Derren Deddle was fat and slow and always jammed his printer. People hated him and I think that’s why - The printer thing. They hated him for lots of reasons but I think the main reason was the fact that he always jammed his printer and no matter how many times we showed him how to do it the right way he kept jamming it. He was always strange too. He would hum songs about the other people in the office. Rita from HR told me that she overheard him mumbling something about her being his maid and bringing him tea or something. Someone called him out once and he just snorted like a lunatic and went on with his day like nothing happened. That very same day he walked by my office, wearing his fruity cologne that mingled disgustingly with the natural musty stench that emanated from him like hot exhaust-carried garbage truck fumes. Then he would stop and smile at me with that awkward little grin that he flicked in my direction every time he passed.

So I’m sure no one was surprised when the sparks flew that Tuesday leaving three dead and two others injured. Workplace shootings either happen very quickly or take all day. In this case it was the former. Fortunately, one of the three deaths was Derren and as he took his last breath, spouting some misguided nonsense, I sighed with relief that it was over and no one else’s life would be cut short.

I bet every person in this office saw this coming. He had an odd face. It was the kind of face you wouldn’t notice if you passed him on the street, but if you were across from him on a subway and really looked at him, ugh. His nose was wrong and he clearly dyed his hair at the temples. I would watch from my office as he invited himself along for lunch or out for drinks while everybody was forced to let him come. Some people are too polite. He should have been fired a long time ago. Then none of this would have ever happened.

Despite the deaths and the trauma, I think it is safe to say that a weight had been lifted that day. The result was grizzly, but the air had been cleared and Derren Deddle would no longer be free to torment the lives of so many. It’s just a shame that Rita and Gord had to die in order for the rest of the office to be free, but I believe in sacrifice and I will never forget them for what they gave up for the rest of us.

I think about Derren Deddle a lot, how he always grinned at me and how he always jammed the printer. Sometimes I wonder if my co-workers think about him. I hope one of them comes to visit me some time so I can ask them.

S. : Excuse me sir! Sir, can I ask you something?

B. : uh yeah, sure what’s up?

S. : Have you ever been in love?

B.: Ha. Yeah I used to be.

S.: Do you mind me asking what happened?

B.: Hah sure I’ll share to the class. Yeah I was in love. I was young and stupid but I knew it was love. I had finally managed to get the girl after years of her shooting me down. Everything was great. Senior year together, didn’t think life could get better…

S.: Im sorry to say, but I’m guessing it didn’t?

B.: So you would think. It did. We ended up going to the same college after expecting to do long distance for the unseeable future. Couple of our friends were coming with as well. The beginning of the end. College is supposed to be the best time of your life, and it seemed that way at first. After a year and a half of dating, I felt that we had made our relationship even stronger. Before we moved out, we were fighting a lot. This change was good.

S.: How long did it last?

B.: Seemed like it was gone in a second. She decided that the time was right to go move a way for a while and teach her faith. I didn’t question it, but was destroyed to see her go. My mental state since moving to college was rough, and Ive wanted to apologize to her for the way I acted that semester. She was there for me, which I was grateful for, but I kept getting weird signs right before she left. After about two weeks, she asked me to give her some space to focus. I was more than willing, but nervous. After another two weeks, I noticed that she had removed me from her email list. The next Monday I got an email saying that she didn’t see a future with me anymore.

S.: …

B.: It hurt. I acted immature for sure, pleading for her to not give up. She never wavered. I tried my best. We were happy for a year and half. She said she loved me, said she would marry me when the time was right. She even had kids names picked out already. And damn did I try my hardest to be there for her. Be the best she had seen as her upbringing was one that no one should endure. All ended over an email.

S.: ….Im sorry to bring this up.

B.: No no, it’s okay. I’m grateful for her. I learned a lot about myself while we were apart. I do feel now I’m a bit emotionally numb compared to then, which I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I left my faith, got a tattoo, reconnected with old friends, but she gets stuck in my head still to this day. Been years but she still lives rent free. She’s back now and has a new boyfriend. Happy for her. I heard from one of my friends that she had said that “dumped me and I don’t feel a thing and haven’t looked back”.

S.: Oh.

B.: I haven’t been as lucky. I compare everything back to then and it feels wrong. But life moves on. One day I’ll wake up and find the one, but damn it still hurts for some reason. Sorry to overshare on the show.

S.: Stories like yours are the reason we make this show. We are here to hear you and hear your side of the story, and help you realize that there is someone willing to hear you. We hear you. We feel you. And we are with you.

B.: ….

S.: We hope you have a better day sir.

Sometimes I wonder if you'd still love me if you saw what was in my head. Not just the evil things, not just what I wanna do to people, but all the dreams I've never acted on, every lost word or passed opportunity... If you saw what I could have been-- on either side, good or evil-- would you still love what I am? Or would you despise me for who I should have become?

“The Weather” /or the news its whatever dude/…

“Sooooo… the weather! Isn’t it nice.”

/Well no its actually terrible. The rain and the changes and the seasons and things all put a damper on what i actually want to/

“Ya, and they sure do puts down the vibe.“

/No!!!!! That’s not what I meant/

.

“Weren’t we about to do something else“

/No I was thinking thaaaat…/

“OH but why not…“

/Leave me alone. I don’t want to./

anyways…

/Lets Stay Here/ “they said”

~Animal Atman /girl/

P.S. /Their animal people not people animals. They still talk they just don’t want to. Right!/

“” is the dude

// is the girl

Bold is the atman speaking

Italics is someone thinking

Or whatever

A giant metal cable loops its way down through black still water. And underwater we float holding onto it for life down here in the deep. With endless darkness above and below me.

On occasion an unidentifiable light shines toward me. Illuminating the thousands maybe millions of others lining the cable above and below me. A sight of this terrifying infinity. Total blackness is more comforting.

The metal blisters my hands but staying connected to something gives me a sense of safety. And I suppose we are all thinking the same thing. But what is the cable connected to above or below? Maybe nothing.

On occasion we plunge like a pull from the deep downward 10, 20, 50 feet. Then suddenly the cable loosens, and we are back to floating. Maybe some monster lives beneath.

As time goes on I sway between the darkness soothing and holding me or feeling a tingle in my spine and shoulders of something threatening lurking beside me. I’m ashamed to admit it this weakness in me knowing there are thousands maybe millions beneath me is my only security. I have no hope, only fear. Whatever happens will happen to you before me. And I’m afraid of this darkness that is deep inside me.

She asked me. Tears streaming down her face. It hurt to see her like this, to see her in this much pain.

“No… why would I? Your nothing to me” I replied. My back turned to her. I couldn’t let her see my face. I was crying. Of course I was. I loved her. If I told her that she would have stayed and destroyed herself to try and save me. I couldn’t let her do that.

“Well then…” she said. Her voice desperate, clear exhaustion within her sighs. “Goodbye.” Then she turned. She was gone. As she left, I turned round. She doesn’t deserve the hell I was going to put heirloom dysitysysyyuyr through. Ma

I walked to my liquor cabinet, pouring my whiskey into the cup I had before she came. I cried silently. Everything hurt, it hurt to breathe without her.

“Cancers a bitch” I told myself. Taking the last sip of my whiskey.

