Loves truck stop bloomington il

Hey All,
I am heading out on a road trip to see some family. I starting from western Mass to Denver CO and thought it would be a fun idea to have all the expert travelers in this sub craft out my trip for me.
The details of the trip so far are:
- I have a converted camper set up so I'll be cooking most of my meals unless there is an absolute must-stop restaurant along the way.
- I'll be traveling with my pup so looking to park in areas that allow me to get him the exercise he needs along the way. I also would appreciate dog-friendly attractions as I don't care to leave him alone for long stretches at a time.
- I am a very outdoorsy person and would love to experience the best of each state along the way. Big plus to hot springs/national parks and welcoming rustic towns. While I am from the East Coast cities are fine and all but not my forte.
- I also love concerts/live music so was planning on seeing Shakey Graves in Red Rock.
- I want to be in Denver by the 21/22nd of this month
- I don't mind taking my time on the way back but was planning on getting to Denver at a faster pace than I'd be returning. Was thinking Interstate 80 was the best bet for that. On the way home I don't mind shorter stretches of driving and going more out of my way if there was a place worth hanging around for a bit.
Any and all suggestions/recommendations are appreciated. Thank you for reading through! I'll be adding an itinerary as your input comes in.

Hi there! Our family is driving through Roanoke for a vacation in Tennessee and we need a fun playground to stop at for an hour or so to picnic and play. Will have three kids ages 2-4. Would love a little splash/water pad, but not necessary. Any recommendations? Thanks!

Hey there. I am a teenager who has never in their entire life downloaded any other mainstream social media than Discord (which I don’t use anymore after I left my only online friend that caused my low self-esteem to spiral) because I tend to live inside my own head, but nowadays it's getting really out of hand. It all started with my high-functioning intrusive thoughts ever since December of 2022. Every day I feel like I strive further from healing and I struggle to find hope nowadays. When I'm actually happy, I'm questioning myself via existential/nihilistic-driven thoughts while benefiting from these and feeling like I can conquer all of this in no time (I've realized it’s another cycle), but everyday I return and almost never get good sleep. It's been turning even worse ever since last month, where my brain realized it CAN BECOME alive EVEN within my deep inconsious mind. Today I haven't slept even a single second, however I have only let my brain stop for 20 minutes. I am the ruler of this mind, but due to low self-esteem I drop the sword I used to charge with pride at others - thus my insightful mind. I don't want to make this longer as this would spiral out of topic - however the only reason I installed Reddit is because I am extremely hopeless especially when my parents cannot comprehend what I am going through. They only turn out to be aggressive and classically call me a psychopath, despite the fact these intrusive thoughts have nothing to do with psychopathy; just stopping my flow of thoughts and blocking me from being innovative (+ restricting me from feeling intense emotions like euphoria.. i used to be an emotionally-responding child in a positive way). Being restricted from something you love feels painful especially when knowing the thought itself is the only thing standing and blocking your sense of "innovativeness" and not being able to conquer it due to low self-esteem, which is, on the other hand, the REAL problem and the cause of this all. People say that Insomnia is often cause by another internal (possible, as my intrusive thinking/O-OCD is not diagnosed) mental health issue. Everyday I hope less and less, everyday I worry more despite knowing worrying will definitely make it worse, but I just cant help it due to my all-time-low self esteem. I miss being happy and not depriving myself of euphoria and wonder for this world I used to feel like an infant child. I've even called a hotline at 4 am and they just disregarded me as any other "kid" that has called to them, thinking I will get better on my own within few days because they think I will get tired of it. My country is very little, so this was one of my last choices. Side question: should I battle for a therapist? (I've got only 1 friend I have vented to over a hundred times but by no means is she a professional to help me out.)

I posted in here a few months ago but lost the login details so I'm having to use a new account. I have been seriously struggling with my anxiety and depression for about 3 years now, mostly due to the fact that I was in a relationship with a perfect guy but I couldn't stop thinking about women and the fact that I may possibly be lesbian/bi with a strong preference for women. This situation has genuinely broken me from the inside out as I couldn't let go of my wonderful, amazing boyfriend but it was also clear to me that committing to a heterosexual relationship was causing me a lot of pain. For context, I've never been with a woman romantically at all.
It became clear to me that I was also causing my boyfriend pain by not fully committing to him, and I ended our relationship on Friday. Since then, I have been in a whole new world of pain and I actually can't believe I'm letting him go. Although my feelings for women are very real and something I need to explore, my relationship with my boyfriend has been genuine and pure from the start and he loved me in a way I always imagined and hoped I would be. He's been nothing but supportive considering I've completely shattered his heart and he is devastated that the relationship is over and we're losing each other. He's been my best friend and support, and during this whole process I've distanced myself from all of my friends due to the depression and now I feel completely and truly alone.
I have had to move back into my parents house while I heal and sort myself out a more permanent solution. My family have never been good with emotional stuff and no one has really asked me how I am since being home, despite walking around with swollen eyes from all the crying I've been doing. They know how much the relationship meant to me and their unsupportiveness is killing me and I could explode from all the emotion I'm feeling right now. Some words of support to get me though these first raw and fragile days would be so appreciated. It's so cruel that right now I need my boyfriend and his wonderful, gentle way more than ever and I can't turn to him for help.

