bonds with people. I'm stuck. I can't do anything. And I just don't want to feel this way anymore.
Thank you for letting me vent, and please, if you have any suggestions or thoughts, let me know. I want to get better and be normal, so desperately.

TW: Talk of ShapeShifters and Mutilated Animals

Last night I woke up at least 7 times, and EVERY time I fell back asleep I had a different nightmare. I can only readily remember two at this point, but they were probably some of the most eerie and disturbing nightmares I've had.

1. I was looking at the sliding glass door at the back of my parents house. Just sitting there staring out of it. It was night time. I was alone. The whole time I had a horrible gut-dropping, dreadful feeling that I KNEW something horrible/dangerous was about to come through those doors.

The second I remember:

2. I was back in my childhood bedroom, and was focused on the cage of the rats I used to have. One of my rats was looking at me through the bars like they used to do. I went over to look inside. The first time I looked, and they were both just in there in the corner sleeping. I looked away and came back, and saw the bloody skin of one of my rats layed out behind the two, and looked back at the two creatures laying there. One was my rat, the other was a tiny white baby goat curled up sleeping. I touched it and it woke up. I picked it up, and it stared right in my eyes and I got this horrible feeling as it started squirming in my hands. It was almost like it was screaming, but not making sound. Then as it stared in my eyes, its own eyes started to change. They morphed into these slightly bigger, glowing yellow green eyes with a horizontal slit across the middle. It stopped moving for a second and stared at me. I remember feeling unnerved but too confused to think of what to do next. Then it started thrashing and attacking me. I dropped it and it bounced and ran all around the room until it started heading for the cat door, and I forgot how scared I was and thought about how distraught I would feel if it escaped and my dogs tore it to shreds. So I told it that I didn't want that to happen, and it bounced around attacking me again for a while. Until I said "if you really want to leave that bad let me open the window". When I opened the window it flew out into my neighbor's backyard. The backyard had construction workers in it working on the house, and I watched it morph into one of the construction workers and walk around the back corner of my neighbor's house out of sight. Staring at me until the last moment. Then my childhood cat(who in real life has been deceased for a few years) caught my attention on the floor(he also was at one point the other, not flayed, rat in the cage). I tried to pick him up, but he also wriggled. I dropped him, thinking he was going to do the same thing as the baby goat. But he looked at me and had this weird morphed human face. I looked around for a second like "wtf" and went back to look put the window. The "cat" started talking to me. He comes up to the window next to me and is now a human. He dissappears from view and continues talking. He's telling me about a group of people that have been looking for that creature that went out the window. He said we should talk to them, and get them to check it out. But he was trying to think of a made up story to tell them, and said "No, that just sounds fake. I don't know what we should say". And I said "How about we just tell them what actually happened???" And he goes "Oh yeah... That could work" and then I wake up..........

Like I said, these weren't the only two nightmares I had last night. There were a lot. They're just the only ones stuck in my head enough that I haven't forgotten them. They were so incredibly eerie that I have no clue how my brain even came up with them??? Any idea on some sort of meaning in all of this?

I'd say overall people are happy with the changes to buffing marked room loot. BSG should continue this trend and buff rooms like Green, blue, red, Kiba, & ultra med.
Blue and red room are abysmal. Blue keycard goes for 20-28mil and the best thing youll get is a single stim (and thats if you get lucky looting one of the two containers inside the room). Why make a key so rare to have it be so shit? either buff the loot or make it drop a lot more or both.
Red has no guns inside of it despite being an arsenal room, the shelf is absolutely barren, the ammo that spawn inside next to the door is god awful, and youre lucky to even get one dynamic spawn. this used to be the best keycard/ key in the entire game. You can get better stuff from just scavving streets once instead of paying ~60 mil for the key, youll make more than quadruple the amount of money hitting the room once. Watch pestilys opening red room 100 times video, if i did a raid today if i saw that much stuff spawn in there id either shit myself or think the game was bugged
green is Ok but could use a bit of a buff. Occasionally ill find it near empty which shouldnt be happening to a key that goes from 40-60m. Sanitars room across the hallway can even have better stuff sometimes and that key goes for dirt cheap comparatively. Would be nice to see intel spawn in this room more, same with red room.
Kiba overall is decent, maybe some more armor on the mannequins, maybe add altyns as a rare spawn on them. Youd sooner get struck by lightning than find one on a boss or in a stash, so it would be nice to have a place to get an alright chance to get one. As for the gun and attachment spawns id say they're acceptable as is.
Violet Yellow and Black are fine and they should be left alone, managers could get buffed a little but its not that important
By buffing the rooms you'd encourage people to actually rush and fight over good / valuable loot, plus it wouldnt make these keys a complete waste of money, and it would actually be exciting to see something good inside for once

BE SUPER CAREFUL AFTER FFS. I returned home last Tuesday exactly a week after FFS and everything was great. Had my staples and stitches removed that morning, doctor said everything was great and my scars seemed to be healing better than most ( they were caked in 1/4in of aquaphor the whole time).
So we’re on the way home from the airport in the car. I turned my head and ever so gently and tapped the staple section of my head scar on the adjustable part of the seat belt. Didn’t think much of it - I barely felt it.
2 hours later I’m crying from a hematoma that formed on my head, the blood is going all the way along my forehead scar to the other stapled side of my head and all of a sudden I GUSH blood across my room from one of the staple scars. I’m crying like crazy, have no idea what to do so we go to the emergency room.
By the time I get there, an entire bath towel is flooded with blood almost and it’s now shooting out both sides of my head where there were staples!
That was 9 days ago and it cost me $500 and I still have a golf ball sized hematoma on my head and 2 open wounds that won’t seem to heal. I was finally getting going again, but spent 3 more days in bed and have delayed going out in public due to the globs of aquaphor I’m now putting in the sides of my head.
I’m wondering if the holes in my head will ever grow hair again. My stitch scars are already growing hair back.
Moral of the story: BE SUPER CAREFUL AND DONT BE LIKE ME.