This story starts when I was about 5 years old…this story also has 3 other sides but only mine will be revealed. I was adopted at age 5… instantly got removed from the jail I was born in and thrown into the system because my birth giver gave her rights away instantly. Now imagine being 5, not fully understanding life yet and wondering what happened to your mom… turns out, she never checked in on me because “I was too young, and I was an innocent kid”. I constantly asked why she didn’t want to talk to me and cried for days on end because I thought she didn’t love me. Fast forward 3 years when I was about 7-8 years old. Got a dad… that was cool for all of the 5 minutes until he decided to ya know be a pedo and do things to a little girl that should’ve never been done. When I say I told everybody, as much as everybody saw when I came back from “daddy daughter dates” the disgust and nasty sweat coming from me I had to instantly shower and instantly get cleaned up. Now fast forward couple more years… same thing going on, not a single thing changed if anything the older I got the worse it got. By the time I was 16 I was being drugged and rped so obviously had to leave the entire situation. So I guess my advice to the kids who have been through this or ARE going through it….

I watched her lay there. There were tears running down my face. It had been quite a while since I had cried..

I knew this day would have come, but I had never wanted it all to end.. I saw as she opened her eyes and with a soft voice she asked:

“Now, now why are you crying? Shouldn't you be celebrating?” She asked with a soft voice and a sweet smile.

My voice was shaking and It felt like I couldn't talk. “I..I know.. I'm sorry..”

She then started laughing a bit. “Why are you apologising? Like I said you should be happy, no tears should be falling down your face.”

I couldn't help myself, more tears started appearing. I felt so embarrassed.. She wanted me happy yet here I am balling my eyes out.

She looked up at the ceiling with a smile. “I've been here for so long.. If I'm guessing I would say, perhaps 11000 years? Haha now that I say it out loud I sound so old!” She continued laughing while I sat there hiding my face with my hands.

How could she be so happy? She is dying for crying out loud! But instead she's here smiling and laughing about it. “How..” She looked towards me with a curious face. “How can you be so calm and happy?! You are dying and instead of being sad about it you're laughing!”

She was surprised by my outburst and continued to smile at me. “I know I'm dying, I've known for so long that one day I wouldn't be here anymore. I have continued to watch my people grow and years I've watched them disappear and I've watched new people appear. I've always been worried about what would have happened if I also disappeared. I was worried about who would take over once I'm gone. But.. That was when I met you..”

She took hands and looked me in the eyes.

“You were very small when I met you.. If I'm correct, that was about 4000 years ago. By that time you were about 7. I remember how you continued to laugh and stay happy even after what your parents did. You wanted to help as much as you could. I always saw something in you, and I loved that. You were a sweet kid and you still are now.” She then started laughing again.

“Gosh I was never good at getting to the point huh?” I started laughing a little with her.

“What I mean is, I'm happy I met you, I enjoyed every moment with you. Perhaps there were some ups and downs when teaching you how to use your magic but I loved every moment of it. I never want you to forget me okay? I want you to carry on my legacy.. And I want you to remember another thing, okay?”

I shook my head as I agreed.

“Thank you, thank you for everything. Thank you for all the memories and all the fun we had. Thank you for helping everyone. Thank you for helping me.”

I watched as she laid down in her bed with tears in her eyes and a smile.

“Thank you for everything, master.. I will never forget you..”

My name is Abagaeil, and I am only 5 years old. Mommy tells me that I don't have a daddy. That I'm special. Mommy will put on cartoons for me and she'll go into her office. She'll do this for me everyday for like 4 or 5 cartoons. weird noises come from her office. And new men come in and out of it. But I've become used to it. Mommy won't let me meet any of them. Maybe they're just business men. Tonight's a little weird. After the 7th cartoon the new man left. after like the 10th cartoon Mommy is just lying on the floor with a pen on her arm. and I walked over to mommy and just looked at her. Why is mommy sleeping. Holding mommy's head Wake up mommy. Wake up. Wake up mommy. Wake up. You're starting to scare me mommy. Muffling cries shaking body wake up mommy. Please wake up.

She starts to just wail. And the scene zooms into the Mom's eye and zooms out through the other end, and it's Abagaeil laying on the floor foaming out of her mouth.

The Boy With Hands for Feet and Feet for Hands

The boy with hands for feet and feet for hands was perfect bully meat. Every day since he was in preschool, he was bullied for his peculiarness. But fifth grade was the worst of it. A kid brought a blade to school and a fight started. The boy tried his best, but nearly lost his life. In all his years, only one person stood up for him: Valerie. She was a year older, but they became quick friends. They would hang out every day, every second.

The other people to care about him was his family.

He was happy.

Though, he made the mistake in going somewhere public with Val. A teen beat him up, Val too. Bystanders only watched and filmed. The boy ended up as a meme. A "trend".

He started to see the affect his disability had on his younger sister, Makayla. She wasn't able to do anything fun, because he didn't want too. And with his mental history, his parents didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone.

He sat in bed and wished to be normal. To not be a freak.

And, as if God heard, his room shook, a red light barged through. He tried to scream, but nothing came; he was in shock. And then it stopped. His heart was pounding and he could feel it in his throat. He was safe.

Then, the shaking was back, but only his closet doors. They shook like someone was banging, trying to get through. The folding doors began to open. The boy watched in terrible fear. The doors stopped, leaving a foot-wide gap. Two eyes appeared; one red, the other yellow.

"Hello boy," a voice came. It was a man.

The boy gulped, "h-hello . . ."

A deep, hollow chuckle came from the man, "don't be afraid, for I am here to help."

"To help?"

"Your wish of course!" He said happy.

"My wish?"

"To be normal?" Thr man said. The boy couldn't see, but knew the man was smirking. "You want to be normal, don't you?"

The boy thought for a second, "yes!"

"I knew you would!" The man laughed. "All you have to do is shake my hand."

An arm extended from the dark closet, breaking the door frame. It was bigger than the boy's bed!

"That's it? Just shake your hand?"

"Mmm," the man hummed.

The boy was skeptical, but got on his feet on his arms. He walked in a handstand over to the hand.

"Shake my hand and your wish will come true."

The boy nodded. He place the hand on his right leg into the man's.

Suddenly, the man gripped the boy's hand tight. The room shook once again. Fear was driving in the boy's head, thinking that this is how he died. His eyes closed.

The shaking was gone, silence crept in. He opened his eyes slowly. He saw his ceiling. His ceiling? He looke around; he was in his bed. Wasn't he just in front of his closet? Next to—

The closet was fixed. He went to get on his feet which were on his legs, but fell, gripping the carpet. He look at his feet-hands and . . . They were hands! On his arms! He pulled his pants up and he had feet! On his legs!

He attempted to stand, but his legs stopped and he fell again. He realized he couldn't feel his legs at all. He screamed and his family came in.

The doctors say he's paralyzed, and his mother weeped, his father hugged her, his sister was speechless. The boy didn't care; he was normal!

But he wasn't.

He thought that sense he was normal, he would be treated normal. But that was far from the truth—people saw him as the anti-christ or a wizard or some other crap. He felt lonely—lonlier.

Then Valerie died. A car crash. The boy almost couldn't believe it, but he was at the wake. The one person who liked him for him other than his family. Was it the price to be normal? Because if it was, then he didn't want to be normal. He wanted his friend back.

Val never did come back. And when the boy learned that him and his family had to leave town in fear of the boy's life, he became furious. His family's life was ruined because he was a freak!

He made up his mind on what he wanted to do.

At 12:12 on Oct. 28, 2015, Malik walked out of his house towards a tree. A rope was in his left hand. The wind blew vigorously as he walked down the hill, like it was telling him to stop.