Hi everyone - looking for a bit of advice and also sharing experiences about now versus then. Plus issues related to the lack of agency/control I feel we have even as grown ass adults against physicians who believe their jobs to catch us lying and make assumptions about our lives, while paternally patting us on the head like small children. Between pop culture currently having big nostalgia moments right now (Thank You for your service, Judy Blume), plus the fact I've got a tween daughter, I can help but remember the special hellscape that existed for me from when I was a few years younger than my daughter all the way through 8th grade. During that time I really did try to fit in, something that in hindsight only made things worse. I just remember clothing being tough to find. And while I didn't get boobs until I was practically in college, I somehow grew the bottom half of a full grown woman by the time I'd finished 5th grade except for the length of my inseam was stuck in third grade, as was the space where a waist should be. My mom was so supportive and thankfully, because she could sew, did what she couple to alter the jeans of the day (jordache & Calvin's from the JRS section initially, but the misses by 6th grade) and sometimes made things for me that I liked but weren't available. So I looked nice enough, but the kids were merciless when teasing and I was bullied to the extreme at my school, living in fear of changing for gym and wondering how many times that day I'd get hit in the back of my head with a basketball. (Not surprising that 30+ years later I found it tough to take my son to BB practice because of the intense sounds and smells nearly knocked me into a full on panic, but I managed). Anyway, by early high school I found myself and my people through the music I fell in love with, so despite this meaning I was a goth living in the American south during the satanic panic, people being a little scared of me before they got to know me was WAAAAAAY better than the fat shaming & torture 24/7. Fast forward to now, and my daughter will be starting 5th grade in the new school year. So far so good with the teasing through 4th. She hasn't made close friends but has Cubs friends. she likes what she likes. It really is the following year I fear, middle school, when all hell breaks loose. But I am also worried about 5th grade too as each of my older kids had tough times then as all the hormones ramp up and it can all go a lot Hunger games with mean girls. So advice/perspective needed: If you've helped a daughter get through the middle years of clothes sizing awkwardness, how did you do it? -Are there stores or brands you recommend, either online or brick and mortar? -My middle school experience was particularly bad because it was a small private school where I now get would take the kids public schools would reject. My mother thought she was protecting us ha! But what was regular public school girls gym like? She we just plan to find an off campus PE option? - can you recommend any resources to help with her long list of food rejections and very short list of foods she will eat? We don't label food good or bad or make anyone eat anything or restrict (unless it means there won't be any dinner left for someone who hasn't eaten yet and one of my teenagers is going in for round two). I am concerned about her lack of calcium intake as she only has what she gets in milk with cereal. She won't eat or drink any other dairy products except vanilla ice cream, but that can upset her tummy. She doesn't eat bread either, which means with the exception of cake, we don't have to put much effort in keeping her away from gluten. I know - one more quirk inherited, ha at least that one isn't from my side as well. My husband & I had no idea just how much neurodiversity we had going on in ourselves (and some of us cough not me still refuse to believe they have ADHD like the rest of us) and the rest of our families. It is beyond frustrating the assumptions made by society about fat kids and what foods/how much they eat. I honestly think my daughter isn't eating enough based on myplate meal plans. And one of her cousins has ARFID. Of course treatment was delayed by the assumption it was anorexia and the refusal to eat was by choice and throwing up afterwards assumed to be self-induced. I had a similar issue at one point. All but one of the people I saw in the medical field wanted to high-five me for finally being in a 'normal' BMI and/or refusing to believe it was a plumbing issue and I was simply in denial about being bulimic. At the exact same time a new pain mismanagement specialist refused to believe the same plumbing problems meant I could not safely take naproxen. I had records & imaging reports available but he told me he needed his own done and until then I wasn't to be trusted that I wasn't just a drug seeker. He tossed me sample bottles of Naproxen coated with nexium. Pain got too terrible so I tried them for a week or so. Two weeks after I had that appointment (and also an upperGI to confirm it was a plumbing issue), I coughed up a few speckles of blood. GI doc, the only goody In this story told me to come in the next day. But early the next morning I woke up with terrible cramps and the need to go. As I stood up I realised I was in shock as I collapsed straight down onto my butt and heard a crack followed by bolts of lightning shocks of pain. As I tried to make it I realised our bathroom floor was covered in bloody grossness and that I was clearly bleeding internally. Fast forward to getting to the ER woozy with shock my husband couldn't get anyone to bring a stretcher and it's a blur but they put in a central line while I was awake - SCARY. My Gi doc was notified and when they went in with the scope my oesophagus had a new feature - a very deep hole on a vein that wasn't in the series he'd taken just two week before! After they finished my blood and plasma transfusions next stop was X-rays. So on top of the ulcer I had two compression fractures, L1 & L2. I wore a brace a month before having surgery to secure them. At 42 years old I had lost an inch of height & was diagnosed with osteoporosis. I have to wonder will it still be like this when our kids become the grownups. Or will it be worse?! I can't help but think dieting since I was 8 and losing and regaining the same 100lbs surely wasn't good for my bones! I so much want my daughter to not go through the same shit!

