Thanks for the invite y'all :)

the kazoo is wild

the kazoo is wild

lol... matt ....

Doesn't matter. You fixed my heart to the best of your abilities, no matter what.

How does weed make your racist, Not to mention this guys story?

What is the most traumatizing thing you've seen

Tellme2

M.2

Wondering if we could use an adapter to use m.2 ssd.

ORANGE ZONE AND PREVIOUS PRICE ACTIONS

 # THE LEVELS TO WATCH: 1. **Lowest Low (0.20$):** This historical floor has never been broken. It’s the ultimate support level, and if we revisit this zone, we’re in *serious danger*. However, if it acts as a double bottom, we could see the same explosive reaction as in the past. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. 🪦 2. **First High (0.74$):** During the first green period, GTI rocketed to 0.74$, proving that it has the potential to bounce hard from support levels when the setup is right. 🚀 3. **Second Low (0.33$):** This is our **current critical support zone**, holding strong and showing signs of resilience. It’s comparable to the 0.40$ zone but slightly lower. So far, it hasn’t broken, and if it continues to hold, we could be in for a bullish run. 🤞 4. **Second High (\~1.75$):** Following the bounce from 0.33$, GTI reached its highest high at around 1.75$. This is the next major resistance zone, and if GTI gets back into squeeze mode, this will be the level to watch. 📈 5. **Third Low (\~0.31$):** Today’s price action could confirm whether this becomes the third low. If the 0.31$ zone holds—or we see a double bottom at 0.20$—GTI could be gearing up for another massive reversal. However, if we break 0.31$ and especially 0.20$, things could get ugly fast, potentially signaling delisting or bankruptcy. 🪦 6. **Third High (\~0.75$ - 1.70$):** If GTI bounces, the next high is likely to land in the range of 0.75$ to 1.70$, based on past performance. A breakout to these levels could signify another major squeeze. 🔥 Thanks for reading 🤞

Kein Auto ist illegal

Kein Auto ist illegal

The reason why it wasn't a Nazi salute? Because elmo f***ed it up!

He's an idiot.

Apparently Ryeowook wasn’t meant be to a member of SJ?

Apparently, a trainee named Kang Junyoung was going to be part of Super Junior, but for some reason, he never was and was replaced by Ryeowook.

If seeing this in Laravel makes you 🤮, get Sentry.

If seeing this in Laravel makes you 🤮, get Sentry.

VANS - $39,93

There's Something Out There Underneath the Ice [Pt. 2/3]

