2022.01.18 04:23 LineNoise Covid fines could be withdrawn because of a bureaucratic bungle that meant they may have been issued unlawfully. An investigation has been launched by the Dept. of Justice into whether dozens of authorised officers actually had the power to issue the fines.
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2022.01.18 04:23 ZealousidealBat7066 Raining Gorilla Head https://opensea.io/GuerrinoSantoni #NFTs #NFTCommunity #nftcollector #NFTdrop #nftart
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2022.01.18 04:23 bren12341 Cheese tastes much better when grated, then in normal form.
2022.01.18 04:23 HugoChinaski This may seem far fetched but does anyone know some camera(s) that take these type of color-graded photos, or would that just have to be done in post?
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2022.01.18 04:23 CartographerSeth Wealthfront accounts aren’t making any money and I’m not sure why
So I have 2 Wealthfront accounts, one is at risk level 9 and the other at risk level 3. I started them in June 2021, and so far they have gained about 2% each. Given how much the market has gone up over that time, this seemed really low. I even checked with friends who had the same risk settings as I did and they all had double-digit gains over that same period, meanwhile I haven’t even kept up with inflation. Is there some kind of setting I’m missing? I’ve only taken money out twice, and both were in the very beginning, within a few weeks of my initial deposit, so I don’t think frequent transactions is a problem.
submitted by CartographerSeth to wealthfront [link] [comments]
2022.01.18 04:23 Eckman270 Genesect raid on me 4685 9110 8050 im Waiting 5 min
2022.01.18 04:23 TweetArchiveBot Sihle Ngobese RT from Ruan Russouw: @BigDaddyLiberty @venter_dina I wonder how many managers she has demanded to speak to. What a 🔔🔚
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2022.01.18 04:23 Foad087 Airdrop Near ... Earn 180$ very easy
Airdrop Near Very good Don't miss airdrop Prize 10 Near= 180$ Distribution from 25 jan https://t.me/Near_OfficialsBot?start=r0444142450 Contract bsc: 0x1fa4a73a3f0133f0025378af00236f3abdee5d63
submitted by Foad087 to CryptoGamersCommunity [link] [comments]
2022.01.18 04:23 ScHoLaR_oF_FiRsT_sIn ] Beauty & Wolf <3 [
|submitted by ScHoLaR_oF_FiRsT_sIn to playstation [link] [comments]|
2022.01.18 04:23 pushpaknandecha Does this castle reminds u of the one in game?
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2022.01.18 04:23 Ideas2lamb Beautifully sung by #alessiacara in #bladerunnerblacklotus . #crunchyroll #adultswim #anime #jazz
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2022.01.18 04:23 TheEliteDM "Tasting the Limits of" Idea
I love the "Tasting the Limits of" segment where some crew members try progressively stranger and stranger takes on a dish, tapping out when they have hit their limit. What about "Tasting the Limits of History?"
Mythical Kitchen has some videos where they recreate meals from history such as Abraham Lincoln's inauguration feast, so they already know about recreating old food. The Great Depression had some strange recipes, like cake made using tomato soup. One of the oldest recipes is a recreation of a stone-age meal that was basically wild greens, venison, and barley stuffed into a stomach and boiled.
The Mythical Kitchen crew would be so great at recreating some ancient dishes. I think it would be interesting to see the dishes and entertaining to watch Rhett, Link, and the crew try them.
submitted by TheEliteDM to goodmythicalmorning [link] [comments]
2022.01.18 04:23 ApplicationHeavy7362 What super power would your character have, and how long until they unknowingly became the villain? (A discussion due to curiosity)
Let's say you have a friend group having some form of get together, maybe they're drinking, maybe they're young and having a sleepover. One of them asks the age old question that we've all asked and been asked, "If you could have any super power, what would it be?" As it goes around the room everyone says they'd like to read minds, or become invisible, have super speed, or be able to fly, with a sprinkling of fire and oneiromancy. Later down the line, maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks, even a few years, boom, they all get the powers they wanted.