With what I am about to write, I risk receiving a lot of hate. I would like to ask you to consider that I am also someone with a heart and not just a digital message on a forum.
I am in a dead-end relationship and have tried everything for at least 15 years to change the dynamics. I haven't succeeded, but I wanted to remain faithful.
Back in time... My first love was a holiday romance. In a time without the internet and expensive phone costs, the distance was insurmountable. I got married but never forgot about him. Many, many years later, I found myself in a dead-end relationship, and I received a message from him. He had never forgotten me, turned out to be in a dead-end relationship too, and we found an emotional connection. We have been writing to each other for a few years and have met a few times. The attraction for me is of an unprecedented strength.
I have truly blossomed during these years. He wants to make another attempt to save his dead-end relationship. He's afraid to go too far with me (it's hard to stop it), that's why he cut off contact. Out of respect for their couple, I won't reach out anymore.
But because of the emotional affair, I know how intensely I desire him as well as intimacy in general. It is so clear to me that I don't want to go back to my dead-end relationship.
In a way, it's a breakthrough that I'm very happy about because I have found the courage to detach myself. But the longing for the other person after so many years in a dead-end relationship is incredibly strong.
Well, why am I sharing this? Because I want to shout out how wonderful it is to desire so intensely again. But I also think, for some comforting words, because I miss my first love deeply.

He was incredibly hot for me, tall, athletic, handsome. I was thinking of him for longe before that happened. When I got to know he's gonna go to that party without his girlfriend (they've been together for 7 years but I knew they've got some problems), there will be time for me.
I was teasing him all evening, made him massage my feet, cuddle with me in a hot tub, other people were looking at it very weirdly but they did not say a word. I knew I am not doing good thing, but it was stronger than me. I also saw he's attracted into me.
After the party we slept over on my place. I was the one who offered it. He agreed, though it does not mean I did a good thing. He said this sex was best in his life, he left his girl for being in FWB with me which goes on for 4 months now and I start to feel incredibly big guilt, I am feeling like shit for what I've done. I know some people stopped talking to me and to him.
I started being viewed very negatively by my friends. I don't really know what to do now. FWB with him satisfies me, but I feel like a total trash of a person. I don't know if I shouldn't go to therapy or something. Any help I would love.
tl;dr I made my friend cheat and leave his GF for having FWB with me, now I feel like trash and idk what to do

My partner passed away last year by suicide. Not the first time I’ve lost someone close to suicide as I lost my best friend 5 years ago too. I was depressed before this and had been getting ‘better’ before my partner took his life.
Now I’ve never felt so heartbroken and down in my life. I’ve had to move out of our apartment, as I couldn’t pay rent due to the debilitating grief causing me unable to work. I’ve had to move away into the country to live with my dad, away from all of my friends.
I did get a dog. She’s the only thing that’s keeping me from doing something stupid, and I’m back at work now, which keeps me busy.
I just feel so isolated and I no longer feel like I can talk to my friends because none of them talk to me. My dad is a good support and I appreciate that. But I’m lonely, heartbroken, depressed and even though I don’t want to be, I am suicidal. I can’t afford therapy. I don’t want to go on meds again.
I think about it everyday. Just stopping the pain and slipping away. I’m so tired of it. So exhausted. How come my partner and my friend got to leave? Why can’t I? Why can’t I let myself go? Why do I have to look after everyone all the time? It’s a burden being loved sometimes.
I don’t know what to do

Back in 2018, I was bullied by a bunch of asshole classmates. They created a fake account where everyone had access to the password. Later on I had to move to another city due to my father's job. A guy from the bully squad had approached me multiple times and told me how much he liked me but I turned him down despite his attempts. To seek revenge he befriended my friend from my current high school, made her fall in love then she went against me. He even instructed our mutual friends to send pictures of them holding hands to me even tho I don't care?
Despite knowing it all, my mom says I get very sensitive whenever I hear their names. They were very young so I should just forget about it. He really likes me. And sort of brings up their names whenever I am talking about any sort of issues?Even went as far as saying she would give my hand for marriage if he is the last guy on earth because he is not that bad. Also regularly stalks him on social media. I cried and begged to ask her to stop and she just doesn't stop. This is getting so annoying.