The wind ripped at my jacket, pulled at the length of rope connecting me to the plow. "Ed," I begged, "we have to go!" This time, he didn't say anything. He just stared at me, a blank look in his eyes. "Ed!" I yelled. "Nevermind, screw it!" We didn't have time to stand around talking. Every second out there was another second closer to hypothermia. I pulled him away, back towards my Snow Cat. Edvard's feet stumbled against the ground, somewhat walking but mostly dragging. I forced him into the passenger seat of my plow and unhooked myself from the anchor rope. With the click of button, it retracted onto the reel. Climbing into the driver's seat, I closed the door and cranked the heat as high as it would go. I was exhausted. Felt as if I'd just finished a marathon. Really, we traveled less than a mile. I yanked the goggles off my head and wiped the sweat and tears away before taking hold of the control levers. Then, we started for my cabin. Along the way, I radioed the others to let them know what happened. "Is he alright?" Mia asked. "What the hell was he doing?" said Donovan. "I've got him, safe and sound. That's all that matters right now," I replied. "I'll get back to you once were at the cabin." Then, I turned off the radio to focus on the drive. The storm was picking up, smearing the landscape into a swirl of white. Antarctica could be a beautiful place if you ignored the cold. Glittering stretches of open terrain. An endless sky that sometimes was blue as the ocean or red as a fire. Pink in the early morning, maybe a shade of purple late at night with soft tinges of vibrant green. But most of the time, especially in the winter months, it was black. Dark as the bottom of the sea. In that moment, I felt a sense of nostalgia for my first week at the research station. Long before I had become inured to the boredom and treacherous nature of the artic. In a strange way, perhaps even in a nonsensical, inexplicable way, I had felt like an astronaut. As if I were exploring what few had seen before. A lone lifeform adrift in the barren void of space. Special. Not because of who I was or what I could do, but because of what I was in relation to my environment. An odd entity that existed somewhere it wasn't meant to be. A flower in the desert, a heartbeat amongst the dead. That feeling quickly abandoned me during my second or third week. My sense of awe had been combatted by the long hours of nothing, trapped inside my cabin for hours on end. My distaste for the artic, for the cold and the snow, came with relative ease. "Where are we?" Edvard asked. "We''re heading back to my cabin." He reached up and pulled the fur-lined hood from his head, peeled the goggles from his eyes, tugged the balaclava down around his neck. His cheeks were red; his lips chapped. Edvard was a handsome man in his early thirties. Tan skin that had taken a softer tone from his time in the north, time spent away from the sunlight. A hard jawline with cheeks stippled by the makings of a beard. Thick, tangled hair sat on his head. Brown as oakwood. Drenched from sweat and snow into a darker shade than usual. The thing I'd noticed about Edvard when we first met were his eyes. Glacial blue and intense. The kind that were easy to get lost in if you weren't careful. Always watching, observing, assessing every minute detail. We sometimes joked that he was a reptile because we never saw him blink. And at first, it might seem disquieting, off-putting to the average person, but you quickly adjusted to it, to him, because beneath that severity, beneath that intense gaze was a profound warmth. Kindness. Selflessness. Intellect that went beyond amassed knowledge to a deep, unfathomable grasp of empathy. Of emotions and compassion. If it weren't already apparent, I admired Edvard. Found his gentleness, his genuine nature, commendable. Especially during a period of time when society's norms did not always condone such behaviors. Furtively, though, I was also envious of him. Jealous to a caustic degree. He had somehow figured out the secret to happiness. Had discovered the path to not only fulfillment, but a level of content that I would never achieve no matter how great my aspirations or achievements. To put it simply, I woke up every morning intent on working to earn my paycheck like everybody else. Edvard, though, awoke with the sole purpose of enlightening himself. No grandiose expectations. No incessant grind in search of monetary success. He lived and breathed for the sole purpose of experience. To do the best he could, and at the end of the day, properly acknowledge his efforts regardless of the results. Maybe that's why I had been so surprised to hear Edvard say: "You should've left me out there." "What?" "You should've left me on the ice, out in the storm." "You would've froze. I'm surprised you're still alive, Ed. You'll be lucky if you don't contract anything serious." "I'm already sick." "Probably because you were standing in the middle of a snowstorm! What in God's name were you thinking?" Edvard turned towards me then. That faraway look in his eyes. "There was someone out there." "You're imagining things. There's no one out here but us." "They're out there!" "No one is