Now the real question is, how does that power, mesh with their psychology? Will the mind reader go to far? Will the invisible person go too far? Is the person who decided on super speed going to explode someone on accident like in "the boys"? Will the one who can fly accidentally through a plane off course and cause a catastrophe. How many people in that room became the villain and didn't realize it? Did the one who asked for power over dreams become a modern day Freddy Krueger? Did the one who asked for super strength become the ultimate killing machine? No one ever thinks of the downside to those powers. No one ever thinks that even in true crime, a killer who kills for a higher cause is no less a serial killer, the only difference is that they are a missionary killer. How many of these new supers will become the villain while truly believing what they're doing is for the greater good? What's the actual lime between hero and villain?
Granted "the boys" does an amazing job of this theory, but I feel like super powers are over romanticized despite how terribly wrong it could go. It is rare that power of any kind is not abused. I personally wouldn't trust myself with any.
What would your super power story be like? How would you navigate the reality of human nature in that ideation?
submitted by ApplicationHeavy7362 to writing [link] [comments]
2022.01.18 04:23 yashsxna Swelling but no pain. My story of pelvic floor tight muscles.
I'm 18yo and I got this Epididymytis pain 4 weeks ago. Went to see a well known doctor he gave me antibiotics and painkillers and asked me to visit after 6 days. On 6th day he stopped my painkiller as I told him I don't have any pain now.
Then I went to visit him on 14th day and he stopped my antibiotics too and just gave me a tablet for next 14 days which will help in loosening the nerve or something.
He asked me to wear athletic supporter from day 1 and to keep wearing it for next till 6th week.
A short story : In 2020 October I got to know that my pelvic floor is tight because I wasn't able to squat properly for which I started stretching regularly but after 10 days I had an accident which injured my tailbone and because of that I could only do 2-3 stretches which doctor recommended and complete bed rest for next 9-10 months.
In 2021 I decided to work my way up again in gym and in life to get back to normal everything was going fine and I was doing stretches too and then something happened after 2 months of it and I got in a rut of not doing stretches and exercises. In November I lifted pretty heavy weight on squat and deadlift exactly like 2x my bodyweight which might have caused my Epididymytis.
Guys now I've started doing the stretches and I'll update you guys if you want me to after 2 weeks of stretching.
PS. It's week 4 and day 1 of my stretching (1 hour daily) and I have no pain i just think my balls are swollen a bit and redness is there.
submitted by yashsxna to chronicepididymitis [link] [comments]
2022.01.18 04:23 Mr_Charms_505 Fog on New Year's Eve
The New Year’s Eve in question started out as the majority of my New Year’s Eves started: alone. The only difference this time was the setting. Instead of my usual cramped studio apartment, I would be celebrating the coming of another year in my recently deceased, and I truly do mean recently, parent’s house. They had been in the ground maybe two weeks at that point. The only reason I’d seen my brother and sister for Christmas at all had been because of the funeral and reading of the will. As expected, I’d received nothing. But my siblings, though distant, are far from cold to me. My parents had left the house to my brother, but since he was in the army and stationed abroad most of the time, he’d found it in his heart to transfer ownership of the house over to me.
The plan was to sell the house and use the extra income to move up from a studio apartment for the rest of my life, to a one-bedroom apartment. I had already gotten a real-estate agent and began to ready the house for selling when New Year’s Eve came, but I had decided that instead of heading back to the city, to my small apartment, it might be nice to spend one last New Year’s in the house I grew up in, no matter how many bitter memories filled the place.
It was only six o’clock in the evening, but the sun had already set long ago, and looking outside the front room window, all I could see of the vast front yard I knew to be there was what the small porch light could illuminate, only about ten feet or so. There wasn’t much to see anyways. It was a typical upstate New York winter: Dead grass, no snow, and bone-chilling cold. There wasn’t much to hear either, just the crackling of the fire within the fireplace. The house was remote, and while it wasn’t in the middle of nowhere by any stretch of imagination, my nearest neighbor was about 3 miles away, with the village of Cato about 20 miles away. A certain type of people would think it very Zen, but I missed hearing voices, even if those voices only had resentment and disappointment when directed at me.