I’m smashed right now, drunk as hell, with a shit-full of emotions gyrating about my head. My mind space is a concoction of fear and anger. For the past four hours I’ve drank Vodka and orange juice, Vodka and cranberry juice, and finally, Vodka and grape juice. That’s a load of Screwdrivers, Cosmopolitans, and whatever the hell you call Vodka and grape juice- well, maybe I’ll make up my own name- the Crystal Room. Ok, that’s dumb, but whatever, it’s the Crystal Room that’s on my mind right now.
I had to drank myself sloppy just to have the courage to write down my experience. I hope to get all the details straight and not stray too far from the truth.
In 2001 the wife and I went to New York city. Surprisingly, I loved it, except for my final days there. A southerner in New York. I got the worst asinine advice and general characterizations from my buddies at work. One was, “Hey, don’t stare at anybody on the subway. They don’t like being stared at.” Well, who the hell does. I don’t want to live in a city where the people like being stared at. Creepy, if otherwise.
The people were genuinely nice. I never had any issues with anyone on the subway, but then again, I didn’t just sit there staring at people like they were exotic animals in a zoo.
Next to the last day of our vacation we visited Times Square. I was intrigued by the constant action, the incessant visual and auditory stimuli. There was so much to see and so much to hear. My mind was scattered and unable to focus. There were flashing lights, advertisements, and the constant blur of nameless faces and mindless crowds. I was enjoying it, but also a little overwhelmed. I asked my wife if we could go back to the hotel, but she wasn’t ready to end the day. She assured me that she was quite capable of taking care of herself.
“Honey, just go back to the hotel. I won’t be much longer. I can take care of myself.”
“You sure? I can tough it out.”
“No, go. Please, I’ll be fine.”
I walked to the nearest subway station and rode back to our hotel, which was at the end of the line in Flushing, Queens. When I got to our hotel I slumped down in the bed and immediately fell asleep; I was exhausted. I woke up around three in the morning, the bed empty beside me. I picked up my cell phone and called her but got no answer. There was a text message:
Honey, meet me at the Crystal Rose Room. It’s just down the street from the hotel.
The time on the message was 2:00 am.
I remembered the place. It stood out among all the other crowded storefronts, with a large neon sign of a scantily dressed woman holding a red rose. What was my wife doing at a strip club? She was a regular churchgoer, never missing and always insisting I go with her. Something didn’t seem quite right.
I got dressed and hurried down to the club. I tried to bull my way through but the bouncer pushed me back, shoving his large open palm into my chest.
“No sir. Only invited guests are allowed.”
“I got a text from my wife. She’s inside.”
“What’s her name?”
“Catherine Bressler.”
“Ah, hell yeah, Mr. Bressler. Come on in. We’ve been expecting you.”
The courteous welcome shocked me, considering that a moment before he was ready to stomp me into the ground. In a flash of a moment, I went from being a nuisance to a highly regarded guest of honor. I walked through the front door and into the past. It was an old-fashioned cabaret with the waitresses dressed in flapper beaded dresses and floral headbands. They were all wearing outlandishly large pearl necklaces. There was a pianist playing ragtime music, with a boisterous horn ensemble. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. My eyes were watering, but I felt eerily comfortable, like this was where I truly belonged.
On the center stage, dressed in a tight, short flapper dress, was my wife Catherine. She was dancing as if in a trance. A man walked up on the stage and started kissing her. My wife seemed to be enjoying it, enjoying it immensely. I ran up to the front of the stage.
“Hey dammit, get your hands off my wife.”
The man stopped, turned his gaze towards me, and smiled. His mouth was full of yellow, jagged teeth, encrusted with a thick layer of plaque. My wife looked at me and smiled, revealing a similar set of teeth, smaller, but no less hideous.
“I could no longer live a lie. I want my old life back and I know you will too,” she said to me.
“Catherine let’s get out of here. This isn’t funny. I don’t like this.”
“But baby, I do.”
Two men grabbed me and dragged me to one of the back rooms. They pointed a gun at me and shoved me in wooden chair. They turned the lights out and walked out of the room. I tried to run and grab the doorknob before they locked it, but I was too late. I heard a mechanical whirling and a pink light overhead was turned on. I couldn’t see where the light was coming from, whether it was a lamp or a fixture in the ceiling. It almost seemed mystical, coming from an unknown source. The room now looked like I was inside a diamond, with a rigid crystalline structure.
There were a thousand reflections of myself walking through the many faces of the crystal, independent of my own motions. They were alive in themselves, more than a mere reflection. One of them called out to me, “It’s time to come back to your true self.” He smiled, with an impressive row of sharp teeth, more immaculate, and more regal than what the groping stranger and my wife had. My reflection stepped out of the crystal and onto the plain hard wood floor, progressing slowly towards me, with his hands raised, the nails of which were long and sharp. The closer he got, the paler his skin grew. He was dressed in a black suit, with a collarless vest, and bowtie. Atop his head was straw boater hat.
He grabbed me by the throat and as his cold rigid hands touched me, I had a vision of a bygone life filled with murder and debauchery. I killed and drank, lapping up the warm, copper-tinged blood of many hapless victims. In my past life I was a monster, a man willing to kill anyone, constantly thirsting for blood, never satisfied.
“You trapped me here, but I knew Catherine could never stay away. I knew the memories would come back, the thrill and the passion of it all would well up in her soul again.”
I fought back, pushing him away, but he lounged back at me, grabbed my wrist, and bit into the side of my hand. I could feel the pressure of his mouth tighten as he sucked in as much blood as he could. His white skin began to fill with color. I punched at his head, knocking his hat to the ground.
“Damn you. That’s a nice hat. Don’t fight. I am who you are and you are me. There’s no escaping.”
I noticed that now there were many different people, or monsters, in the crystals. They were no longer my own reflection. They all looked hideous and weak, trapped in a purgatory by their own better selves.
He lunged at me again, but this time he flew at me head first. I dodged him and as he came closer to the opposite wall of the crystal room, he yelled in exasperation, holding his hand out to avoid hitting his head against the wall. His hand was engulfed by the wall, submerged up to his elbow. He was laying on his stomach.
“No. Pull me out. Don’t do this. Don’t you want to be a god again. The power. The power.”
I knew what I had to do at that point. He had revealed too much. I put my hands on his ass and pushed the rest of his body through the crystalline wall. He appeared on the other side of the crystal wall, banging with his fists, and pleading to let him out.
“You son of a bitch. You’ll be back. You can try to deny what you are, but the thirst and hunger is always there. It might be buried deep, but it’s always there, and soon you’ll miss your… or, should I say our Catherine.”
All around the room were trapped souls, damned vampiric souls, waiting for their better halves to come to their senses and embrace the darkness that was once an innate part of their existence, boldly committing to the passion of murder and gluttony.
They were screeching and hollering for release. I wanted to get out of the room. Visions of who I used to be were displayed across the crystal. I remembered who I was and when I was born. It was over a hundred years ago. I thirsted, I hungered. I killed and destroyed families, mostly preying on the weak and then there she was- Catherine. A murderer fell in love. I couldn’t kill her, even though my stomach felt empty and my hunger was uncontrollable. I bit her, but not to kill, only to bring her into my world to be with me forever. She hated me for that and then I found the Rose Crystal Room. I wanted to give her back a normal existence. A killer felt guilty. We gave up the demons, but at a price. One day, we would have to come back, and once again don the cloak of a murderer, but this time in his service, obeying his every whim. The world needed balance, according to the proprietor of this fair saloon. It needed hunters to weed out the weak. I remembered now. He was known as the Scarlet Shepard.
The door opened.
“You’re not quite ready, but you’ve had your time. I’m not erasing your memory. I’m not giving Catherine back either. You belong to me, but I don’t want it until you’re ready.”
I looked up to see a thin man dressed in a red suit with a long black tie. He was wearing a black tweed cap and a chain with an upside down cross.
His goons grabbed me by the arms and dragged me out of the room and in front of Catherine. There on the stage with her now was a homeless man, dressed in ragged clothes and smelling of liquor. She looked at me, smiled, and buried her teeth in his neck. He struggled but her grasp was too strong. She drank him dry. He collapsed to the floor.
“You made me. You love me and I know one day you’ll come back.”
I was thrown out on the streets, lonely and without my wife. The shadow of my former self still lives. I left New York with new and old memories; some I had hoped would never be discovered again. I drink to forget my sins, but mostly to forget Catherine. I tell myself that I killed her years ago, that she never survived, and that I never really ever loved her, but then again, I told you in the beginning that I didn’t want to stray too far from the truth. The truth is that I would kill a million souls to have her back again