He didn't. He walked to the tree with an arm out and tied a knot. The wind was blew harder, but Malik never budged. He thought of the man, and how the man was the only thing to not judge the boy. He wishe the man never left.

"Malik-"

The rope tugged and squeaked. The wind was still and silent.

He was no longer the boy with hands for feet and feet for hands.

Edit: I know the grammar is off, but I just wanted to write it. I didn't care to edit.

Some Girl in a Window

Every day, I walk past old Harriet's house. A house made of timeless wood. And every day, I would see a shadow in the window; the gender, I didn't know. I think about it, though. It's always there. Always staring. Yes, it's a shadow, but I can feel it. I want to knock on the red door of Harriet's house, but I am too afraid. Afraid of what? I don't know.

One day, I felt the wrongness in my feet. A certain feeling of unevenness. I look down, and my face is as white as the loose lace. My shoes are never untied, I always keep them tied, no matter what! How could I let this happen? Idiot!

I reach down and tie my shoe. God's breath was harsh. Sudden chills went on my face and down my spine.

It's there.

And it was.

It looked from the 2nd story window . . . Looking.

I felt happy suddenly. I felt loved. It loves me. It does—I thought—its the only thing that loves me.

But what about my friends?

Screw them! They're frauds! All of them!

Do I have friends?

No. Only it.

My shoes were lifted from the ground and I walked towards the old house. There was no gate, and the small path to the door wasn't that far. I might have been the young age of sixteen, but I felt true love.

The janky door creaked as I opened it without knocking. The smell of the house was non-existent—taken over by the smell of her perfume. I stared at the stairs.

I'm finally going to see her.

The stairs were worn and broken. The railing was gone, and most of the ceiling was on the floor in the front. I had to step over them to get to the stairs.

Allison—I said, in the dark hall. There was no light, but I could tell that there were holes in the ceiling and floor and that the house looked like it got burned down.

There was no answer.

But that didn't stop me; I continued down the hall, and I made it to the door of the room. I put my hand on the freshly painted door and pushed it. It was beautiful. Her blue and pink walls were covered in posters; pictures of her and her family and friends were displayed all over.

Then Allison. Her brown hair was silky and smooth, her skin was auburn and smooth, and she was beautiful. I can see her again. Allison . . . —my voice was low and saw, but my face displayed differently.

She sat and looked at me. She said nothing; I didn't care.

I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

You look so pretty.

Silence.

Mom and Dad would love to see you again Ally, please come back. We have your room the same way—a smile was wide on my face

Her expression was the same. I didn't even notice the blood pouring from her neck and wrists.

I know you're a little sick, but maybe we can get help?—I continued—we–we can help you. Allison please.

She stared at me with soulless eyes. She never moved.

My hands landed on her shoulders.

Allison! Please! I need you! I . . . I began to weep, my eyes were shut.

She's right there.

I opened my eyes, she was staring at me with lifeless eyes.

I hugged her. My hand touched the back of her head. It was wet and sharp. It was the size of her head.

I'm sorry Ally . . . I wasn't trying to be a piece of shit. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, and I . . . I shouldn't have told! I'm sorry!

She was gone. She left my arms, leaving me alone in my parent's old house. Everything that once felt foreign, started to feel so familiar.

I left the house.

I'm twenty-five now and when I walk by the house, I can sometimes still see her. Though, I don't do anything. I say to myself that she is just some girl in a window. But . . . Sometimes, the urge can be high. She calls for me.

I'm sorry Allison.

Edit: Sorry 'bout the mistakes. I cut my finger badly and am waiting to go to doctor. Decided to write a story. It's also why it's cringe, but criticism is something I welcome. So please do.

Have you ever been where sadness meets delight?

The mind no longer fights itself but agrees to disagree.

A sad and shameful desperation coexists with excessive and destructive glee.

Sadness hasn't found a way to ask for what it needs. It only gives way to the other, watches while it devours, delights, and bleeds.

"We can't continue this way" sadness speaks. "You continue to be happy, and we both continue to bleed. And when you've had your fill, it's left to me to pick up the pieces. And when you've had enough, I'm left to myself, Please!".

"I can't help you, and you can't help me. This is what we must do for her, go cry and let me be". Delight looks like darkness when she hasn't gotten to feed.

But soon she'll get a fix and her eyes will glaze, her smile hazed.

Sadness will be silenced and nearly suffocate.

"Next time I'll tell delight. I'll scream to her 'Put it down! We can get help! We'll figure this out!!'"

It's been days now since sadness has been retrained. Delight must have found her joy in a variety of ways.

"If I must change my tone to save us, that's what I'll do."

"Put the fucking needle down before it's too late! She just needs to feel me and then I can escape!"

Sadness kind of liked the way her voice sounded like rage.

Delight heard and wasn't moved.

"Fix your face, sadness. She needs us no more." She spoke, her voice dull.

"Where will I go?" Sadness asked, slow.

"You'll be with her family now."

"And you, delight?"

"Pray I don't follow you."

Autumn half over, winter on its way, the old man thought to himself as he nestled further down into the rocker, brushing away a shaving that had landed in the cuff of his coat sleeve.

A rip of gas and a brief stench, snatched away by the swirling breeze, drew his eye to Flora, the older of his two coonhounds. She lay looking up at him from the worn porch boards, his beautiful bluetick. He was saddened to see all the gray around her muzzle.

“You feel better now, you smelly old bitch?” he said, his voice gentle. She licked her chops at him, glanced around the yard, then lay back down, her back wedged up against Buster, his black and tan, five years younger than Flora but twice as lazy. Buster hardly ever opened an eye unless it was chowtime – or some foolish squirrel decided it was suicidal enough to risk setting foot within Buster’s visual or olfactory range.

The man turned his eyes back to the mountain and the trees, the sky and the clouds, stick and knife forgotten in his lap for the moment. He absently brushed at the crease in his worn chinos, still there despite all the washings. He never bothered with the iron now, hadn’t even had it out since Becka’s funeral. Six years ago now – no, seven.

He reached for the can of snuff on the low table beside him, but saw on opening it that it was empty. No matter, he thought. There’s another one inside. And anyway, Becka had always been after him to give it up.

“Nasty old habit,” she’d say. “What makes you think a man with a nasty habit like that deserves a kiss from a nice lady like me?”

He chuckled at the memory, and vowed – for the hundredth time, probably – to give the stuff up.

He’d be damned, though, if he’d give up his old briar, he thought, pulling the battered pipe and pouch from his coat pocket. He tamped it full and lit it with his ancient Zippo, the flame just as steady as ever. Both pipe and lighter had come to him from his father, who’d carried both in France and Germany during the war – just as he himself had carried them in Vietnam.

He rocked a bit, enjoying the day despite the chill. His knuckles and knees told him snow wasn’t far off, maybe even tonight. He drew a rag from his back pocket – a scrap from a worn-out T-shirt, too ratty to be properly called a handkerchief – and wiped away a line of spittle from the side of his mouth, then wiped off the pipe’s stem. Using the pipe always made him dribble a bit, but damned if it wasn’t good to have a smoke in his rocker, the view stretching out before him, always changing as the clouds rolled by and the light sketched a million colors on the trees and land and outcrops of stone below him.

In the tapestry of their shared existence, Emily and James were cursed to yearn for one another in every past life, an agonizing dance of longing and despair. It was a cruel fate that bound their souls together, only to rip them apart in the most heart-wrenching ways.