After looking out the window at nothing for a little while, I closed the curtains and decided to start celebrating early. Making my way into the kitchen, I pulled out one of the 2 bottles of champagne I had bought the previous evening. Closing the fridge door, I took notice of the pictures my parents had kept on it: My older brother when he was in little league baseball, my older sister during her piano recital, both of them in their prom get-ups. The last picture caught my attention though. It was the four of them, all gathered together in the living room, and judging my parent’s age in the picture, it hadn’t been taken too long ago.
I took this photo off the fridge and brought it into the living room with me, along with one of the bottles of champagne. Popping the cork off from the bottle, I took a large swig as I sat roughly down in my father’s old recliner and stared at the picture. The picture was of the four of them, standing together in front of the fireplace. Christmas decorations were all around them, and they all were wearing ugly sweaters, as was our holiday tradition for as long as I could remember. All of them were smiling, and I couldn’t help but smile at my brother and sister’s awkward smiles. They’d long stopped arguing with my parents for my sake, and this was just going through the motions of another Christmas without me. My mother and father’s smiles seemed very genuine though, and that was what made the smile vanish from my face. They were happy; Happy that it was Christmas, happy that my brother and sister were there, and happy that I wasn’t.
I took another big swig from the champagne bottle, letting the photo drop from my fingers onto the hardwood floor. I knew that getting drunk over this whole situation wasn’t the healthy thing to do. My therapist had reinforced that time and time again. But I couldn’t help it. There were too many ghosts in this house, too many words left unsaid, too many things left undone. I never thought that I would feel sad over my parent’s passing, but sitting in my father’s armchair alone, with what seemed like no noise in the entire world except the crackling of fire and fizzing of alcohol, I couldn’t help but add the falling of tears to a cold wooden floor to the cacophony, creating my own little symphony of longing and sorrow that was written just for me.
A sudden bang on the front room window not only shook me from my melancholy trance, but made me jump up from my father’s chair in surprise. I saw the aftershock of whatever had slammed into the window with the curtains finishing their ruffling. Whatever had smacked into the window had done so very hard. I thought that maybe a bird had made a mistake in the dark, and so I went to the window and drew back the left side curtain in an effort to see what was going on.
Fog lay before me heavy and grey in the porch light. I stared out in amazement, wondering where they heck all of this had come from. Then I wondered how fog so thick that my porch light couldn’t even penetrate it managed to suddenly be all around my house. I wasn’t near any significant bodies of water, yet this fog seemed to be as thick as the fog you get out at sea, or at least how movies portrayed it.
The shock quickly faded, and I instead turned my efforts to seeing if I could spot the poor bird’s body that had flown into the window. I stood on my tiptoes to look down at my porch as close to the window as I could, but I didn’t see anything. I looked left and right, wondering if the bird hadn’t been knocked out and had retreated to a corner of the porch, but there was still nothing. With a shrug, I began to let the curtain fall back into place, thinking maybe the bird hadn’t hurt itself badly, and had already flown away.
Something caught my eye however, and I stopped the curtain from falling completely. With the light from the porch, I could make out a smudge upon the actual glass of the window. It wasn’t a small smudge by any stretch, and if it didn’t look like the imprint of a bird flying into the glass. It was 100% a smudge made by a human hand pressed up against the glass.
I blinked at this a moment, more confused than anything. As instructed by my real estate agent, I had attacked the windows with every glass cleaning product I could get my hands on. When I had finished yesterday, every window in the house shined brighter and clearer than a diamond. How had I missed this obvious smudge? Then I remembered the bottle of booze in my head, and with a slight chuckle to myself, I let the curtain fall the rest of the way and took another big swig from the bottle.