Looking for a writer to turn my screenplay into a creepypasta for youtube. In the style of a novel, like a Stephen King book. Not just a story. I submitted it to a screenplay coverage service and it got good feedback. Here's the synopsis.
Around 1990 in a small Texas border town, several prostitutes have gone missing. Now one is found brutally murdered. Nobody seems to care as the cases involve prostitutes. Including the Mayor and the town sheriff Jesse Luna. Who actually frequents prostitutes himself and is still angry because he believes that his mother left him and his sister when they were very young.. His sister Theresa Luna is a nun and is the only person who's taking the situation seriously. She also doesn't think that their mother just abandoned them. She believes that there is more to it than that. There is a local urban legend surrounding the town and some people believe that is who or what is responsible for the abductions and murder.
Jesse also has a major drinking problem and often blacks out. One night Theresa sees him with a woman who is found strangled in her bathtub the next day. She confronts him about it and he doesn't remember anything. Theresa starts to think that maybe her brother has something to do with these cases.
Jesse finally starts to take the cases seriously. He talks to the previous sheriff who mentions the old house in the woods and the priest who was there before Father Delacruz. Jesse then goes to El Paso to talk to that priest. Who is now in an assisted living facility. Jesse calls Gina Torres, his deputy to meet him at the old house in the woods tonight as he wants to check some things out.
Jesse comes back from El Paso and tells Father Delacruz that he spoke with the old priest and that he remembered Father Delacruz. Father Delacruz gets up to get a drink. He gets a gun from a drawer. He turns around and shoots Jesse in the head, killing him. A drifter who is doing some work at the church hears the gun shot and runs in. Father Delacruz shoots and kills him with Jesse's gun. He then wipes the prints from Jesse's gun and puts it in Jesse's hand. Then wipes his gun clean and puts it in the drifter's hand. Making it look like Jesse was at Father Delacruz's office and the drifter came in to rob the church. Then he and Jesse shot each other in the attempted robbery.
An old friend of Esmerelda Luna (Jesse and Theresa's mother) tells Theresa that she was with their mother on the night that she disappeared. The story is beyond bizarre. Some of it takes place at the old house in the woods. It gives credence to the urban legend that might be responsible for the abductions and the murders. After hearing the story about her mother Theresa goes to the house to do a little investigating. While there she sees a Day of the Dead altar that kind of explains the whole story about the urban legend and her mother. Theresa then sees something that completely freezes her. Someone or something is coming closer to her.and she's unable to move. Gina comes in with gun drawn. She sees Theresa standing there frozen. She then goes into the next room and sees an open window. Theresa saw something so wrong that it put her in a comatose state, unable to talk or respond to anything. She's now in the hospital. Father Delacruz enters the hospital room. The doctor updates him on Theresa's condition. He says that there are restraints on her because they don't know what she might do if she wakes up out of this state. "She's possibly reliving the event that put her here, over and over again" the doctor says. The doctor and nurse have to attend to another patient, leaving Father Delacruz and Theresa in the room alone. He walks closer to her and waves his hand in front of her face. there is no response, just wide open eyes. The nurse walks back into the room and says that she has to feed Theresa and that he will have to leave the room. Father Delacruz says "rules are rules, what kind of a priest would I be if I broke the rules." He walks out of the room and Theresa lets loose the loudest, most blood curdling, scream. She finally woke up.