out there. The company would've told us if they were bringing anyone in. And as far as I'm aware, the next research station is almost thirty miles away." The cold was making me irritable. I wanted nothing more than to get back, take a warm bath, and drink some hot chocolate. Maybe play another game of chess with Donovan if he was willing to lose again. Or listen to music while watching the snowfall. I was an avid fan of Low Roar. Their music was oddly redolent of the artic. Morbidly beautiful. Haunting and surreal. I exhaled my grievances. "It's just us, Ed." He didn't seem convinced, but he said nothing more of the matter and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. "I've got a headache." "We'll get you some aspirin when we get back." Gently, he massaged his temples as if to work the kinks from his brain. "Thank you, Emily." I hated when people called me by the wrong name, but Edvard wasn't in a state of mind to be scolded or reprimanded. "I'll keep you overnight to monitor your status," I said, "and assuming you haven't developed hypothermia by then, I'll take you back home in the morning. Maybe Donovan will help me retrieve your Snow Cat at some point." Edvard showed no interest in the current subject, and instead, said: "I had a dream about you last night." I scoffed. "For both our sakes, don't tell Mia that." "You were dancing at the center of the sun," Edvard continued. "I think you were laughing. Even as the inferno swallowed you whole, you looked as if you were laughing." I blinked. The silence between us swelled, combated only by the sound of the wind as it thrashed the metal exterior of the Snow Cat. "Maybe we should just let this be a time of silent reflection," I suggested. "Take a moment to really think before we speak." Surprisingly, this made Edvard laugh. A subtle gradual thing that soon filled the inner cabin of the Snow Cat. "If nothing else," he said, "you're funnier than...than me." I shook my head in disbelief. "Thanks. Glad to see the cabin fever hasn't completely turned you mad." Again, he croaked with laughter. A small, humored chuckle that sat in his throat like the call of a toad. "Humor is a good trait to possess," he told me. "From what I have surmised, the general population appreciates good humor over almost anything else. They find it charismatic, endearing." The cold had corroded his brain, left him in a detached state trying to further distance hiself from the trauma he'd endured. From the realization that he had faced the distinct possibility of death not twenty minutes prior. I wasn't going to burst that bubble, wasn't going to ruin his method of coping. Simply, I told him: "Ed, I think that is a very astute conclusion." This seemed to invoke some semblance of joy within him. A hint of pride for his meager assessment. And we were able to finish the remainder of our drive in peace. When we finally reached my cabin, I killed the Snow Cat's engine and climbed out from the cab. I lagged behind, allowing Edvard to pass me and enter the cabin first, convinced that he might try to run away if I weren't there to block him. But now that I was with him, that he was no longer alone with his thoughts, he seemed cooperative, compliant. More so than usual. Edvard was the unofficial leader of our little group. The spokesman for the skeleton crew. He ordered our supplies and reported to the company whenever they reached out, which wasn't often since most back at headquarters were away for the holiday. He didn't have any real authority, not like our actual superiors. He couldn't orders us about or terminate our positions or anything like that. But he'd been taking on some of the responsibilities the rest of us wished to avoid, and for that, we were all grateful. Maybe that had been affecting him. Maybe that's what had driven him out into the storm. The surmounted pressure and additional stress coupled with the inevitable madness provoked by isolation, by a lack of sunlight and exercise. I would've asked him about it, not that he necessarily would've admitted this, but I was bone-cold and exhausted. I didn't want to have a serious conversation then. Didn't want to deal with the burden. I just wanted to call it a night and relax. Handle it in the morning after I had some rest. Or about as close to rest as I could get. So, instead of talking, I ran a hot shower and let Edvard wash up first. I threw his clothes into laundry and started cooking tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. Then, I radioed the others to give them an update. They had more questions than I had answers. I told them what little I knew and promised to give any updates if I found out more. An empty promise. Edvard was an adult. Fully capable of making his own choices. If he wanted to talk, I was more than willing to listen. But in my mind, the last thing I would have wanted at a time like this was someone else poking and prodding, dissecting my every thought and decision as if I were no more than a hapless child. That didn't mean I wasn't going to keep an eye on him. He was in my cabin, and therefore, under my supervision. Until I felt comfortable enough with his current state of well-being, I wasn't going to let him