Their first encounter was in medieval Europe, where Emily was a peasant girl, and James a knight sworn to protect the realm. Their love, pure and unspoken, was crushed under the weight of feudal society's rigid hierarchy. James was called to a distant war, leaving Emily behind, and they never saw each other again.

In their second life, they were born into different continents during the age of exploration. Emily, a Native American, and James, a European explorer, were destined to meet as cultures collided. Their love was seen as an affront to their respective communities, and they were torn apart by prejudice and hatred.

Life after life, their souls found one another in increasingly painful circumstances. They were lovers separated by wars, diseases, and societal norms. Their love was like a candle flickering in a storm, always on the verge of being extinguished.

In their most recent reincarnation, Emily and James were born in different corners of a war-torn world. Emily was a refugee struggling for survival, while James was a soldier sent to maintain order. They met in a crowded refugee camp, their eyes locking in recognition of a love that had spanned countless lifetimes. But the cruel hand of fate intervened once more.

A brutal conflict erupted around them, tearing their lives apart just as they had finally found each other again. Emily was lost in the chaos of war, and James, shattered by grief, could do nothing but search in vain for his lost love.

As they passed through the veil of death, their souls clung to the distant hope that, perhaps, in a future life, they might find a way to break the cycle of despair that had haunted them for eternity. But for now, they remained two souls forever yearning for a love that was as devastating as it was unattainable, a love that left them perpetually broken and lost in a sea of heartache.

In their next life, Emily and James found themselves born into the turbulent era of the 19th century, amidst the backdrop of the American Civil War. Emily was a nurse tending to wounded soldiers, and James was a Confederate soldier fighting on the opposing side.

Their paths crossed on a fateful day when James was brought to the makeshift field hospital where Emily worked. Their eyes met, and the recognition of their shared souls ignited a spark of hope in their hearts. They knew the risks of their love, with the war tearing the country apart, but they couldn't deny their feelings.

Secretly, they stole moments together in the dimly lit corners of the hospital tents, sharing stolen kisses and whispered promises of a future where they could finally be together. But the war raged on, and the cruelty of fate had another devastating twist in store.

One fateful night, as Emily tended to the wounded, a stray bullet found its mark, taking her life as she tried to save another. James arrived too late, his heart shattered as he held her lifeless body in his arms. Their love, once again, had been torn apart by the merciless hands of destiny.

James survived the war, but he was forever haunted by the loss of Emily. He carried the weight of their shared history, the pain of knowing they were cursed to love but never truly be together. He wandered through the years, a broken soul, unable to find solace or purpose without Emily by his side.

Their tragic tale serves as a reminder that some love stories are destined to be eternally bittersweet, where the longing and despair are woven into the very fabric of their existence, leaving them forever separated by the cruel hand of fate.

(It’s all made up by an anonymous writer! ME!) (Please mind any errors, I’m a young writer with a big imagination <3)

 About five years ago, I was in a terrible car accident. 

It happened so quickly. I stopped at a red light at 9:12 pm in my red Mustang Convertible. I cherished that car with my life. it was a gift how could I not? My sister gave it to me before she moved away for college. My mother and father were not pleased that I was the only one who got a gift and a hug goodbye. My mother and father are both abusive. My dad used to hit my sister and me. He still slaps me around a bit, but mostly argues and yells now. I’ve never liked ether of my parents. Both of them have neglected me for years, and now I am driving my own car with a job. (I can pay for both on my own.) My parents have never given me a cent besides for the c-section for when I was born. But unfortunately I do live with them, but I pay rent, water, and electricity. I support my family as best as I can and I get no thanks. And the house is in my mom’s name. But that night in my beauty of a car, a blazing semi truck didn’t see my shiny headlights. That truck ran a red light, the same one I was waiting at, and spun out. Completely crushed my car so I’ve been told. For the past five years I have been in a coma. And my cherry red car was completely flattened and sent to the dump. For the past five years, I have been dreaming. Dreaming and sleeping my life away with tubes pumping my veins with nutrients until I wake up. About a month ago, no one was by my bedside. I woke up and found a clipboard by the door of my bed. I have always been a calm person, and waking up in a hospital room gave me this weird comfort sensation. More comfort then my parents could ever provide.

I read the clipboard with my name in bold: “Steven Summers”

My heart dropped but I stayed silent reading my medical record. “Broken Ribs, Collapsed Lung, Fractured Neck, Etc.” In short, I was flattened.

But then I heard creeping footsteps and my parents voices, crap! They can’t know I am awake! I stumbled over the cords wrapping my arms and put the clipboard back. And then pulling the covers to my neck where the itchy sheets had rested before, I lean back and close my eyes. Becoming paralyzed again and as still as I laid before.

“You don’t want to see your son Ma’am?”

A soft and comforting voice. A nurse had to have been talking to my mother right outside my room only a few feet away from me. My heart raced, I didn’t think it would ever do that again. Especially after my accident.

“I know pulling the plug was tough but it was the right decision.. He’s at peace now. Resting.”

She continued for what seemed like forever, comforting my witch of a mom. And then it hit me. Pulled the plug? Am I dead? It can’t be, I can still feel all the needles in my arm and a tube down my throat. I quickly steadied my breathing and calmed my thoughts as soon as I heard my fathers voice.

  “We’re not mourning but we appreciate your concern. We do not want to see our rotting son.”

Of course he would say something like that. But I’m not dead. Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried my best not to let them fall. I continued listening to my fathers painful words that cut me to shreds more the my windshield did in the accident.

   After what felt like ages of holding my tears, one escaped my stinging eye and rolled down my bloody cheek. The nurse had walked off a few minutes ago but my mother and father were both arguing. Nothing new except their topic, this time it was about me. Not about me not doing dishes or cleaning my dads broken wine bottle he threw, but about me not helping at all. They continued about how selfish I was for crashing so late at night and how much their wallets are going to hurt over my useless funeral. 
 They argued for another hour as I laid still. I heard it all. I heard every word. But I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t move. I barley even breathed with my one good lung. I just cried, but only shedded one tear.
  
      And that was enough I thought. Before ripping the tube out of my mouth, and ending my own life.

Once upon a time, in the world of digital connections, a boy named Alex and a girl named Emily matched on the popular dating app, Tinder. Their initial conversation left Alex unsure about Emily, but fate intervened when she unexpectedly burst into tears during their first chat. Through her sorrowful words, Alex discovered that she had been cheated on by one of his friends. This revelation melted his heart, and he began to talk to her with compassion and understanding.

As days turned into weeks, their conversations grew deeper, and a bond formed between them. On the 20th day, Emily mustered up the courage to propose to Alex. Though he had reservations, he couldn't bear the thought of seeing her cry once more. Driven by his empathy, he accepted her proposal, hoping that their love would heal the wounds of her past.

Months went by, and Alex's affection for Emily flourished. He couldn't imagine his life without her. Encouraged by their blossoming relationship, he decided to introduce Emily to his parents. His family warmly embraced her, impressed by her genuine kindness and charm.

But as time passed, doubts began to creep into Alex's mind. He discovered that Emily had cheated on him with one of her ex-boyfriends. The pain cut deep, but his love for her was unyielding. He chose to forgive her, believing in the power of second chances and the strength of their connection.