I'm thinking of maybe implement some training rooms where players can join and train with other players without ruining their K/D, Do you guys think that's a good idea?

So for background, graduated 2015 with a B.S. in Biochemistry, worked at a bookstore and did computer repair for a year, worked in environmental science for 2.5 years, and finally have been working Quality Assurance at a drink company for the past 4.5 years to now.
I made the change over from the environmental lab because of management issues and pay, and things have been somewhat better on at least the pay side of things. However I feel heavily stagnate, my job is relatively easy and the worst thing I deal with on a day to day basis is horrible attitudes from people who are friends with the higher ups and so are encouraged to continue to be children. Overall there is no room for advancement. Supervisor positions are taken by either friends of upper management or by people they need to move from somewhere else in the company to get out of the way, other positions in the company have no similarity to my experience or current position and at best are the same level of pay if not worse, and I am at best tolerated if not outright disliked by the majority of my peers/superiors due to what is best summed up as cultural conflict.
My issue is that I very much do not want to continue to work quality. The pay is comfortable for the area, 50k-ish for myself in a place where average household income is somewhere in the 30k range believe. It's a job where people 15 years older than me intend to retire from and I can see why and could even see myself doing the same. But the constant abrasion of working with immature backstabbers, a constant fear of job security because of past experiences as well as said backstabbers, and the feeling that I'm not gaining any real experience nor am able to get any opportunities to gain experience is taking it's toll on me. I was just hoping some people here could possibly throw ideas my way of career paths to look into transitioning to given my experience. I've had coding and webdev suggested to me and I do find those things not-uninteresting, but from what I've seen I would have to either gain further education while maintaining my current job (which considering my experience with academia getting a B.S. while only working part-time, to say I dread it would be understating vastly) or would have to take a pay cut which at this point, with student loans and living expenses would be near non-viable. I understand a big portion of my problem is location as the major employers around here are manufacturers/factories and I imagine that company culture will be similar if not outright the same at any of those but at my stage in life I can't really just up and move somewhere without taking a huge bump in pay that would allow me to maintain my standard of living. Just really could use some ideas, please. And thank you.

I like exercising by walking in the living room. He has a blanket for his door And he has a problem w my having the hallway light on. Btw it's 8:27 right now but he's on his phone.. I don't like being upset and sad because it shortens your life and don't like the idea of being beaten up. I tore up and cried. I don't like him and wonder how to get back at him?

Not sure if this is the right place to post but I can't wait around any longer.
I'm looking for some thoughts or support, if possible. Anything, really. I'm 21F if that's relevant.
​
I've been getting worse over the last 3 years and I can't distinguish between what's normal life stuff and what's not. I have no friends or close family.
The downhill started in 2019, when I dropped out of school. Too many people, too much noise, bullying and ostracism, issues with money for gas, and a lot more. I'd shut down in the car and refuse to go.
2020 and 2021 were years of transition. My personality started flipping and I started dissociating. Got very isolated, even though I already had no friends.
2022 was the worst year. I always hated the way I look, but then something happened and I started intensely and utterly hating myself (with reason though, but more than ever). Dissociation, feeling of not being inside my mind and body, feeling of time passing too quickly and slowly at the same time, couldn't feel much of a connection to my past anymore (when looking at pictures, etc).
Couldn't leave home because of the physical discomfort and horrible sensations of the real world hitting my skin and hair. Clothes, lights, things around, vibrant colors, all felt like they were attacking me (and still do). I am literally deformed and can't even go to a place with no one around because of the way I look. I look dirty and gross because of my issues.
Now I am like that but worse, and I am unable to get myself out of this using my brain. I tried, but I don't have the energy.
I still can't leave home, can barely get out of bed. I do nothing all day, feel extremely annoyed and bothered by my life and the way things have been. I'm getting more and more disconnected from the physical world and myself. I feel like I have no identity anymore, empty and full at the same time. I have a mental symptom almost 24/7, I can never feel normal. I don't watch anything, not even listen to music. My life doesn't exist and I sleep around 11 hours a day.
I feel like my rights as a human have been taken away from me. Like I'm not allowed to do anything other people do. Not allowed to live in this planet and not allowed to have an identity. I am flighty and my ideas come and go, with no actual implementation. When I think about something, it goes away right before I can keep up with it. I feel blocked in all possible ways. I feel like I am being observed and judged. My windows are closed all the time, I don't go in front of them anymore because someone could be passing by and I don't want them to see me. My room is always dark and I have become extremely sensitive to everything. I feel fear and danger all the time. Like someone could break into my home at any moment, or a tragedy could happen (usually involving fires and explosions). I talk to myself inside my head almost the whole day and can't shut off my brain. I have a huge thick wall of glass in front of me all the time, and another one separating my consciousness from myself.
Sometimes I check the outlets because I feel there might be a hidden camera installed by the landlord or someone else, even though I know that's not true. Tech has been an unhealthy obsession with hints of fear. Posting this makes me very uncomfortable but I have to (and this is not even the start).
I am diagnosed with autism but I don't think this is related to it. I've never been so screwed and sick. I have no money to seek for therapy and I wouldn't trust the therapist anyway. I think most of them don't care and just pretend to because they're being paid. The notes they take could be misused and read by third parties (bad regulation here). What do I do? Why is all this happening to me? Can someone relate? I am very low on energy. I am wasting my life and will be screwed because of this behavior, probably even die of hunger at some point.
Sorry for too much text. I am not ok at all, could really use some external insights in the comments. Thanks and take care to not end up like me. I'm not actively suicidal, hope this is still valid here.