leave. Some people might think I was being completely ignorant or stupid, and maybe I was to some degree, but I would tell those people you weren't there. You don't know Edvard like I do. Not that we're exactly close, but we've all been working together for the better part of a year. Forced to spend almost every day within close proximity. It's not like we just clocked out at the end of the workday. Not like we could go to the bar on the weekends. If we wanted to socialize, it was with each other. If we wanted to play games or share a drink or have a movie night, there were only so many people we could do that with. Friendship or not, we were victims of circumstance. Animals sharing the same exhibit. You either learned to appreciate the company of the other twenty-five individuals around you, or you spent all your time locked inside your cabin slowly losing your mind. At this point, I'd had more conversations with Edvard or Donovan or Mia or any of the other twenty-three analysts than I'd had with my actual friends, possibly even certain members of my family. We were more than familiar with each other. Edvard was whimsical, but he wasn't an idiot. He wasn't crazy or insane or anything like that. He was fully self-aware, more cognizant than ninety percent of the people I'd encountered throughout my life. And from what I could tell, he didn't seem depressed. Wasn't displaying negative behavior to lead me to suspect that he had gone out into the storm with the intention of dying. Still, despite my rationality, he had gone out there for a reason. There was an intention. "I don't know," he had admitted between bites of his grilled cheese. About half of his tomato soup still remained, wafting little streams of mist into the air. "I just...I really thought someone was out there. I would've put all my money on it. Every last dollar." "And your first instinct was to go after them?" I said. "I didn't want them to freeze." He took another bite and chewed. "I mean, didn't you do the same thing for me?" "That's different. I was almost certain you were out there. The transmitter even said so." "Still. There was a slight chance that I wasn't." "I guess." "But you went out there anyway." "Alright, Ed, you've convinced me. Next time I notice you're miles from your cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, I'll just leave you be." He laughed. "That's not what I'm getting at." "What are you getting at then?" He contemplated this as he chewed, going back and forth between his sandwich and soup until neither remained. "Human nature is self-destructive at its core," he finally said. "They're...we're...it's practically intrinsic to do anything in our power to help another member of the species without any regard for our own well-being." I looked at him for a long time without saying anything. Bemused by his statement, stupefied even. Then, when I did speak, I told him: "You have severely misinterpreted human nature if that's what you believe." "Oh?" He seemed disappointed. "Is that so? Enlighten me then." "Gladly." I set my sandwich on the plate and leaned back in my seat. "Have I ever told you about my father?" He wracked his brain for a memory that I already knew didn't exist. "He was a good person," I explained. "Served in the army for about seven and a half years. Honorably discharged due to mental concerns. Spent the rest of his life working minimum wage at a steel mill during the week. Nighttime security gigs at a bar downtown on the weekends. "One day," I told him, "he just dies. Heart failure. No warnings really. He was overweight and had been a smoker in his younger days, but other than that, fit as a fiddle." "Okay?" "Well, we didn't have much money growing up. We were just above the poverty line. So, as you might imagine, we struggled to pay the funeral charges. It's expensive to properly dispose of a body. Whether you cremate or bury." "What did you do?" "We went to the VA, but they weren't going to cover it. Started a fundraiser, online and in-person. That helped. People donated, more than I expected, but at the end of the day, my family was stuck with a substantial bill. One that we are still paying, and it's been almost three years." Edvard frowned. "I'm not fully grasping--" "The point is, there are good people and bad people. Two sides to every coin. But self-destructive, in a selfess sacrificial way, I don't think so." I pushed my plate away. My appetite had abandoned me. "There's a reason humanity still exists while other species go extinct. We're hard-wired for survival. Our sense of self-preservation is greater than our innate emotional response to the condition of others." "You think people should have donated more? Until they had nothing left to give?" "Not at all. I don't hold a grudge, I don't have any grievances. Hell, I'd probably do the same thing they did in given circumstances. But if our empathy is as great as you want to believe, we wouldn't have struggled in the least to pay for my father's funeral. There wouldn't be homelessness or poverty or starving nations. Society wouldn't completely break at the first sight of a pandemic. But these things do exist, they happen because we're self-centered...most of us, at