“It’s too quiet here, that’s the problem!” I said out loud, and marched to the kitchen on a mission. Flipping on the light switch, I walked over to the CD player on the counter that my parents had gotten ages ago and had refused to upgrade from. I pressed the power button and the decade old machine whirred to life. I simply pressed play, and my custom mix CD I had put into it hours ago began to play. I’m a punk loving guy, and my mix CD was full of songs from the best. At first, I was only bopping my head to the music, taking an occasional sip here and there. 9 songs in, and I was dancing up a storm, taking long pulls from the bottle until it was finally empty.
Sweaty, buzzed and actually having fun, I put the empty bottle on the counter and opened the fridge to grab another. As my hand wrapped around the bottle, a loud slam behind me scared the crap out of me, and I jumped back from the fridge, losing balance and landing on the linoleum tiles on my butt. Looking around frantically, the slightest bit of movement caught my eye, and I turned to see the back door closing itself.
I sat there for a moment, staring at the door in surprise. Finally, I got to my feet and walked over to the door. I was sure I had locked it, but plain as day, there was a mark on the wall where the doorknob and smacked into it with incredible force. Checking the knob, sure enough, it was unlocked. I quickly locked both the knob and the deadbolt this time, turned on the small back light, and headed over to the kitchen window.
I didn’t know what I expected to see except fog, because that was all I could see. I marveled briefly again at how thick it was. I could barely tell that a light source was on only a few feet from the window, and the light certainly didn’t help me see anything in the fog. Still, I kept up my vigil for a few minutes, hoping to see what had smacked into the back door so hard. There were tons of wildlife, and who knows, maybe a deer lost its way in the dark and fog and ran head first into my back door. I’d seen stranger animal videos on the internet, so it was always possible.
Shaking off my surprise, I laughed to myself as I made my way back to the fridge. “Never a dull moment around here.” I said out loud to myself as I reached in the fridge again and grabbed the 2nd bottle of champagne. After taking it out and closing the fridge door, I checked the clock on the stove. It was now around 9:30pm. I popped the cork of the 2nd bottle, but I promised myself that I would take this one slowly, as I wanted at least one glass to have at midnight.
I turned off the CD player, flicked off the kitchen light and made my way back to the living room. The fire had really died down, only embers and ashes remaining, so I decided to let it die and turn on the two lamps in the living room. I sat back in my father’s recliner again and took out my phone. I felt like watching stupid and random videos online, at least for a little while. After several sips from my bottle and much indecision, I finally found something I wanted. I was just about to hit play when all of a sudden, there came a massive pounding upon the front door, as if someone wanted to break it down with their fist.
I immediately jumped to my feet with a started yelp, dropping my phone and the bottle onto the floor. The pounding continued as I stared wide eyed in horror at the door, it shaking from impact with each blow across it. I shouted, “Who’s there?” and the pounding stopped. For a moment, all was still and quiet. Then, just as suddenly, I could hear the unmistakable sound of something carving into the wood of the front door.
I was paralyzed with fear. Was there an animal out there, something like a bear? But a bear wouldn’t have pounded on the door with such frequency. I could feel the blood drain from my face as I realized the obvious: someone was out there, and with the sounds of the carving, they at least had a knife, if not something bigger. My entire body started shaking at the realization that my life was probably in serious danger.
The sounds of a blade into the wood continued for a few seconds longer, and then stopped. I strained to hear anything: words, heavy breathing, footsteps, but there was nothing. Slowly, ever so slowly, I made my way to the door, each step with effort not to make a sound on the wooden floor. What must have only taken a minute felt like an hour, until I finally was in arm’s reach of the door handle. I silently cursed to myself that the front door didn’t have a peep hole. I eased myself up to the door and put an ear to it, trying to pick up the slightest sound from outside. Nothing.
Slowly I undid the lock and deadbolt, attempting with all of my might to muffle the sounds of the locks coming undone. I paused a moment, deciding what my next move should be. If someone was out there, they might be watching to see if the door slowly opened, and then they would make their move. I decided to open the door quickly, maybe catching whoever was out there by surprise and allowing me to see them and shut the door quick enough to not let them get a foot or hand in the doorway. Breathing deeply, I swung open the door with all my might and quickly looked around into the night beyond.