However, the cycle repeated itself. Emily was caught cheating not just once, but twice more. Each time, Alex's love for her battled against the betrayal. He forgave her, hoping that she would change and that their love could withstand the trials it faced.

Then, on a fateful day, Emily was caught cheating yet again. Faced with the undeniable truth, she threw blame at Alex, claiming that it was his actions that had pushed her into the arms of another. Confusion clouded his mind as he pondered the weight of her accusation.

And so, dear reader, I leave you with this question: Who was right? Can love and forgiveness truly conquer all, or is there a point where trust should be valued above all else? It is for you to decide the fate of Alex and Emily, to pass judgment on their intertwined lives, and to contemplate the complexity of human emotions and the boundaries of forgiveness.

"You lied," I said as he squeezed my hand.   Autumn leaves were falling into place as we roamed around Cornelia Street. This was the first time I went on a late-night car drive to a little town and even got lost. That night, Aman made me a promise of togetherness forever. "Forever and more, I promise. Me and you? We are infinity, my love." The butterflies in my stomach exploded at every word of his. I felt like nothing else existed outside of that moment. It was just us.

This was the day he and I had become us, but the road to that destination had been longer than that.

We had known each other for a year; he was my neighbor. Aman used to call me his "love at first sight." For me, it was different. Love had never been a priority for me. Growing up, my father would mostly prefer the company of outsiders to my mother's. Mom, on the other hand, would happily spend all her time with the family. This was the definition of love and marriage for them and for me.

When Aman first came into our lives, it almost felt too comfortable. He had successfully penetrated himself in my family. He charmed my dad with self-effacing jokes, while a few food compliments took away my mom's heart.

The first interaction I had with him was nothing close to romantic. We bickered over a misunderstanding that we still don't know the root of. He had asked me a question that really put me off that night. "When was the last time you smiled?"

A question so simple yet so complicated.

After months of persuading, I finally agreed to go out with him. Apart from his sense of humor, Aman was also a sensitive man. Once we went to watch a movie, Kal Ho Na Ho, and he sobbed so hard.

I knew I was falling in love with him already. How could I not? He was sweet, sincere, and sensible. He was overwhelming and full of life. He valued the essence of life like no one else. He loved like no one else.

It wasn't love at first sight for me. When I met him, I somehow knew it would be inevitable for me to not love him. Aman came into my life like an angel and he taught me how to smile freely. I had become a girl who no longer feared to love and live.   He was my sunshine, coloring my life in shades of golden. But now, even his face has lost all its warmth.

Everything has crumbled to nothing now. We were not forever, not more. The man in front of me was a liar. He had painted our bluest skies the darkest gray.

Tears welled up again. I was tired. Tired of crying for the last few hours? My heart had never been so heavy; it was breaking with every tick of the clock.

The feeling of his hand on mine became fainter and fainter... and gone.

An ear-splitting scream left my mouth as I held his lifeless cold body in my arms. "You said we were INFINITY!" I screamed in pain, in agony, and in heartbreak. Most of all, I screamed in loss.

NOTE: hey there, firstly I'd like to say this is one of the very first works of mine. So please be a little kind but I would love to know ur honest opinion about it. Also, I know it's very short but it's for my eng language essay so word count had to be considered.

This is a burner account but I just wanted to say a couple of things and vent

I’m in high school and I just got news that one of my friends died in a motorcycle accident, and me and my friends lives will never be the same without him, he acted stupid even though we all knew he was smart. He was a tall good looking goofball that has been taken away from me and everyone too soon.

Me and him were never the closest friends but I knew him enough to love him like a brother, and he will always be loved my me, his family, and all of his friends.

One more remark, please be careful when you drive because life can be taken away too fast. Please please please reach out if you need to talk to or about anything or anyone because you will never be alone in this world❤️

It was March 2020, right before pandemic. The weather in Pittsburgh was still gross. The Steelers did not make the playoffs and Phil saw his shadow, so it was going to be a long winter. And it was. Gray skies and large, darkened piles of snow pushed against the side of the roads by salt trucks from a major snowstorm two weeks ago. Those piles of snow would have that disgusting mix of snow, dirt, asphalt, salt, and piss. Perfectly matched a winter attitude.

Like any single man in his mid 20s with no sense of direction, I am browsing Tinder. You swing and miss and strike out, but it keeps yourself busy. I went to college, and did everything they told you to, except what you should have done. Should have joined that frat, have a clique, be part of a "brotherhood", but no the ego would not allow it. Thought hazing was 'gay' and did not want to be some whipping boy for a senior who roofies women's drinks and power trips.

All my reasons do is make you socially awkward. When you go into the business world, finance, accounting, law, you will find out most of these people were in fraternities and sororities, and they run the firms. That culture will continue. Because there is money there. And people will let you know that. When people tell you the truth, it is never good. And you know it. I am 28 now and people are mostly acquaintances at this point. I am close with family, but you have that moment of realization that they are set in their own ways. Things do not change. By 28 you should have a partner.

Anywho, I matched with a 21 year old woman, Laura. She was 5'3, dirty blonde hair, green eyes, Germanic. I thought she was pretty, and invited her to see me perform open mic stand up comedy at a brewery/movie theater in McKees Rocks. When I drove to her house at 8pm at Friday night to pick her up, she walked out dressed in black and she looked good and smelled like marijuana when she got into my 2014 Chevy Cruze.

We drove to the mic, I was a regular at the bar, so people knew me, and she could tell. It is important to be part of a group, and be seen as Important, especially when impressing dates. The set went well, she was smiling and happy. Afterwards, we drove back to my apartment. As we talked I noticed we shared similar interests in music, movies, tv, almost too similar. This is a red flag, when you are an average guy and find a beautiful, intelligent woman who reflects you. We drank Rolling Rock back at my apartment, turned on an episode of the Sopranos, and after about 10 minutes we starting making out.

Her kiss turned me on, it was different. I cannot really describe it but it put me in a trance. There was a sort of rhythm to it that pulled me in. We went into the bedroom, she stripped and she was beautiful, and looked directly at me with those green eyes. We kept kissing.

They say men need to go to therapy more, but therapy for guys is a beautiful woman laying with him, with her soft thigh over his, feeling her tits on his ribs, and her lips on his cheek, mouth, earlobe, neck. Nothing like it. It calms us down, and she knows this. Men do not know much, but we do know action does more than discussion. Gotta make a move.

Laura took in my member, that rhythmic mouth felt incredible down below. To this day, nobody better. I climaxed, and we laid in silence. We began to kiss again, and used the bathroom. Afterwards, we exchanged social media accounts.

I had a streak going with her on Snapchat for a few days. 3 days after we hooked up, I saw her at a Dunkin' Donuts flirting with a 6'5 skinny punk-rock barista. She looked at me like I was a stranger. Then the next day, I snapped her asking if she would want to take a walk with me. I would see couples go on walks all the time, and in my life I never really had that, at least with someone you want to be with. So I waited for her to message me back, and she blocked me. I cried. Another cold winter in Pittsburgh.