least. We worry about number one and hope number two or three or four never come knocking on our door in search of help." "Then why did you come out looking for...me?" "I don't know. I just couldn't stand the idea of a coworker--a friend, being out there. Left alone like that." "Maybe you don't give the human race enough credit." "Or maybe I'm just an idiot lacking the necessity for self-preservation." "I'mnot entirely convinced." He smiled then. A gentle pull at the corner of his lips. "I possess enough knowledge, sufficient memories and experience to know that humanity can be full of destruction and hostility, but there's still compassion out there. Enough altruism to deem worthwhile. It's a species worth protecting, one worth being apart of. Don't you think?" I scoffed. The conversation was absurd, but the question itself was beyond ridiculous. Not exactly what I expected from that night. It was commonplace to discuss politics or literature. Pop culture and movies. Weekend plans or outings with the family. The sanctity of humanity, the value of society, that just wasn't a popular topic. "I think it's getting late," I said. "I think we're too tired to be discussing ethical dilemmas or analyzing human nature." He put his hands up in surrender. "Alright, fine. But let me ask you one last thing, and I'll leave it alone: what makes a person? What standards qualify someone as a human being?" "Easy, they know when to drop a conversation." I retrieved my dishes and carried them over to the sink. "Looks like you've still got some learning to do." "I guess so." We cleaned up after dinner. I washed and he dried. Then, while Edvard looked through my collection of books and board games, I took a shower. The water was warm and thawed the cold from my body, melted away the stress that had pulled my muscles taut. Helped clear the fuzz from my mind. When I stepped out, I found Edvard waiting for me in the doorway of the bathroom. I don't know how long he'd been there, but the moment caught us both by surprise. "What the hell are you doing?" I remarked. He lifted his hand, holding up a book for me to see, a casual expression across his face as if I hadn't caught him watching me shower. It might sound stupid, but his nonchalance made any internal alarms go silent. As if it were a misunderstanding. Bad timing kind of scenario. "Can I borrow this?" he asked, holding out my father's copy of Thomas Ligotti's 'The Conspiracy Against the Human Race' on display. "Uh...sure." I waited a moment, towel wrapped around my body, before asking: "You mind getting out so I can change?" He frowned. A reddish hue flooded his cheeks. "Right, sorry. Yeah. Just one of those days." He backed out of the bathroom. "Again, sorry. Completely inappropriate of me." Once the door was closed, I swapped my towel for a pair of checkered pajama bottoms and a plain gray sweatshirt. Cotton polymer that was softer than any pillow or cloud in existence. The small things in life are sometimes the most fruitful. Little pleasures to make the rest no more than a distant memory. That greasy fast food takeout after a long day at work. That cup of coco after spending the morning shoveling your driveway. A tub of cookie dough ice cream after getting dumped by the only girl you ever loved. Brief moments of reprieve from reality. Distractions to keep your sanity intact. Comfort in the simplest form. When I came out of the bathroom, I found Edvard sitting on the couch reading my father's book. He glanced at me and offered a soft smile. A strange way to clear the air, but for the life of me, I couldn't think of a better alternative. I'm sure one existed, but at the time, I was still in an awkward mindset of whether I should be upset, pissed, ashamed, or mortified. "I'm going to put the kettle on," I said. "You want a cup of tea?" "Tea?" "Crushed leaves and hot water." He chuckled. "I know what tea is..." He pondered a moment. "Is it any good?" "You've never had tea before?" "No, yeah, I have, but what kind?" "I've got Sleepytime Vanilla, peppermint, and Throat Coat." I checked the cabinet. "I've also got homebrew coffee and hot chocolate with marshmallows." The variety in choice seemed to confuse him. "Uh..." "Is that an answer?" Again, that warm, crooked smile. "You know better than me. I'll let you decide." I filled the kettle with water and set it on the burner. Then, I went to my rig to perform the nightly check in. Mia was getting ready for bed. It seemed a little early, but lately, she'd been laying in bed for hours on end, unable to fall asleep. Her theory was that if she lay down around eight or nine at night, she might be asleep by ten or eleven. Donovan was in the middle of a Studio Ghibli marathon. He'd been watching 'Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind' when I radioed in. For those that don't know Donovan, the last thing you wanted to do was interrupt him during a movie. So, I skipped the niceties and any attempt at conversation. Told them I would check back in the morning. I wanted to mention Edvard, talk about the way he was acting, the things he'd been saying, but like with Donovan and Oscar, it was hard to broach the matter with him in the same room, listening to