."What Chuck says doesn't matter"... A youtuber said not long ago "Everybody keeps telling Jimmy he's a monster. So he'll become a monster." Kim Wexler said to Chuck "You've made him this way ... All he wants is your love and all you do is judge him."
I've been thinking ever since Jimmy yelled at Kim "you only see me as slippin' Jimmy!" even though she never indicated this was the case ... I've been thinking how much he was hurt by SOME people seeing him that way. How he couldn't simply decide that what others say and think doesn't matter and the only thing that matters is what kind of person HE, Jimmy,chooses to be.
​
Would you say to your friend,family,or to anyone: "You were born to have an eating disorder!"
or "You were always like this, always unlovable,destined to die alone, you're undeserving of love ever since you were 9 and your friend in school dumped you!"
or "You can't help it, you were born to suffer from depression and anxiety!"
Self-fullfilling prophecies, curses, can make the person steer into the skid, but that's not destiny. Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul are not a fantasy genre, or magical realism, they have no gods and wizards, all humans in the shows HAVE A CHOICE. Will you treat yourself and others with kindness and compassion or not? Nobody in BCS and BB is cursed to always choose only one of the two.
Stuff Jimmy did as a 9 year old or in high school is not unusual for many kids. Not all kids, but many, who still grow up to be good adults, they even make a 180 turn often, they regret certain actions from their younger days. I know I did.
I'm sad when I realize how we overlook that only 2 people saw Jimmy as a con man, as Slippin' Jimmy. Only two.

1. Chuck. Chuck did not see Jimmy objectively. Chuck was not God. He actively sabotaged Jimmy's career and repeatedly claimed that Jimmy cannot help doing certain things. Chuck even talks about Jimmy to Rebecca and she accepts these opinions as facts. This comes from Chuck's pain, jealousy, probably less love from his parents than Jimmy was given, and from other flaws in Chuck's character. Chuck doesn't love himself enough to simply love and celebrate other imperfect people. His words about Jimmy come from hurt and pain. These are not prophecies or words of God.
2. Howard. Howard yells at Jimmy that Jimmy was born this way in his very last speech. Howard is not objective. Howard is not God. He is hurt, angry, disappointed, and rightfully so. He says lots of truthful stuff about Kim and Jimmy, but his claim "Jimmy you can't help it, you were born that way" is not an objective statement, it's an attack coming from pain.

Jimmy and you and me can always make the decision that what these people think and say means nothing, it's their bias, their pain, their issues. We can still ignore it and make daily choices, again and again, about how we treat ourselves and others, and our acceptance of ourselves and compassion for ourselves can make our lives peaceful and joyful, no matter what the Chucks in our lives say.
Sadly, Rebecca says "What Chuck said about you is true", but she's not objective, either. She has accepted Chuck's biased words. She doesn't see what Chuck put Jimmy through at that point. She's not God.
There are more people who interact with Jimmy and who never claim he's nothing but a con man, or that he was born a certain way. Sadly, Jimmy doesn't realize that those people should be enough to help him make choices that don't hurt others and don't doom him.

1. Kim Wexler never says or indicates that Jimmy is doomed to always be a con man. When she says 'you're always down', in the argument, she refers to his 'kick a man when he's down' and she most likely means his financial or emotional struggles.
2. Mike Ehrmantraut has a professional relationship with Jimmy that almost becomes a friendship. He does tell Jimmy at one point that Kim saved hisass but he never tells or indicates that Jimmy is "always a certain way" or "born a certain way".
3. Huell directly asks Jimmy why do scams when he's a lawyer. Huell points out there's freedom of choice and that from Huell's perspective Jimmy doesn't "have to" do certain things, he can always choose.
4. Jesse Pinkman accepts help from Jimmy/Saul, often in exchange for money - but not always. Jesse describes Saul as a 'criminal lawyer' but that statement is only description of what is Saul known for. It's not judgement on whether or not Saul/Jimmy is capable of different choices. Jesse trusts Jimmy to give money to Andrea and Brock, regularly, and takes Jimmy's free advice to stop asking how they're doing and go visit them and rekindle the relationships.
5. Andrea Cantillo trusts Jimmy to tell her how Jesse is doing and Jimmy lies in order to not only make sure she's not worried but also so she doesn't feel abandoned: "He's good. He's busy." Andrea trusts Jimmy to let him even kneel down and talk to her son about his childhood memories and his childhood crush.
6. Brock Cantillo smiles twice when Jimmy talks to him. The same Brock who doesn't smile or talk to Heisenberg once their meet.
7. Francesca Liddy tells Jimmy after a workday with the elderly that he was great and the clients obviously like him. She changes her demeanor to more no-nonsense style, keeping him at arms length because he changes into Saul and she has to be careful around his new type of clients, but she never says or indicates that she thinks it's his core and he was "born that way".

You can always choose how you see yourself, what you believe about yourself and
how you will from now on treat others and yourself.
What Chuck says doesn't matter.