I 27 female booked a trip on my birthday weekend to visit my daughter who lives a few hours away with her dad.my 30 male boyfriend wasn’t too thrilled as I had planned to have dinner with my daughter and then have a night out with my best friend,this caused some tension as he’s Always trying to micromanage what I do, who I hang with and what I spend my money on.on the day of my trip we hadn’t been speaking for a few days,this really put a damper on my mood and I ended up just doing dinner and going back to my hotel and going to bed,I tried to call him several times but to no avail,and when he finally did answer it was a text that read “lol,u good”, I didn’t bother responding and just went to bed.the next day I woke up and not a word, late that night at work he sends me a message asking if he should drop by my work and bring me food,I didn’t respond,(I was still very mad ) he showed up unannounced handed the food to my coworker and left,we opened it up and ate it,2hrs later I get a text asking if I found my surprise to which I responded “there was nothing in there lol,we already threw away the bag”,he immediately started calling me ungrateful saying I threw away the ring he bought me on purpose because he left it right on top of the plate.I frantically began to search the garbage bare-handed,NOTHING! I begged him to stop playing around and he stuck to his story.just to find out it was his way of punishing me for “having an attitude earlier” I was infuriated and hurt he did this to me of the eve of my birthday,immediately I blocked him and we haven’t spoken since Did I over react?

My life is TV static

That crackles meaninglessly

As I wait for a show to come on

Days blur together

As my monochromatic gray

Numbness consumes me

My life is TV static

That crackles meaninglessly

As I wait for a show to come on

But it never will

“The grass…”

“…Was green,” Lexi whispered, her lips forming the words alongside her mother.“The sky was blue. The trees grew tall, and the mountains were giants.”

“The world was magic,” Lexi said, getting ahead of herself and sitting up in bed. “And we were free.”

Her mother laughed and leaned down to press a kiss against her forehead. “The world was magic. But given that you know the whole story off by heart, do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes!” Lexi said indignantly.

“Or maybe you should read to me.” Her mother pressed one warm palm to Lexi’s belly — just hard enough to make her wriggle.

Lexi’s protests turned breathless, delivered between giggles. “No, Mummy — you’ve got to. It’s my bedtime story. Those are — the rules!”

“Alright, then,” her mother finally had mercy, and with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth turned the page. “The clouds rolled through the sky, and animals of every shape and every size roamed the land, ready to be our friends.”

Wiping impatiently at the tears of laughter that were crowding her eyes, Lexi looked.

Another page rustled. Lexi’s mother spoke very softly now. Scarcely more than a whisper. “Some day, the doors will open. And we will walk up there together, all of us hand in hand. Some day we’ll go outside again.”

Knowing she was supposed to be asleep by this point in the story — or at the very least sleepy — Lexi peeked up from under lowered lashes. There was moisture shining in her mother’s eyes, too, but that didn’t make any sense. She hadn’t been tickled.

“Goodnight, my little adventurer.” The soft pressure of a kiss on her forehead, the soft bump of the storybook being placed on the table, and the hiss of the door closing behind her.

Lexi snuggled deeper into her bed and pulled the standard issue recycled sheets up close to her chin. Imagining that they were made of clouds, puffy and white just like in the storybook. The stainless steel walls of her little room shone dimly in the light that crept under the door from the corridor outside, and the soft hum of machinery was a comforting monotone in the distance.

Everything was just the same as always.

“Some day,” said Lexi, very quietly, repeating to herself the last line of her favourite story, “Some day we’ll go outside again.”

Tile : CONQUERING FEAR

He stood amongst a crowd as his head tilted to the ground, creating a barrier, like a sheep shrouded within its own wool. Afraid to let people in, his mind, a mansion with locked doors. The uproar of the crowd only got louder as his lights fade to black, wishing for the scene to be over. THUMP!

Drip, drip, drip, he arose from his slumber in a cold puddle of water dripping from a sealed ceiling. His eyes gained focus as the lights flickered on and off, the room as quiet as a library, yet still louder than the jumpscare of a horror movie. This was mansion that he had trapped himself in, deprived of human contact. So empty that it felt full, he was not the only one that lurked within this mansion. Something far more sinister than the encounter of human speech had crept its way in this house of imagination. FEAR.

As he stumbled through the halls, each step kreeked, breaking the silence but never softening the ambiance. Down each dark doorway lay a nightmare created from the lurking fear. He was focused on the only light at the end of this impending house. The door that he stood a mere 5 feet away from. As he reached out his arms and took a step closer, his stomach dropped, his arms and legs had become week. Thud. He collapsed once again in a puddle, created by his tears, as he acknowledged that in order to get rid of the fear, he would have to open the doors. The thought of this vulnerability terrified him. Was that him or the fear talking? or have they become one? The tears on his face had run dry, and the will to improve had been lit, as he slowly crawls towads the door, determined to overcome this nightmare. His hand placed on the handle slowly turns as the door opens. The flickering light is overshone by the immense light coming from the door. He squints as the light turned his view to white.

He arose from his slumber in the arms of a stranger, people surrounded him with a means to help."Are you alright?", asked the person with their arms that supported him. He stood up feeling more free than a freshly skinned sheep , so free that not even fear could reach him.

I didn’t where a story like this belonged, so I started my own Reddit community. I will be doing this story in parts as I have years of story to tell. If you end up reading this please feel free to leave a comment. I have been dealing with this pain for many years, and I am not sure how much more I can take. I feel my whole life ended in 2014, but first here’s a short back story. I had a pretty good childhood. I had parents who loved me and good friends to always have around. I never truly never needed anything growing up. I graduated high school with a 3.4 GPA and was in many programs for school such as swimming and ROTC. I only ever had 2 goals in life, to have a loving family of my own and to join the military. Well in 2010 I got all that. One year into being in the military I started talking to a girl I had met and liked in high school but was way out of my league. A year after that we welcomed our son into the world. Things for me were perfect. I and my now ex-wife seemed to have a perfect life. We weren’t rich but we were very happy, or so I thought. In February of 2014, I received orders that I was going to deploy to Afghanistan later that April. So, one week while my then-wife, son, and I were out in town we stopped so I could go and get my hair cut. She had pulled the car in a parking spot, shut off the car, and sat there. This was not normal for her. She just sat there staring out the front windshield. After a few moments of asking her “what was wrong” and trying to get her to open up she finally slowly turned and said, “I want a divorce”. Even after all these years I still remember the look on her face, looking both relieved and sad at the same time. I truly don’t remember how long we sat there but I do remember we fought the night before and I think we started the conversation there. Over the next few weeks, I remember her becoming more distant every day, to the point both she and my son weren’t there the day I left. I was deployed for over 7 months. I wrote my son and her a letter every day while I was there. Even while I was deployed things weren’t adding up. Large amounts of money went missing and when I was able to call and find out it was $800 for plane tickets, $700 at a time to different bars in our area, large Amazon orders, etc. I was furious. Looking back now I will say my ex-wife and I got married and had our son very young and never really got the chance to have fun and party and such. Anyway, I never got a letter from my ex-wife and no pictures. Every week my fellow Marines were getting letters and care packages from loved ones back home. To be honest I truly didn’t care, at that time, if I ever got to go home I was very broken. I push on though, the thought of seeing and holding my son one last time kept me alive when it mattered. Eventually, it came time to come home and I would finally get to see my wife and son. I kept trying to call and text the whole time we were traveling back to the States and finally back to base. We arrived at the parade deck (a very big flat concrete field) and I saw people’s families and signs saying Welcome home. As I got off the bus Marines had wives and husbands running into their arms with their child just behind them. I scanned the crowd looking for my wife and son. There were many people so I quickly stepped off to the side to continue looking. I never saw them. Soon the crowd got smaller and smaller and after a few hours the cheers people disappeared. It was just me sitting there on my seabag by myself. A Senior Marine in my unit then drove by and saw me. He asked if I needed a ride home. I looked around one last time at the empty parade deck and said “Yes thank you”. The look on his and his wife’s faces made me feel even more sorry for myself. Just then she drove up. She didn’t have my son with her but she had one of her female friends with her. She said she was late because she had her family in town and our son was with her mom. I know now that wasn’t the case but anyway. I arrived home and she ran inside to grab some stuff and said she had to get back and would be back later the next day. After months of only wearing my uniform, I was looking forward to taking a hot shower in my own bathroom and wearing my own clothes. I started to walk up to my front door but this is where the nightmare would truly begin.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the razor’s shiny metal. He pressed it down into his forearm with timid force at first but then harder. Red beads of blood welled up and flowed down his wrist. He grimaced; he wished he had drank a little more before he started. He heard a click and looked up. At the door stood his roommate with fear and confusion in his eyes. Razors pain you;