Just wanted to ask for some advice on career trajectory.
I just started at one of the big media agencies in programmatic advertising this week, my teammates are all very nice and the work seems interesting enough, but I have been side-eyeing the low salary (45k) since I got the offer. This is my first job as I graduated college literally this weekend (from a pretty well known school), and I don't want to be too quick to judge, but I'm constantly worried that there won't be room for me to grow in this field (especially in terms of salary, which my parents have also expressed hella concern over).
I have a degree in Economics and Creative Writing, but I admittedly didn't plan my career very well in undergrad, and everyone knows the job market has been rough this season. I never really figured out what I wanted to do, but I did know that I wasn't about the finance/banking life and wanted some semblance of work life balance in order to focus on my writing on the side. However, I'm starting to think I might have to focus on getting into a field that would allow me for better growth so I can save up enough money now and possibly write/go to grad school later. It's not too late for me to get into consulting, which I kind of hated the idea of (and still do), but it seems like it can open a lot of doors. Granted, I am mostly feeling pressured by my parents who aren't happy that I graduated from a good school and ended up in a job with a bad salary. I don't think I mind sticking around for a few months at least, but if I want to start prepping for consulting I should start now. (Also, I'm living at home rn and would kinda like enough money to move out.)
TLDR, how long should I stick around before deciding if I want to hop or not? How do you know if there's going to be growth in a field? Is it worth going into a higher paying job you might hate or have much less free time in? I know answers are definitely going to vary per person, but I am still interested in other thoughts, thank you!

So I just recently got into VR after trading some old switch games for my brothers quest 2. I’ve played VR before but this was the first time REALLY getting into it. It is extremely easy to meet and make friends with people in VR. So much more than any other platform in my opinion. VR chat is great for just hopping into a world and just talking to some cool people for the next hour. Last night I used the Big Screen app and WOW I could not believe how fun it was to just watch random stuff with people all over the internet in a virtual environment. Laughing constantly, throwing popcorn and tomatoes all over the place, taking digital selfies with others. It was pure chaotic fun. Social aspects aside, I love how extremely immersive everything is. Of course that is the whole point of vr but it feels so good to paint in rec room, or aim and shoot with a gun in population one or Hyper Dash. I just can’t get over how much I love it. I’m still extremely new to VR so I’m mostly playing the free stuff right now. But I am truly addicted and I know I will be investing many hours into my headset. Trading those switch games has to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I wish it wasn’t such a niche platform for gaming. If you’re considering getting into vr for any reason I highly recommend you do! Even if you get motion sickness there are plenty of casual games to fill your time. It’s also great for watching movies, shows, and videos on a giant virtual screen haha