Today's going to be fun.
I want you to watch me, feast your eyes on every curve, every inch of my body.
You've been craving this, haven't you?
Now, get your cock out.
No stroking yet, just gently play with it while you watch me.
My ass, so round and firm, I bet it's driving you wild already.
Ready to start stroking?
Good, start slowly.
Savor the feeling, the anticipation.
As I play with my ass, continue stroking, a bit faster now.
Like what you see?
I bet you're desperate to touch, to feel...
Now look at my breasts.
You're so predictable.
I know exactly what you want.
Can you handle it if I show you a little more?
There they are, my perfect tits.
They make you want to stroke faster, don't they?
Do it, stroke faster for me.
That's it.
I want you to feel it build up, faster, until you think you're going to cum.
And then... STOP.
You didn't think I'd let you finish so soon, did you?
Now start again, this time slowly.
Build it up again.
My ass is your next focus.
It turns you on so much, doesn't it?
Faster, stroke it faster for me.
Can you feel it?
Are you close again?
And... STOP.
This is our game, and you love playing, don't you?
The anticipation, the control.
I hold all the power, and you love it.
Now, let's start again, this time I want you to get ready to finish for me.
Stroke faster and faster, bring yourself to the edge...
And when I count down...
I want you to explode for me.
Are you ready?
Good, here we go...
10...
9...
8...
Feel the tension building...
7...
6...
5...
Almost there...
4...
3...
2...
Hold it... hold it...
1...
Cum for me. Now!
That's right, give it all to me.
Feel the pleasure of letting go, of giving into me.
Bet it feels incredible, doesn't it?
See how much better it is when you wait, when you edge?
Good boy.
You've followed my instructions perfectly.
Now clean yourself up, relax, and remember this moment.
I'll be waiting for the next time you need to be put in your place.
Until then, my pet.

Hi,
I'm so sorry if this is triggering to some of you but I didn't know where else to post this and I can't keep trauma dumping on my friends and partner and I'm awaiting my trauma therapy to start up...
I told my mum eventually about the SA that happened between me and my grandfather when I was 4. (I don't know why I bothered with how she is, I guess I wanted her to finally see me and love me as a person who has suffered too and to be a mother in that moment). She looked shocked and informed me that the same thing happened to her when she was younger by the same man (her father) and instantly started asking me for specific details which I didn't feel at all ready to talk about, nor did I expect her to go straight in like that when I had just been directed to the crysis team for planning the long sleep. I was shocked and didn't know how to process it at the time but felt bad for her and ended up comforting her.
She also told my younger sister (we are half sisters but closer than anything) about what had happened even though I never said that was ok or that I was ready for people to know. In fact I specifically asked her not to. Plus my sister is only 16 and about to sit her own exams and I didn't want to stress her out with my trauma, it wasn't hers to have to worry about. (Also my grandfather had been dead for many years before my sister was born so it wasn't an event that would've affected her). When I confronted my mum about it she said "don't worry she's family, she can be strong for both of us" like no? She's 16! Stop using your children as emotional support and therapists and deciding they're mature enough to deal with this crap! It isn't fair!
She's always been entirely inappropriate. She used to make me answer the door to the baliffs as a manipulation technique and to say she wasn't in. She asked me advice on whether she should have a termination when I was 11....you get the idea....there is ALOT more but this is already a really long post.
I've had some time to think now and all I can think is...how could she leave me knowingly with him when she had this experience herself? She actively chose to leave me in a potentially unsafe situation frequently whilst her and my nan went out shopping. I'm feeling really empty and confused as to why she couldn't protect me. I'm also sick of having to constantly parent her, most of my trauma comes from having to drag her through life (cooking, cleaning, food shopping) from the age of 8 (I'm now nearly 30). I've left home and barely have a relationship with her. She's impossible to confront too, she starts crying and screaming and asking me why "I'd say all this to her when she knows how much she's going through" and that she's "tried her best" (even thought she spent my childhood on drugs and belittling me in front of her friends to make them laugh.) Then she calls me a bully when I call her out.
I get scared to even answer the phone to her because it will either be a) she needs help with something or getting somewhere (it's easier to say yes or she constantly harasses me or family members at all times of the night) or b) phones me up clearly drunk and over happy and trying to talk to me like we have a good relationship? I'm just waiting for her to die now, sounds awful I know but it's the only way I feel I will ever truly be free of her. It makes me feel like a monster to say this, I try my best to have compassion for others due to my experiences in life myself but she was meant to be my mum and I feel so alone.
Sorry I know this is all over the place and chaotic, I typed it out during my lunch break just to get everything down and hopefully making more sense! I just knew if anyone would understand it would be you guys in this group 💞