He sat on the bridge for what felt like hours. His hands wrung together and laid heavy on his lap. Do it, he thought. Fucking do it, you coward. Just then, he saw the red and blue flashing lights of a police car coming toward him. Rivers are damp;

He sat at his computer researching methods. Bleach. He went to the kitchen and looked under the sink. A new bottle, right there. He and his roommates weren’t good about cleaning, so the bottle was full. He unscrewed the cap and smelled. His eyes instantly began to water and his nose burned wildly. He returned the cap. Maybe something else, he thought. Acids stain you;

One, two, five, ten, twenty. He popped the pills by the handful in between gulps of vodka. As he swallowed the last pill, he laid down, satisfied. His vision became hazy, and he closed his eyes. Finally, he thought. He slowly awoke to the bright lights in his hospital bed. He groggily looked at his mother, her eyes stained with mascara and pain. And drugs cause cramps.

He reached into the cabinet in his dad’s workshop. He didn’t know much about different types of guns, even though his dad pushed for him to take it up. He grabbed the smallest one; he figured this one would make the least mess for his parents to clean. He pulled back the hammer and put it under his chin. He breathed slowly through his nose and pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing. He let out a shuddering cry and fell to the floor, sobbing. Guns aren’t lawful;

Belt firmly placed around his neck, he stepped on the stool. He wound the belt around the shower curtain rod, being careful to do it securely. He took a few deep breaths and shook the stool beneath him. The stool fell and there he hung. He could feel his pulse at his temple increasing in pace. His vision narrowed. The curtain rod suddenly bowed under his weight, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. He scrambled to catch his breath. Nooses give;

He sat in his car, tapping his finger on the steering wheel. Turning the key, he heard the engine rumble to life. He’d made sure his family would be out for hours, so that he would have no interruptions. Garage door pulled closed, gas started billowing around the room. He crack the windows and breathed deeply. He turned the dial for the radio’s volume up. “And all the little ants go marching. Red and black and tan, they’re waving...” Chilled at the sound, he slammed the radio off and began sobbing. Of course it would be this song, he thought. Gas smells awful;

He reclined onto the blanket, his face turned up toward the sun. She was talking, not quite to him, but seemingly to the world. He loved the way her laugh lilted up toward the sky. He reached his hand back to feel the stiffness of the grass behind him and smiled. You might as well live.

I heard a story about how people died 'cause of the fire in the building and firefighters get there too late because of the congestion.

It was very interesting, so I'm interested in such stories.

I had stress and decided to come in this subreddit just to post something... Well... Bad idea

He sat in the front seat, beaming with joy. This was it. Tonight would be the best night of his life. Tonight was the night of a voyage greater than anything he could ever imagine.

This night would also decide the trajectory of his master’s career and reputation.

Since he was a boy, the old codger looked up to the great dreamers of the past, for their passion and intellect lifted him off his feet. But he idolized the countless individuals who devoted their lives to solving the universe’s greatest mysteries, but were ultimately forgotten by history.

He feared he would be one of them.

Throughout his adulthood, the man was seen as a goofy maverick who wasted his time doing odd experiments. But he was determined to prove the people wrong. He was gifted with knowledge, and he would invent something that would knock their spirits out. But after years of embarrassment and failed gadgets, the bohemian thought of hanging up his coat.

But one night changed everything. It took only a simple bump on the head to make everything click.

Why didn’t he think of it sooner?

For the next two decades, the old maverick worked on his most outstanding project to date. If it succeeded, it would change the world! It would allow people to meet the dinosaurs! It would help prevent World War II! It would connect today's and tomorrow's people so they could improve their lives!

Best of all, his loyal companion would be the vessel’s first passenger! If the test were successful, he would be as famous as Lailka and Enos!

They would show their neighbors they were true dreamers.

~

Right on queue, the passenger felt the vessel rev up as its inner gadgets hummed away. He watched his master and his friend, a young man interested in capturing what was about to unfold, shrink away into the distance. Once the vessel was positioned safely from the two of them, the passenger watched as his master and the boy stood far before it.

Before he knew it, the passenger was racing forward, gaining speed every few seconds. Wanting to glimpse what would await him in the unknown, he leaned forward as the vessel’s interior shook and its control circuits flared. His heart pounded in his chest as he grinned joyfully. Everything his master had done led up to this moment.

The vessel accelerated faster, its stainless steel frame glistening in the moonlight. As the passenger closed in on the two men, the front of the vessel shot out shining sparks of energy, lighting it up like a comet. The passenger squinted his eyes as he braced himself for the journey.

Then, a blinding light enveloped his vision as he felt the world around him flash away in a sonic boom.

Suddenly, the light vanished…

…and the passenger saw that he was surrounded by infinite blackness with faint specks of light floating in its frame.

This wasn’t right. His master promised him he’d be home in an instant.

Where was he?

Suddenly, the familiar comfort of the vessel was torn away.

The sound of his pitiful gasps was swallowed up in the vast, merciless void.

The lack of air was like a constrictor around his chest, squeezing relentlessly as he felt little icy mandibles gnawing at his skin.

He couldn't move. He couldn't cry out. Every ounce of him demanded oxygen, but the void was unyielding.

His vision blurred, and the specks surrounding him danced violently before fading to nothing.

The passenger lay strapped to his seat as the vessel floated into the perpetual night.

Forever alone, confined within a failed dream.

~

“What did I tell you?!? Eighty-eight miles per hour!!! The temporal displacement occurred at exactly 1:20 a.m. and zero seconds!!!”

The Doc’s heart leaped with joy over finally inventing something useful. Feeling light on his feet, the jolly old fellow held the vehicle’s controller in the air triumphantly.

Meanwhile, Marty, eyes wide, scanned the smoldering parking lot looking for the vehicle. Not only had it just vanished before their eyes, but it left a damn trail of flames behind them!

Looking down at the scorched pavement, he saw the only thing left behind: a license plate with “OUTATIME” hammered on it. The dazed boy reached for the plate, but upon touching it, it felt like he was touching hot coals. He recoiled his hand in pain.

“Jesus Christ, Doc, you disintegrated Einstein!”

With a wave of confidence, the Doc tried to reassure his friend.

“Calm down, Marty. I didn’t disintegrate anything! The molecular structure of both Einstein and the car are completely intact!”

But his answer did little to alleviate the boy’s bewilderment and fear.

“THEN WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY?!?”

“The appropriate question is, WHEN the hell are they? You see, Einstein has just become the world's first time traveler. I sent him into the future. One minute into the future, to be exact.”

By his calculations, his little devil would meet up with him and Marty in no time. Everything was going to plan.