Again, I don’t know what I was expecting. The fog was so thick, I could not see past the five feet of my front porch light. I looked in vain to my left and right, but only darkness and grey greeted me. I was truly baffled. I had no idea what could be going on. Maybe some local kids were messing with me? That thought quickly left me head as I turned to look at my front door to see what was carved into it.
Truth be told, I was expecting a certain slur to be on the door. I knew my folks never really talked about me much to their neighbors and friends, but when I left home 8 years ago, I heard from my sister that everyone around knew about our falling out. However, it wasn’t a slur at all, and it certainly wasn’t carved in with a knife. Deeply etched in the wood, with what seemed like claws or something was simply one word: Leave.
I slammed the door shut and locked it. I stood with my hands against the door for support as panic started seeping into me. There was definitely someone out there in the fog, and they wanted me to leave. I was more than happy to oblige them, and began to reach for my car keys, grateful I had decided to park really close to the house. But as I felt them in my pocket, I stopped. Why would someone want me to leave the house? So they could rob it? That was possible, but it didn’t make any sense to me. There had been plenty of time to rob the place before tonight, why didn’t they choose a day when there was no one here?
The other reason was this person wanted me to leave the house because they wanted to ambush me. They were hoping I’d run out to my car, out into the night and blinding fog, in a panic, and then they could use that fear to ambush me…and then what? I shuddered and stopped myself from going to any of those dark situations. I knew then that I needed to stay inside and call the police.
I ran immediately to my dropped phone. I knew I didn’t need to check the house because I wasn’t an idiot, and all the doors and windows had been previously locked from the time when no one was here. Picking up my phone, I expected I’d have to close the internet to get to the actual phone part of my phone, but was shocked to see the thing was completely dead. That was impossible! It had been at 90% not 5 minutes ago! What the hell could have drained it completely dry like that?
I began to run to the kitchen, but to my horror, the pounding that had previously been on the front door started up on the backdoor, and I knew that the backdoor was nowhere near as sturdy as the front. It was going to break soon, and I needed to arm myself against whomever was about to break in. Then all the lights went out.
I think I screamed, but I can’t remember. All I can remember of that moment was two unearthly howls, full of rage and malice, filling the air and drowning out any other sound. The pounding on the backdoor was no accompanied by pounding on the front door again. Whoever, or whatever, was out there, there were two of them. I was outnumbered.
Pocketing my phone, I stumble ran through the dark till I reached the staircase to the 2nd floor. Blindly, I began to run up them, hoping to get to my parent’s room when I knew my father’s hunting rifle was stored. But when I was half-way up, two crashes could be heard from down below. They’d gotten through both doors, and I distinctly heard two sets of footsteps rushing towards the stairs. Whatever these two were, they were fast, and I didn’t think I could make it to my parent’s room. My only hope was my old room, and with a prayer that they hadn’t stepped into my room at all and hadn’t taken off my 4 locks I had added in my teenage years, I scrambled up the rest of the steps and took a left instead of a right.
As I reached the door at the end of the hall, I could hear the footsteps on the stairs behind me. I had maybe seconds to act before whatever was behind me reached me. I grabbed and handle and turned, thanking God when the handle turned with me and the door opened. I quickly entered and slammed the door behind me, pressing my weight up against it and quickly fumbling for the various deadbolts I prayed were also still there. They were.
I had just gotten the fourth and final deadbolt closed when something slammed into the door with enough force that was sent sprawling on the ground. In the total darkness of my old room, as it was the only bedroom in the house without a window, I crawled around as the pounding commenced on my door until I reached my bed. My parents had even left the sheets on it, and I quickly got underneath them. I poked my head out from under them and screamed at the door, “What do you want? Leave me alone!”