our conversation. After recording temperatures, weather conditions, and seismic activity, I muted my systems and grabbed the kettle from the stove. I poured a cup of Sleeptyime Vanilla for myself and Throat Coat for Edvard. When I came into the living room, Edvard dog-eared his current page and looked up at me. "Can I ask you something?" "Depends," I said, "what's it about?" "You're father." "You can ask, but I can't promise to give an answer." "Fair enough, all things considered." I set the cup of Throat Coat on the coffee table in front of him and took a seat in my desk chair at the other end of the room. "Alright, shoot," I said. "Shoot?" "Figure of speech, Ed. Never knew you to be so literal." He tittered and shrugged helplessly. "Like I said, weird day. Feeling a bit off. Like I've just awoken from a dream." "I know that feeling. Sort of like deja vu." His brow knitted with uncertainty. "I guess so, yeah." He set the book on the cushion beside him and took his mug by the handle, lifting it to his lips. "Wiat a minute, that's--" But he was already gulping it down. Wisps of steam masked his face as he emptied the mug. Then, he set it back on the coffee table and exhaled. "Nevermind," I muttered. "Guess you don't really need tastebuds anyway." I blew on my coco before taking a drink. I don't know how he didn't react because I practically scorched the interior of my mouth with just one sip. "Anyways," I said, stifling a yelp, "you had a question about my father?" "Right. I was going to ask if you missed him." "Of course. It'd be a crime not to." "Would it?" "Another figure of speech, Ed. Seriously, whats going on with you?" "No, no. I understand. I just mean, what if I didn't miss my own father." "I wasn't aware your father had passed." He pursed his lips, forming a firm line across his mouth. "Both of my parents...actually They...uh...they died in a car accident." I couldn't help the shocked expression on my face. Edvard was so vibrant and optimistic. Hard to imagine he had ever experienced any serious trauma. But that's just the way some people coped. Turn to the positive and leave the past behind. Let your shadow follow at your heels instead of plaguing your mind. "I don't really feel much of anything about their deaths," he confessed. "Shouldn't I, though?" "Well, when did it happen?" "I was a child. They were coming back from a date, and I was stuck at home with the babysitter. A young neighbor girl from across the hall. "I remember hearing the police sirens from down the road," he recalled. "When I looked out the window, I could see the lights flashing in the distance. I felt...helpless. Trapped. I don't know how I knew it was them, I just did. But now, I don't feel anything. It's like I'm watching that moment on TV. Like it was someone else's life." "I'm not a psychologist, but it sounds like you're still in shock." He shook his head. "No. I remember being in shock at the time. I don't know what this is." "You can be in shock more than once. Some realities take years to set in. It's not like you experience it once and it's done. These things come in waves. "Some days..." I paused, wondering if this was something I wanted to share with him. Something I wanted to share with anybody. "Some days, I get up and get out of bed like anybody else. I feel fine, normal. Just go through the motions and that's that. But then there are days when I might hear a certain song or watch a certain movie or read a certain book, and it feels like I've lost my father for the first time again. Like I'm back in that moment when my brother called to tell me..." Edvard stared at me, wide-eyed and completely enthralled. As if we were sharing ghost stories around the campfire. "It comes and goes," I finished. "You don't ever stop grieving, you just learn to carry that weight. To manage it so that it doesn't crush you." "What if you could forget it?" he asked. "Lose those memories. Would you?" That was a tough question. Well, I suppose the question itself wasn't harder than any other question, but the answer was complicated. Difficult to put into words, to explain outside of just feeling it. "I'm not sure, honestly," I said. "I mean, that's why people drink or smoke or whatever. Because they want to distract themselves, want to forget their pain. But I don't think you can. Not without causing more issues for yourself." "You'll have to expound on that a little more for me." "Life isn't a steak," I explained. "You can't just cut away the fatty bits. I wish you could, and I suppose some people really do try, but in my experience, it just doesn't work like that. It's a package deal. You get the good with the bad. Trying to eliminate that, to cut out the parts you don't like, it'll hurt you as a person. It would completely erase any tolerance for pain and leave you with unrealistic expectations. You wouldn't really be yourself if you removed the memories you didn't want." "To suffer is a better alternative?" "To suffer is to be human. Just like with love and hate, joy and anger. We have to experience all those emotions at some point or another, otherwise we become blind to reality." He seemed enthralled by this notion. Completely absorbed by the topic at hand. "But