I hope this is the right place and someone can tell me what may have been going on in my village. I moved here a few weeks ago. It's a small village in the heart of Russia and my parents and I came here because things start to get really bad in Moscow and my father lost his job. I don't know why we had to move to this isolated village, so far away from civilization. Maybe my parents wanted peace and quiet? To escape the things in that city, the poisoned minds?
The houses here had all been far below average in price. Almost everyone who lives here has moved here recently.
But, there are crazy rumors about this village that people tell each other. It was found abandoned in the mid-nineties. Where everyone went, no one knows. They say that no signs of people were found at all, nothing. But... everywhere in and around the village… strange patches of earth had been discovered, circular and smooth. Not only in the forest or on the road, but also in the dilapidated wooden houses. At our new neighbors' house, one of the mysterious spots had supposedly been found right in the living room floor, where the floorboards had been just cut away.
These rumors scare me. I am afraid of this village. But yesterday... I was redoing the floor in my room with my father and there... I found a notebook under the old boards. I hid it from my father, I don't know why... Someone must have left it there.
Last night... that's when I read it. I read it and now I'm incredibly afraid of this house and this village. Of the fields and the woods that surround me. The notebook apparently belonged to someone called Ilya Vasiliev. I have tried to translate what he wrote, hoping that someone here can help me find an explanation for the rumors. For this uneasy feeling that I have since I moved here...
***********
I am fine. I want that to be clear from the beginning. My story is strange and in huge parts troubling, but I am still in the best state of mental health.
I am fine!
My story begins seven months ago, in December 1979, when deep winter was upon our village. We were preparing for Christmas, the first Christmas to be celebrated publicly throughout the village, after years of having to practice our faith in secret because the Soviet government did not allow religions. Only in the last few years did the Reds' view loosen and they allowed small islands of faith. One of them was my village, which finally dared to celebrate and praise the Lord.
I have been a believer all twenty years of my life, an exemplary Christian, just like my parents. Faith had kept our family line alive in times of terror and misery. Death had always been close to us, as the fields where most of the population of our village had worked for generations had once brought the end of hundreds of people. Many years ago, on those fields, atrocities had occurred that had finally given them their present name: The Fields of Death.
I myself had not been born back then, not by a long shot, but my grandparents had spent their childhood there, a childhood full of hunger and depravity. My grandfather Fomenko often told me and my sister the stories he had experienced and how faith had saved everyone. There had been a long, cold winter and the grain had been confiscated by the government to be taken to the cities for distribution. After all, the grain belonged to all the people, not just those on the farms who planted it, tended to it, and harvested it. And so, the only food of that time left my grandfather's village and never came back. Some of his neighbors had once tried to hold back some grain, to hide some sacks, but when they were caught, a hail of bullets determined their fate. People lived in fear, not daring to stop working, not daring to keep for themselves the food that was destined for the common good. In those days, horrors happened in my village that I cannot truly picture today, not even when I hear my grandfather's usually clear voice begin to tremble. When I see in his eyes that he would rather forget, in order to experience a peaceful sleep once again… someday.
He told us about those horrors to warn us of how quickly life can plunge from safety into infinite terror. Winter had reigned. The grain was being hauled away. They still shot all those who tried to keep back pieces of it, be it a sack or some husks that had fallen from a cart. In time, hunger began to drive people in our village insane. Parents locked up their children so they wouldn't be taken by neighbors to feed their hunger. Friends turned their backs on each other and killed each other in fights for the last livestock that was still breathing. The streets reeked of decay and death, of misery and suffering. One day, my grandfather told us, he had hidden in the back room of his house while his parents dragged themselves, emaciated, to the fields to pick the last scraps of grain from the furrows with their dirty, half-frozen fingers. He had come across a book there, a book that had saved his life.
The word of God. An old Bible.
My grandfather had learned to read at an early age, one of the sad advantages of living in the Soviet Union.
It was in the room I now live in that Grandfather Fomenko had found the dusty book. Actually, he had been looking for something to eat, the days before he had found some sawdust. But despite his hunger and the grumbling in his stomach, eating the book was out of the question. Books were sacred, and no book as sacred as this one. He had begun to read and learned about the greatness of the Lord. Of the miracles his Son had performed. And of the magic of faith. His stomach had growled, but he had ignored it. The words gave him comfort.
The next day he immersed himself in the book again, disappearing into better worlds and times, hearing wisdom and encouragement. But around noon there was a knock at the door. My grandfather emphasized each time that he had not been afraid, that he had known that the Lord would protect him, when the old neighbor gained entrance to our house armed with a cleaver. It was clear what he wanted: Meat. My grandfather told us each time about how the neighbor had looked more undead than human, stinking and with sunken eyes, smelling like death from his mouth, the cleaver trembling in his hand.
"I'm sorry, boy," was all the man could get out.
My grandfather tried to mimic this poor man’s voice at the end of his wits, to express his pain through words so that we understood that poor fellow a little.