CRAWLING
LIBRARY INTERACTION: “That’ll be ten days.” “I’ll try to be a good Samaritan and bring it back.”
The phone rings and I answer it. “Quick”, he says, “What’s the capital of South Dakota?” This is another test from TLN (The Library Network). I hear his stopwatch click and I rush to the computer. I type: WHAT Is THGE COAITOK F SOUTH DOIKAS (caps lock was on). I rewrite my search to simply just “SOUTH DAKOTA”. I knew Google would give me that little box guy off to the side. It did, I read: Pierre, and I say that to the TLN Man on the phone.
He tells me that if I took any longer, I would be fired. The agents would come in and I would find myself in the snow, red hands from the cold and red ears from the embarrassment.
I listen to Apple Music’s “80s Dancehall Essentials” playlist. It has a clear Jamaican influence, every song so far at least. I stand at the front counter when the phone rings. “No grooving!” the TLN Man says. He hangs up before I can apologize I stare outside and if I squint really hard I can see someone hiding behind the middle bar of the doors. A skinny man, or person, maybe a woman, like Maris from the acclaimed sitcom “Frasier”.
We have a fan in the – who is we? – front lobby to reduce harmful particles in the air. I want to stomp on it. I know if I turn it off the TLN Man would call and instruct me to turn it back on. I would too, since I am a slave to authority, or so they tell me.
I’ve stopped listening to 80s Essential Dancehall Essentials so I don’t start grooving again. I get a text from my Dad: We had McDonald’s for dinner. I say: Sounds good. LIBRARY INTERACTION #2: A man whose daughter is hiding check out the Blu-Ray of “Knives Out” and “The Revenant”. I say, “Good variety in movies here.” He says, “There we go. Have a good night.”
TLN Man can see me through every camera. I cannot see him; I never have. The phone rings: “What were you just thinking about?” I hesitate. “Every second is five dollars deducted from your pay!” I say, “I was thinking about how I can’t see you.” He hangs up. My phone beeps I have had thirty dollars deducted from my pay.
I’ve switched to 70s light rock Apple Music Essentials. My co-worker comes up from the back – We aren’t supposed to learn each other’s names. She smiles at me and I feel furry like someone just shoved feathers into my stomach through my belly button. I attempt to smile but I think I look like a monster. She scurries away. I have struck fear in her.
My face feels funny and I call TLN Man. I ask to go to the bathroom and he tells me I’ll get no lunch of I do but my face is squirming and I only get a five minute lunch anyway. I go to the nearest bathroom, the public one, and I look at my face. The feeling is emanating from a mole on the left side of my face, the mole that I have a hair growing out of. Every time that I pluck the dang thing it grows back in days. It’s a thick hair, so it always is a little uncomfortable. I always scratch and itch at it until TLN Man calls and tells me to stop and that I am disgusting and will drive customers away. I want to tell him they are called patrons not customers or at least they used to until now I guess. Everyone is a customer and everything is a business.
TLN Man doesn’t know that I can access the cameras. I managed to get the software by sending myself an email from my boss’ computer. I use the cameras to write this journal. I watch Her as She walks. I am enthralled. My mole throbs. I try to ignore it. MY home is small and sad but the camera feed brings me light and brings my joy. I can be God for a moment too.
I am back at work and sometimes I worry my thoughts are projected above my head and I get scared because I think inappropriate things about Her and TLN Man. Different things but both bad. A patron customer comes up to the desk and asks me if I know anything about some apartment buildings down the street. I say no and she spits at me, claiming I shouldn’t keep information from the public. Another man comes over and asks if he can put real mail in our Santa mailbox. I tell him no and he turns on his heel as quickly as he can and steps outside and he pours his coffee into the letters to Santa mailbox.
The more my mole twitches the more I wish I had the money to pay a dermatologist to remove it entirely. If there even is a dermatologist around here. Maybe if I didn’t talk so much at work or slack off. They money I was docked could’ve been used to drive out to see a dermatologist in the town over. Nobody has cars here since nobody can afford to leave for an extended period of time. I’ve been here for six years now, they only place I’ve lived since my parents died. A man came into our house and shot them along with my siblings. They were nine years old. He came into my room and pointed the gun at me but he didn’t pull the trigger. I’ve always wondered why.
At work She makes a joke to me but I’m too nervous to respond. I just laugh and look down as my hands search for something to do. They find some rubber bands and I try to take a big rubber band and wrap the other ones around up in it but it snaps back at me and hits me in the face. My glasses fly off and she chuckles and hands them to me. In my head she leaps into my arms and saves me from this job. I hope the TLN Man cannot see this.
The last thing I remember about my parents was them fighting while making dinner. Mostaccioli. They didn’t fight often, so it was jarring when they did. I can’t remember what the fight was about either. We ate dinner quietly and when we were done we all went into our separate places. Nobody said goodnight to me that night.
I never know how old people are at work. A woman comes in and I guess she is nineteen but she is forty-three. Married, with kids, two kids, Joey and Marko. She lives at 14432 Cumberland Avenue. Her husband is fifty-four, John. I can find this very quickly at work as long as everything is up to date. I’m not a stalker but I could be.
I left my journal in my work bad on accident. I hope nobody finds it especially Her. Good thing TLN Man is never here, I bet he’d sniff it out. I tried to bury it in my bad, hopefully nobody knocks it over on accident. The page that works knocks the cart into the wall and I jump. The phone rings. TLN Man asks me why I did that and I shrug. He tells me never to shrug, answer with your words, like a man! My fists become tight and I hope he doesn’t notice. I’ve never hit anyone but I would hit him. My mole twitches abnormally, it feels like it’s pulling me in a direction. I let it guide me, I follow it, briefly, and it takes me face to face with Her. She smiles and I blush and walk by Her. The mole stops guiding me and throbs once, hard. Almost feeling like a punishment. I get a drink of water which’ll dock my pay but I don’t care I’ve embarrassed myself and needed and excuse after nearly running Her over. Not that I would ever hurt Her. I barely know Her, what reason would I have to hurt Her?
I believe the man is standing in front of the doors again. I envision him hurling the doors open and lunging at Her over the counter. I save Her, everyone cheers. My boss (not TLN Man) comes in and tell me I have a piece of tape stuck to my jacket. I try to grab it and can’t reach. Double embarrassment. I tried to take the jacket off and she walks by and I worry she can see slash smell my armpits. Every patron customer that has come in has been able to see the tape. They never forget it, I bet, I’ll be the tape guy forever.
Sometimes when I get home from work I daydream about how work should’ve been, how I wanted work to go. I have a dog – Bailee. She barks and barks and I’ve given up trying to stop her. She sees something I don’t, clearly. I sit and I think and I stare at the empty television. I wish TLN wasn’t there, or, I guess he isn’t there but he is present. I am his empty television, waiting for the static, maybe a picture someday. I search dirty things on my computer to take my mind off all this and I feel the one haired mole throbbing.
I am back at work and I see a text from my Dad. Usually I try not to check it at work to avoid TLN Man’s rage, but the phone is quicker than I am and my face opens the phone and I see the text. “Hi. Marla passed away”. She was an old across the street neighbor. TLN Man calls he’s so mad the words sound animalistic, guttural. I tell him my neighbor died and he tells me he can make one phone call and get another neighbor killed the next time I go on my phone at the desk. Phone at desk = lazy = no customers = no $$$. I’m not even sure how we make money but I don’t say that I just hang up. My dad should’ve known better than to text me while I was at work. He’s done this on purpose I bet. Jealous I have a job and he doesn’t. My head throbs, the pain crawling up and around the top of my skull. Fuck him.
I’m home and I go back in the camera feed to see the moment I took my phone out. As TLN Man is yelling at me I see Her behind me laughing at me. How can such an empty television feel so many things at once? I am ashamed and angry, ready to run and ready to gage Her eyes out, rip her tongue out, biblical punishment – thou shalt not laugh at me. I could be better than her, I could be the authority. She’d bow down to me if I had the strength to make her. The headache has moved back into my mole. I storm into my filthy bathroom and rip the cabinet door of the henges; I didn’t know it was broken. The tweezers are in my hand and I’m yanking at the mole hair, mostly missing. My face is bleeding from the poking and prodding and I finally grasp the hair. I yank hard and my face both throbs and tingles. Pins and needles shoot into my face by way of the mole. It feels explosive, volcanic. What’s the lava, I wonder. I feel movement and the hair comes loose, thick, mangey, twitching in the light breeze. I stare hard at the cause of my pain, is this my inhibitor? Is this the reason I am who I am? Maybe now I can be free. I will be the authority. Maybe I can be the TLN Man. My mole throbs – my head whips to the mirror. I watch the hair regrow: longer, thicker than before. I’m on the ground and my mouth is open and I’m wailing. My fists hit the floor and my eyes bleed tears. I remember my childhood exercise. “Weezer, Dolly Parton, Elton John, Dodie, Avett Brothers, Metallica, Disturbed, Bobby Darin.” All musicians whose music has been devoid of all meaning to me. It doesn’t even exist anymore. I sit alone.
TLN Man calls me and tells me my facial injuries are too gruesome for the customers. I notice She is looking at me while I am on the phone. She is stifling a laugh; not obviously, but I just know it. She brought Her friend up to the desk to watch me suffer. The phone has left my hand and has gone flying towards her face. The cord pulls it back and it hits me. She and Her friend laugh. TLN Man is screaming. Suddenly I am home. I do not look at the cameras.
Rejoice! The library is out of power. What a joyous occasion. Alas – I will not see her today, in person or on camera. Or perhaps ever. Tis a shame, although the pain I feel in my face as I think this overcomes the shame. It grips my attention. I turn on my 80s ballads Apple Music station – “Forever Young” plays. Alphabetville? The band name escapes me. I twirl and twirl, attempting to enjoy this lucky day and dismiss my facial pain. My arms were flailing and my brain was quiet. Then, horror! My music changes! I did not request this. MY joy is sucked out of my body; I can feel it leaving, dispensing through my pores. How dare my moment be ruined? I walk over to my phone and to my behest it stands up tall, sprouting two legs! “Ugly mole!” it says to me. I head to my kitchen and I slide one of my dull knives out of the slot and I go walk into my tiny bathroom when I hear a knock at the door. I freeze – who would be here? Must be a vagrant; a burglar; murderer; rapist. I keep the knife behind my back when I answer. Two police officers stand right outside the door, sternly. “Sir, we regret to inform you that there’s been a murder in the building. We have police stationed at all exits and we are doing our best to blah blah blah”. He went on for too long and I managed a weak, “Thanks, officer” and they left. I hope they don’t think I did it. I don’t think they saw the knife. And I was so careful about it all too.
I am back at work. I go home. Repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat.
It has been a week since the police came by. They still haven’t found who killed Her.
It has been two weeks since She was killed probably with a knife and my mole the mole on my face (not my mole, I do not own this, I do not condone this) has made me cry every single day. I can barely work, so I have been yelled at by TLN Man every day until he quit.
TLN Man has been reported as a missing person. Work is closed in remembrance. Not that I could forget him – I see him every day.
I cannot move. My mole The Pain on my face has spread, parasitically. I can feel it moving through my brain, down into my arms, all the way to the tips of my fingers. I am rigid with crawling pain. I cannot handle this. I am through. I grab my tweezers – removing the eight hairs might make the mole removal easier. I pull and pull on some of the hairs, then I get them into the grasp of the tweezers. I hear my skin rip apart, I can barely feel it, I’m already in so much pain. I yank and rip the hairs out and I look at the tweezers. In their grasp is a spider. Our eyes meet, the pain is fading, but so is my vision. The pain moves from all over my body back towards my face. Another spider rips its way out, then another, and another, and another. Then a swarm of them. The pain fades, and the pain fades, and the pain fades, and
BREAKING NEWS: The murder of two local people, both employees of the district library, has been found dead in his apartment along with the two bodies. More at six.
The end.