I get where you're coming from," I admitted. "I've been there. So overwhelmed by your grief that you almost finding yourself wishing you don't exist. That you weren't real because then, you wouldn't have to feel anything at all. All that heartbreak, all that confusion and madness just fades away if you aren't there to indulge it. It becomes illusory." Edvard leaned back, resting his chin in between his forefinger and thumb. "Interesting..." "It's been a long day," I told him. "Let's just call it an early night. Try to get some sleep and clear our heads." Silently, he nodded. I retrieved an extra set of pillows and blankets from the closet. I offered to sleep on the couch, but Edvard refused. He'd already taken the better half of my day with his antics. He didn't want to put me out any further by taking my bed. I was too tired to argue. I turned out the lights and climbed beneath the covers. It took me a while to fall asleep. Partially because my brain wouldn't shut down. That's been a problem since childhood. Even when my body was on the brink of collapse, my mind stayed active. But also, I wanted to wait until Edvard had fallen asleep. Not that he would have done anything, not that I didn't feel safe around him, but there was just this feeling I had. I didn't know what it was, but I couldn't allow myself to go to bed until I knew he was asleep first. That eventually came when I heard his soft snores sneaking through the dark. Then, and only then, did I close my eyes and relax. It probably comes as no surprise that I dreamt of my father that night. I was outside, caught in the middle of an icestorm. There was nothing around me for miles. Empty fields laden with snow. Endless hills rolling in the distance like the gentle peeks of ebbing ocean waves. The sky was pitch-black. No sun, no moon, no stars. Just a blank void of darkness. I could hear my father calling out to me. It'd been so long since I heard his voice, but even then, I could tell that it wasn't him. It was a guttural sound. Sharp and grating, but inexplicably, I was convinced that it was my father. The way that dream logic makes no rational sense, but you accept it as fact anyways. I followed the voice through the storm until it came from directly beneath me. Then, I fell to my knees and started digging. I didn't have a shovel or gloves or any equipment. So, I dug with my bare hands. My fingers went from red to pale blue. My muscles ached and burned. But I kept digging, pushing away mound after mound of snow. I found his corpse buried beneath a thick wall of ice. Arms raised and hands poised as if trying to claw his way out. I blinked, and my father was replaced by Edvard. I blinked again, and this time, it was Donovan. Short black hair, and a thin mustache above his upper lip. Skin the color of milk. Then, it was Mia. Long, auburn-red hair and soft green eyes. Mouth partially open as if frozen mid-scream. Lifting my fist, I pounded on the ice, cracking the first layer with relative ease but struggling to break through anything deeper than that. The wind picked up. Snow pelted me at an incredible speed, dragging across my flesh like the edge of a razor blade. When I blinked again, Mia was gone. Instead, it was me beneath the ice. A reflection interspersed by a spiderweb of cracks. I awoke with a lump in my throat, wanting to scream but unable. My lips were locked together. I was paralyzed. At my bedside, Edvard loomed over me. He had a blank gaze in his eyes, looking without seeing. A lantern absent of light. "I am here," he said.

Lakossági fórum a Szent Ferenc Program támogatási rendszeréről

"fearless" was Trump in Butler Pa. This is just generic liberal talking points defending modern day slavery/indentured servant hood. I do not recognize this as "Christian" btw.

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The truth is

I was experience strong suicidal ideation My whole life fell apart around me because I was like I'll be dead soon I got help and suddenly all the reasons I didn't want to take antidepressants weren't as bad as being dead I'll take the heartburn I complained about Because it means my heart is still beating and I didn't rip open my own throat during a panic attack I do not care about anything around me other than me getting through the darkest period I was ever in

Boyfriend’s Son Valentine’s Day?

Hey guys! So I’m still very new to this website so I’m not really sure 100% on how this works. My boyfriend got me back on it. I (f23) have been dating this dude (35) for about 5 going on 6 months now. He’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met! But that’s not what I came on here to talk about, see he has a son (12) and I was wondering if it would be weird if I also got his son a Valentine’s Day gift. I’m a very big lover girl and gift giving is my love language lol. I’m there for him way more than his actual mom, I’m not gonna bash her or anything I’m just saying what his dad has said. But I was just wondering like would that be weird? I’m still new to also dating someone with a kid and I’m really not trying to mess anything up. But everything is going soo smooth and amazing🧡

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