More howls dripping with hatred answered me, but all of a sudden, the pounding stopped. I sat there on my bed, blankets wrapped around me and breathing heavily, staring into the dark at where my door was, just waiting for what horror would happen next. I was not disappointed.
“Leave.” A voice sounding dry, raspy and somewhat choked, spoke this word from behind the door. “Leave.” Came another voice, just as dry, raspy and choked as the first, but also sounding somehow different. I was shocked at what I had just heard. “What?” I feebly answered back. “LEAVE!” Both voices said in unison, clear animosity resounding through their withered and labored voices. I took a moment to think of a response, thinking the best way to ask whatever was out there to just let me pass and I would be leaving in a heartbeat.
But then, something deep within me stirred, something I hadn’t even realized was there. This was just like when I left home all those years ago. I loved this place. I loved my brother and sister. I loved my mother and father. I loved my home. And yet, I had been forced to leave it, to abandon it and face the facts that I no longer had a home anywhere. After all those years, when I finally had the chance to come back to the place where I was raised, where I had spent some of the happiest years of my life, I was to be driven out of it once again, not even getting to spend a single night?
The words just bubbled up inside me, and I was powerless to stop them from flowing out. “This is my house! My home! You get leave here! You get out!” I shouted back to the two intruders. My hands were quivering with rage, my teeth bared and nostrils flared. It somehow felt cathartic saying those words to these two random intruders, and for the moment of silence that followed, I smiled with glee, imagining the surprise these two must have felt when I responded back not with fear, but with anger.
The glee turned quickly to regret and horror as two howls spewed forth from behind the door, louder than any previously that night. The pounding resumed on me door, but this time it was mixed with angry snarls of, “LEAVE! LEAVE THIS HOUSE!” I ducked under the covers and curled into a ball, shaking and crying, trying to block out the slams and voices and clear cracking of the wood of my door.
I must have fallen asleep, because all of a sudden, when I opened my eyes in the darkness under my blankets, I could hear only silence. Quietly, I reached into my pocket and took out my phone. It was on, at 80% power, and the clock said that it was now 7am. I had missed midnight of the new year, or at least, I had missed celebrating it.
Cautiously, I peaked my head from under my covers, using the flashlight on my phone to finally see. My door had held, and stood there ominously, all four deadbolts still in their locked position. As I got up from under the covers, I looked around my room. I had been in correct in assuming that they hadn’t taken a single step in here, as everything was exactly the way it had been my last night in the house before getting kicked out.
I tip-toed my way to the door and pressed my ear against it. When I heard nothing, I slowly began to undo the deadbolts. As the final one came free, I pressed my ear against the door again. When I still heard nothing, I ventured a peak into the hall by cracking the door just an inch.
Morning light was coming in through an upstairs window, and I could see that the hallway was quiet and uninhabited. I opened the door more and noticed two things. The first were the massive cracks and breaks on the door from whatever those things were pounding on the door, trying to get in. The second thing I noticed was the trail of dirt on the floor. But I put those observations to the side and concentrated on making sure whatever was here, was gone.
Slowly, I opened the door all the way. When nothing else happened, I began to make my way down the stair, unintentionally following the dirt trail. When I reached the bottom, an unexpected scene awaited me. I’ll admit that I was expecting total destruction, but that wasn’t what I saw. Only some items were completely destroyed. The doors were both knocked down and off their hinges, my jacket was torn to shreds, the cd player and my cd inside it lay on the kitchen floor, smashed to bits. The fridge was also torn apart, and well as my father’s recliner. The trail of dirt become trails of dirt, one leading in from the back door, the other from the front.
There was one final detail that gave me the biggest clue as to whom visited me last night. The picture I had taken from the fridge, the one of my siblings and parents, and very delicately been picked up from the floor and placed on the mantle above the fireplace filled with ash. It seems like that was the one thing in the house that I had touched that they weren’t willing to destroy. Angry tears filled my eyes, but determination filled my heart. They weren’t going to get away with this.