The Lord's words had given courage to my grandfather in his most terrible moments. He had stood up and firmly said:
"Away with you, the Lord protects the inhabitants of this house!"
But the intruder did not care, coming closer. And so, my grandfather again sought comfort and prayed. He prayed for mercy and peace and for his life. He would serve the Lord for the rest of his days. Trust Him blindly.
Suddenly, like a gruesome miracle, the famished intruder let out an inhuman groan and collapsed, lifeless and debilitated. There had been no hunger for my grandfather and his family for a week after that. My grandfather had been praying to the Lord since that day, thanking Him for His mercy. The story spread around the village and out of desperation or hope, in the next few days everyone secretly knelt in front of small wooden crosses they had made themselves and prayed to the Lord. A week later, like a miracle, the long-awaited delivery of grain arrived, along with spring. There had not been another bad time since then.
These events are the reason for the faith in our village... and our family. The psalm my grandfather had prayed as the hungry neighbor attacked had become the guiding psalm of our faith. All these years we had not been able to celebrate Christmas with the other families, but since the restrictions on faith communities had been relaxed, we had all finally decided to celebrate the holy festival in the village square. And so, we started the preparations.
There, in those evening hours, my part of the story begins. I and my younger sister Zarina, together with other youths and young adults, were fetching wood for the fire that was to burn in the center of our village. So, we went out into the night, dressed with thick pelts, to fetch logs from the edge of the fields that some men had prepared.
My breath could be seen as an icy breeze in the dawning darkness and I was already looking forward to dancing around the fire with everyone later, drinking good drinks and eating sumptuously. I was glad that we didn't have to walk across the fields themselves, but could stroll along their edge to get the logs.
You can feel death when it has hit a place. I was glad that I didn't have to work the fields myself, and had learned the carpentry trade. Therefore, I was spared from having to wander around there every day, among the echoes of past atrocities and sadness.
We were all in good spirits, strolling over the muddy ground, when all at once Zarina pointed up and into the clear night sky.
"Look, an angel is descending!" she exclaimed excitedly.
We all looked to where her outstretched hand pointed. A round light glowed in the night sky, glaring yellowish and shining strangely cold.
"It's singing! At Christmas! The Lord puts our feast under his sign!" Zarina cried.
We stopped and listened into the silence of the night. At first, I could hear nothing, at first, everything remained quiet, and only the distant beating of axes and the rustling of the wind in the treetops were audible.
But then, there in the wind, I could hear it, briefly but clearly. It was a kind of melodic whisper, joyful, yet also strange and otherworldly. It was heard only very briefly, and soon died away as the glow flew out of sight and disappeared somewhere far away.
"Let's go find the angel! Let's..." Zarina cried, continuing excitedly, but I interrupted her.
"We have to get the wood. We can report back to the village later, if it hasn't already been noticed there too," I said.
"You heard the singing! Surely that was an angel. Shall we leave it there? It may have gotten hurt, it must have hit something!" Sasha murmured.
Sasha was my oldest friend and one of the boys who worked on the fields. He had always been very caring and had always tried to help where he could. His parents were long dead and the old lady who had raised him was no longer around, either. So, he struggled along, working the fields, but the rest of us looked out for him.
"Shouldn't we go and look for it, Ilya?", Sasha continued to urge me anxiously.
We thought about it for a long time but decided to leave the decision to the others in the village. Trusting the Lord to guide our actions, we quickly moved on in the direction of the woodcutters to complete our task.
We were not the only ones who had seen the glow. When we returned to the village square loaded with logs, everyone was in great excitement and full of joy that the Lord had sent us this sign of His greatness. Not everyone agreed whether it was an angel or a return of the poinsettia that had been witnessed, but everyone was sure that the Lord had sent us encouragement. So, we celebrated our first Christmas full of joy and pleasure, with good food, dancing and singing, full of happiness and under the protection of the Almighty Lord. I will always think back to those days, always keep in my heart how I glimpsed a part of the Lord in the sky.
We all talked about the event and even the older people were fascinated and inspired. Even my grandfather and the others who had witnessed the worst death and misery in the world seemed to slowly find a spiritual peace they would never have dreamed of otherwise. They were happy and strengthened in their faith. However, we were not sure if it had really been an angel who had come down and so we hesitated to go and look for the creature of God.
But in the night, after the light had shone in the sky, I was awakened by Zarina crying in her sleep. I straightened up and slowly paced over to her bed, where in the semi-darkness she began to squirm, shaken by spasms.
"No, no, no..." she moaned painfully.
I began to shake her to wake her up. Zarina did not respond to me. Her face was like a distorted mask hiding something bad underneath. Her breathing became shallow, and she began to whimper. I was terrified and began to pray. The Lord had to save her, He just had to save her!
Zarina twitched more and more, started coughing and whimpering louder and louder. Slowly, the rest of the family woke up and my parents and grandfather huddled tightly around her, praying for her to open her eyes.
"Please, don't take our child! She has only been in your world for fourteen years..." my father cried, as panicked and desperate as I had ever seen before.
His thick, black mustache trembled with fear.