However, what the Doc failed to consider before conducting the experiment, was the Earth’s orbital path around the sun.

Hey guys I just want to post this because I just want to take some of this stress off my a back a bit so here I go. It sss the beginning of my 8th grade year and I had told myself that I was going to focus on my work and make myself a “gangsta”. one day in my math class this girl who’s been absent for a a week shows up I don’t want to sound over exaggerating but I fell in love instantly. I didn’t turn to a simp right away until I started talking to her and got to know her. She was everything a man can dream of. She was smart,funny,sensitive,shy,loyal and so much beautiful things. She was a very shy person she never would like to talk to the class when she gets called on (but still does it) and she was never around a crowd of people she would always be with the few friends she had. I think that’s what made me fall hard for her, just so I can the man who can show her the world and show her that I will protect her by any means. Most of time that me and her talked was always at school or on FaceTime. I remember how we would call each other right away as soon as we got home. Me and her didn’t have much in common that’s what I loved about us is that we have nothing in common but still manage to build a string bond. The only thing we can say we had incommon was that we didn’t really like being home or at least didn’t feel very comfortable being around family member. That’s why we would always call each other so we didn’t have to really be “around” them. She was always at home because her mom wouldn’t let her go outside at all. Fast forward a couple months, she went got her self a boyfriend and no it wasn’t me it was a friend I had who was her boyfriend. They date for 6 months and broke up. I was still talking to her when they were dating because the boyfriend didn’t really care that I was her friend. But when they broke up I knew it was my time to make moves which I did, but she ended up going with another one of my friends. But that’s only lasted a week. After that break up I started to notice she was very touchy and flirty witg me. When this started to happen I told her that if it was ok if I can kiss her after school. She said yes, after that kiss I asked her out instantly and she said yes. It was going good until the day of my middle school graduation. Somebody called me and told me that she wasn’t there (I didn’t go to my graduation) so I panicked and started calling a whole bunch of time on ever platform. A month goes by and I haven’t heard a word from her. I end up getting texted by her on her sister Snapchat account and tell me what happen. She told me that her mom broke her phone because she didn’t do a chore and that she didn’t go to graduation because she didn’t want me thinking she was cheating on me. I loved her so much for that. She couldn’t text me thru sister account anymore because her sister was a asshole. So that made us stop talking for another month. And during this month is my life Changed for the worst I started to be cold hearted to people and I started being a bad person.it’s like every time someone shows me love it reminds how empty my heart really is, I think it was due to my parents being divorced me and my mom were moving around with my uncles and aunts houses. After a month of not talking she finally texted me saying she got a new phone and she wasn’t to keep working things out with us but when this was said I told her that I didn’t. I didn’t want to tell her why because I was scared that she was never going to talk to me ever again.

This is pretty much the story guys I still feel like shit for doing that to her I still feel like a I should die for it. I just want to see her one more time and tell her how much I miss her and tell her how sorry I am.

I know nobody will read this, but i am bored and probably only want to feel like someone, so i'll just post this here. I was always a happy kid, i was annoying and loud, not the smartest and i liked going outdoors a lot. I started going to school when i was five years old, and i got bullied by other kids. It didn't affect me really then, as i just lightened up every time with the happy spirit and encouraging family i had. When i was nine, i went to a gymnasium, where i got bullied as well. In seventh grade, i got addicted to video games, and my performances dropped. Video games were the only thing i could do where i was good at, and where i wasn't bullied. Instead of people helping me, my father told me i was a failure and i'm not gonna make it in life. My mom didn't say anything, and my teachers only told me to study harder and yelled at me. I had depression, i was jacking off at least 5 times a day, i was thin as a stick, and i didn't shower for weeks. I was crumbling under pressure, and when i had the chance to go to a normal school, i immediately accepted. I started feeling better, but even then, i still got bullied. It wasn't as much pressure as before, but i was still bad in school and had issues. My father was drinking every night and insulting me. I found a few friends, but i was the victim in the group. When i was in 8th grade, i had to retake the year because i was missing at school for over 3/4 of the year. In that summer break, i spent a ton of time with my one and only good friend. I wanted to change something, as he made me realize that life can be much better if i just change myself. In my new class i was always the quiet kid, and i didn't find friends, but i wasn't really bullied either. After it had proven that paying attention in class and putting a little effort in was helpful, i was the third best in class, and now that i was a little happy once again, i decided to start working out. After about 2 months, I felt great, even though people in my class laughed at me for working on myself and showing pride. I now had 2 close friends, one of which i knew since the fifth grade, who is was always friends with, and the other one i got to know because of him, and he motivated me to work out with him. I am very thankful for them. A girl from my current class which i then found pretty, showed interest in me, and i, being the naive fool i was, instantly liked her and made friends with her and arranged to spend time together after writing for about a week. I was happy i had a clear chance and bragged to my friends and family about it. (My father's anger issues and drinking problems got better since i started improving myself) I introduced her to them, and i said only good things about her, even though my mum knew her mom and heard bad things about that family and the girl. I assured them she was awesome, and i was blinded by love. We got into a relationship after i told her i was in love with her, and it was probably the worst and best decision of my life. She was lying every day, threatening to run away from home and commiting suicide just for attention. She took up all of my time, and encouraged me to stop working out, and called me a geek for being good in school, and she often texted other people because "they were just friends" Everytime we had an arguement, she would be insulted, talking badly about me to everyone she knew, and ignoring me when i talked to her and pushing me away. After about almost 5 months of putting up with it and doing everything she wanted, she started writing with another guy while we were having a slight argument (which wasn't even my fault), telling him she loved him and that he's beautiful, almost having sex over the phone, and they exchanged private pictures. I saw the chat (she protested to let me look into it for a good 5 minutes) and i instantly stormed out of her door to cool down, otherwise i would have done things i would have regretted later. From this point i hated her, i hated every single memory of her. I called her every name there was for the next 20 minutes in my head. I was in a fit of rage, I wasn't even sad she cheated on me, because i already started disliking her weeks before. At this point i realized how terrible she was, manipulating me, a guy which was way out of her league by now, to a point of madness. She was pretty, but she was stupid, an alcoholic, vaping, in puberty, being lazy all day, and overall had a bad character. (For example, she said she didn't care about people dying in Ukraine, she had no heart, she likes pain, etc...) Just really edgy overall. From this day on, which i mark as the best day of my life, i lost about 70% of my emotion. I thought about life for hours after i found out she was cheating, and it made me dull. We broke it off about a month after this incident, as i lost all interest in her and stopped spending time with her or writing her. I gained about 10 kg of pure muscle since then, i feel better than ever, i have my friends, my family, and i go boxing and i am doing a bunch of weightlifting. Here i am now, writing this story. I feel lonely a lot of times, and i still don't like living. I may still have a few mental problems, but i feel better. I know what i want to do in life now, and that women are just a distraction for teenagers. I stopped jacking off, i don't chase women, i have a strong mind and body, but i still don't feel fulfilled. Maybe someday i will find happiness again, but i think i may be a broken "man". I'm 15 years old. I still feel depressed a lot of times, but i like how much my life has improved since i broke off that relationship. Best part is, she wants me back and completely devoted her life to drinking by now. Thank you for listening if you made it this far, this was just the sad lifestory of myself.😊 I want to end this chapter of sorrow and improve even more. And i thank my friends, as they are the only reason i'm alive today. Goodbye!