I couldn't fall asleep for 3 hours last night and these memories were swimming around in my head. So I gotta PURGE.
So I met Sam on orientation day at SVA. Eager to make a friend at school, we just started chatting right away, got along great, and he ended up being in almost all of my classes. We had lots of lunches together and hung out a lot and were in each other's short films and everything. I really miss those days...Sigh...You could watch some of those on my YouTube page.
Anyway, I was a pretty funny guy, and also like the only one making comedy films in our classes (everyone was SO SERIOUS), and one day Sam invited me to go to a sketch comedy club that he had been doing for a few weeks at SVA. I indeed did go to one of these meetings (Twin Peaks quote: "I'VE BEEN to one of their meetings!!!")
So what Sam and myself didn't exactly predict was my social anxiety. It's hard to explain. In some contexts I can be really relaxed, animated, funny, and in other environments I just clam up and feel incredibly self conscious and just...awful. I was always relaxed around Sam, and later on Timmy too (it's impossible not to get along with him), but suddenly being dropped into this classroom with a bunch of complete strangers and being EXPECTED to be funny, I was just like a deer in the headlights.
Trevor was leading the group, with Zach too, standing up in front of everybody while most of us sat in chairs. Everyone was pitching sketch ideas, joking around, etc. I was just...totally silent. I mean it's hard to explain, and even now I wonder why I get like this. I'm a songwriter and I tried writing a song about it called "On and Off", it's like a switch flips on me. I still think the other Whitest Kids never really got to know the "real" me...even when I became their tech guy I was so nervous about not fucking up, I couldn't really relax.
Anyway, so one more specific memory I have is Zach said ok, we're gonna go around the room and just yell out sketch ideas off the top of your head. I think he might have volunteered one first and I remember being impressed/intimidated by it. Trevor did and I remember being amazed at how solid and hilarious it was. Everyone, even those people who aren't in the troupe anymore, had some solid ideas. Zach pointed at me with both hands.
Me (terrified): I...I'm blank.
Zach: JUST SAY ANYTHING!
Me: ....uh...
Zach (frustrated): Say a word.
Me: Fish.
Zach: Say another word.
Me: Jacket
Everyone in the room: FISH JACKET!!! (laughter)
​
I think about "FISH JACKET!!!" a lot. I mean it was a funny moment and I was glad I got a laugh in some way...But it also really bothered me. "I'm funny and quick-witted around my friends. Why can't I be like that here?"
After that class me, Sam and Trevor took the subway to their infamous dorm. I remember Trevor on the subway was still in comedy meeting mode (perhaps he was never out of it), and was pitching fully formed, hilarious sketch ideas off the top of his head. And I remember thinking that I am not that good. I just can't be on the same level as this guy. But I did want to hang out with these guys as much as possible.
I went back a second week and suddenly the terror got very real: they started talking seriously about putting on a show. This is when my stage fright and no desire at all to be any sort of actor really hit me. A SHOW ON STAGE?? I don't want to do this. I can't do this. It hit me hard when one of the other guys in the troupe, Oliver, a really nice guy, said he actually imagined ME in the lead role of a sketch he wrote about some weird nervous guy. "I think I see Jordan being this guy." I was actually insanely flattered, like wow, he wants ME to do this? But it also felt like an anxiety dream, like oh my god, I'm supposed to memorize lines and go onstage and...It was just really scary. (Note: a few years later me and my friends formed a comedy troupe and put on a handful of shows, and Sam and Zach came to our first NYC show and were really supportive. Despite debilitating stage fright, I had a ton of fun but I still realized performing comedy is not for me, and I left that troupe too to help behind the scenes instead.)
This second meeting was also the meeting they voted on naming the troupe. Trevor wrote Whitest Kids U Know on a blackboard, and a few others (wish I could remember.) I was adamantly not in favor of Whitest Kids U Know and I voted against it! I am a bit vindicated, they say all the time in recent years that they hate the name! But you have to admit it does grab you. I think I also objected because Kids in the Hall already did the whole "kids" thing. Like hey we're a gang of class clowns over here! I remember not liking any of the choices.
Soon after this I told Sam I don't think I can be in the troupe (I'm sure he was heartbroken haha), but I did say I want to be at the shows and help any way I can, and that's what kind of started me sort of...being there all the time. I went to that first SVA show, and urged by Trevor, I wrote an article about it for the SVA magazine (I posted it to this reddit, feel free to search my posts on my profile.) I composed a little bit of music for their original pilot that they made. I did boom mic horrifically early on New Years day for Timmy Poops His Pants (sorry the sound in that sketch sucks!) I videotaped some shows and then eventually became their tech booth guy for a while at Pianos and a few other venues (they even paid me!) I also was a background extra (for free) in some of their TV show sketches (the Lincoln sketch being the most prominent, sitting next to Darren.) They also took me to one of those Flogging Molly shows to watch them perform to an incredibly uninterested rock crowd.
This got long but it was therapeutic for me. I've always been funny and relaxed with Sam but Zach and Darren always seemed too cool for me (I mean from my POV) and Trevor was just like, a genius, and any time I made him laugh at all I was like oh my god, awesome (though he was also really fun to have serious conversations with.) But when I'd go home from Pianos and hang out with my close friends I'd be so much more funny and quick and myself. It also probably didn't help that all the Whitest Kids did was hang out in bars and I never drank. Though Sam was present the first two times I ever got drunk, and he seemed to very much enjoy witnessing that. I remember him laughing a ton when I was like "WHY DIDN'T I EVER DO THIS? I WANT TO BE DRUNK ALL THE TIME!!"
Hope this was interesting! I wish I could remember more! It was also interesting seeing the troupe go from the big SVA club to the 5 guys. It's not that the other people weren't funny, but there was just this sort of chemical combination of the 5 main guys, really really on the same page about what they wanted the troupe to be, and those other people had really different styles. They had this vibe that just made sense, though I have a vague memory of Sam talking about them having to go around firing half the people once the troupe broke off from SVA, and how awkward a situation it is. In a way I'm glad I fired MYSELF and didn't wait for them to do it!