I stepped out the now open front doorway over the fallen door. The morning light was beautiful, casting its rays on a new year, but more importantly, on the trails of dirt converging from the back and front of the house, leading west into the woods and towards a certain cemetery about 7 miles away. I was in awe that their hatred of me was so powerful they’d walk 14 miles just to do this. But karma is always a bitch, and I vowed I’d make them wish they’d stayed buried.
I walked over to my car and examined the mess. Side windows smashed, random claw looking marks on the side doors, but worst of all, the message scraped onto the hood: You are not our son. I stared down at that simple phrase with my fists clenched in rage at my sides. In their eyes, I wasn’t their son, and I would never be their son. I was only their youngest little girl, Jessica, in their eyes. Granted, I didn’t know 100% for sure that I was Ryan, not Jessica, until I was 16, so I caught them by surprise, but they could not have handled my coming out in a worse way.
“I want you to never step another foot in MY house AGAIN!” I remember my father screaming this to me as I stood on the front porch, what few possessions I could fit in a knapsack on my back. I remember mother just standing there, hand on my father’s shoulder and saying nothing, while also giving me this stare of absolute disgust and rejection. I had found who I truly was, and it had only cost me my parents and my home.
I got in my car and turned the key. Luckily, they hadn’t smashed the windshield, so I could still see out the front. As I turned around and drove away, I smiled to myself. So, the folks were that adamant about me never going home again that not even death could stop them? Fine with me. I reached into my glove compartment and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Lighting one and taking a deep drag, I stopped at the end of the long drive way and took one last look at the house in the rear-view mirror. It was new years day, so no one was open, but tomorrow, I had a few phone calls to make. One would be to my real estate agent, telling her that unfortunately I’ve decided against selling the house. The other call would be to the land developer who’d approached me about buying my property. I would sell him the land, with only one stipulation: that I would be allowed to be there the day they bulldozed the place to the fucking ground.
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2022.01.18 04:23 Serenaa12 That's one way to convert a fan, Salman Khan.
|submitted by Serenaa12 to biggboss [link] [comments]|
2022.01.18 04:23 MentalTest2 Karma for Karma
2022.01.18 04:23 Hear04 ScareCrow
2022.01.18 04:23 hnaah What are you most proud of ?
2022.01.18 04:23 ctfbitchcraft Anyone able to give some quick advice?
Hello! I'm between therapists and have some questions. I'm sort of spiralling, and would just love some advice since I can't see a therapist yet.
I guess I'm just wondering there's any potential for me to have real relationships?
The short version is I grew up in a household where my father physically and emotionally abused me and my brother. He taught us emotions were bad, and would punish us for crying. I grew up unable to recognise my emotions, even after the abuse stopped. I grew up, for a while, thinking I had no emotions. I felt/feel empty inside. I know I have emotions, big emotions, even if I can't sometimes recognise what they are. I've done a lot of growing. I've learned to be a young woman — learned to show the right emotions at the right time (because alot of them don't come natural to me), make small talk, build friendships. But it all feels so, so fake. I want to feel real friendship. I want to feel love. I think I can't. I don't know if I'm aromantic and asexual, or there's something wrong with me, but I just don't feel them. I've even considered being autistic. Or if I do, it's so, so shallow. It's so fucking lonely. I've had many partners and wished I could feel for them what I think they felt for me. Which makes me feel terrible, thus ending the relationships. It just feels like I'm leading them on. Even friendships, I have no real friends. I have a series of short lasted friendships throughout my life. It's like a charade. I hate feeling like this. I feel like I have no real self, and when people realise that, I move on before they can move on themselves.
I don't know if it's trauma, and like maybe I could work through it and feel normal. Or if I was born like is? Is it autism? I just want to know if there's a chance.
I'm in my early 20's and see everyone enjoying life, and I just want to feel normal. I just want to find someone who I love and who loves me. Am I a bit too far fucked for that?
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2022.01.18 04:23 A-pipe-dream Acrylic pour painting on canvas Fluid art Original abstract painting Contemporary art Small wall art Modern wall art 26x18"
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