And now it’s a quarter century later and we’re getting divorced and I am stuck with this knowledge I can see now, that I held on so tight because I couldn’t stop trying to save him from a thing that had already happened. I thought I could. I loved him and I thought he deserved it and I wanted to give him a happy ending to his story
And it’s so fucked up because I should have just let go and let him go find his own happy ending
But I thought- he was my best friend, you know? Like my real true fucking best friend since I was 12. And in our twenties I thought, I am young, beautiful, witty and everyone loves me, I light up a room, I will give him all of this light, we got married, pregnant, light light light spinning off me
And yeah I know it’s arrogant as fuck ok it’s not how I thought of it at the time
(And incidentally everyone has to turn to shadow sometimes too)
To make him feel happy and special and like he had the prettiest girl in the room
And yeah believe me I get the toxicity now but don’t forget I also really did love him, he was my best friend like family ok
Because I wanted him to have it. I wanted him to have it all back, his normal future.
(Most of these feelings I have no idea if they are okay to have or not and I am afraid to say them and I feel I have no right, I’m only a bystander)
Because when we were teenagers one day he tried to kill himself. He used a shotgun. He … let’s not go too far there. Of course he almost died, had years of surgery, taking bones and skin and blood vessels from one place on his body, putting them on another.
You have to understand, he was my first best friend. I connected with him at the same time as my mother left me. I was a child, on the precipice of adolescence, I was also… let’s leave it at mentally unwell… I was attached to him in ways that were not necessarily healthy but I really did also love him like that.
I used to get kind of judgy about his mom, she didn’t care about mental health, just prayed and prayed for a miracle that god would fix her son’s broken face. And I thought Jesus lady can’t you see you already got your miracle
But I am the same in a way, trying most of my life to save him from something that already happened, give him enough to make up for it
I should have let him go, I didn’t understand
I think he was never free with me, I held so tight, I stole his chance to know what he could make of life, I don’t know what I think, I just know it’s so much to feel and no one even begins to understand
And jesus fucking god this is all just the tip of the iceberg
And yeah I really don’t want to hear I need a therapist
And if you read all this thank you
Please be kind
Someone please understand