Then, abruptly, Zarina stopped convulsing.
For a terrible moment she just lay there, her hair disheveled, her face pale in the glow of the candle my mother held over her.
"Mom, Dad, Ilya, Grandpa... what's wrong?" she suddenly asked sleepily.
For a moment it was as if nothing had happened, as if I hadn't just seen my sister almost die, but then she began to cry.
"What's wrong, dear?" my father asked, just as pale in the face as Zarina.
It took a while before she found some calm and was able to talk to us.
Finally, she croaked:
"I saw the angel. I was with him."
A revelation? Had the Lord touched my sister?
We all said another prayer and finally, filled with awe, I asked:
"Where did you see the angel? Is it here? With us?"
She looked at me briefly, seemed to hesitate for a little moment, and then reported:
"I was with it… in a dream. It was in a white village, a village made of angel dust. I saw it. It didn't have wings and that's why at first I wasn't sure if it was an angel. However, soon it spoke to me."
"What did it say, Zarina?", I asked tensely.
"It said it was not God, but 'the Witness'. It sounded like a man and a woman and a child and a baby and... It felt peaceful. Calm and carefree. Then I woke up."
"An angel. Angels are the witnesses of God, that's how it must be!" my father said enthusiastically.
Suddenly, everyone seemed to be talking at once.
No one knew what Zarina's words meant, but we were sure that they contained something incomprehensible that we, as ordinary people, could not understand. But everyone was delighted. Everyone was caught in a beautiful dream.
The next day, the adults sat together in the large barn near the edge of the village, which was used for community events. Most of them found seats on the lined up wooden benches and the rest stood crowded against the old walls, some of which were already rotten. Dimitri, probably the closest thing to a mayor, sat at a heavy pine table at the end of the room, staring at the crowd, while my parents and Zarina sat on old chairs in front of him. Tensely, the crowd looked at them, waiting for someone to say something. Finally, Dimitri cleared his throat thoughtfully.
"You... all saw or heard about the falling star. It was brighter than the others that keep crossing our sky and much more... melodic. Some even heard the singing. Whoever still doubted that the Lord sent us his messenger... doubts are now useless. Zarina has received a vision. She has seen how the angel, who was sent by God, walked on our earth, and visited a village and consecrated it with its grace. She has seen the angel marching to spread holiness in these lands..."
"Are we sure?"
Mary, the dressmaker, had stood up. She was still young, my age and Sasha's, and she always wore her blond hair carefully braided, her dresses self-made, blood red and flashy, with silver embroidery. As always, she wore makeup - a luxury not many could afford. In other places she would have been considered a lady, but she was also a skeptical person, and I had not liked her very much since childhood, because she often made insinuations that seemed to go against the Lord. Also, she had never played with us outside and had always thought of herself as someone… better. I was shocked that she now so obviously doubted the Lord's actions.
"Mary. Zarina has seen a vision. The Lord spoke to her through her dreams! An angel has joined us. How can you deny it?" my father asked coldly.
"I'm not denying it, I'm just saying, what if there is something dark that the angel was sent to fight? What if it is going into battle against some unknown evil? The angel may be spreading sanctities, but we have no idea if it is trying to redeem us or defend us..."
"It said it was a witness of God," I noted.
"That's what Zarina said when she woke up."
"Then it is benevolent to us! We must find it!" someone shouted from one of the back rows.
An excited murmur began to spread through the room.
"Silence!" Dimitri thundered.
His face looked hard but determined.
"We have to get to it! If it is a message from heaven that the angel wants to bring us, we must hear it! How many can we spare? Who would even want to voluntarily leave the village? We don't know how long the journey will be, and you yourselves know how dangerous this area can be..."
A loud commotion broke out. Everyone shouted at once and volunteered. I also jumped up and loudly offered to go out to look for it.
The angel. The Witness of the Lord.
I imagined meeting it in a clearing, under a full moon. Hearing its bright voice, gaze in awe at its graceful form, and fall to my knees in prayer before it.
"SILENCE!" Dimitri shouted.
"You can't all go. The kids wouldn't make it in the deadly cold out there. Let seven go. Seven is the Lord's number, there must be seven! Seven workers from the fields! We can't spare any more!"
"You can't be serious!" I cried out.
Cold anger boiled up inside me.
"I want to go, too. We all want to. You can't just stand there and make a decision like that!"
Others joined in.
"SILENCE," Alexeij now thundered, the master blacksmith.
"We need you! Daniil, Ilya, Nikita, you have a job to do! We can't get by without you! You can't go, be reasonable!"
"But if the Lord wills it, he will make sure that everything here will work out. That nothing will happen!", I tried to argue, still boiling with anger.
"No. Winter is tugging at our huts, we need you," my father said slowly.
"So do the others. Without you, it's going to be tight. The fields lie under the snow, but everything else will be weakened by time and storms. We can only spare the field hands. Besides, they're the ones most likely to withstand the cold and the wilderness; after all, they're constantly out on the Fields of Death, toiling in the wind and rain. They'll all make the trip!"
I tried to change his mind, and several came to my aid, all those who were also forced to stay.
"You can manage without a dressmaker! I want to go too!" Mary cried defiantly, her cheeks red with anger, her nose wrinkled.
This young woman really believed she deserved the sight of the angel! She really believed her hypocrisies would deceive the Lord, despite her obvious doubts about His divinity!
Others also complained, young and old, many who didn't deserve to go and even those who did.
But it didn't help.
Dimitri was in charge. Everyone knew that. If we started to contradict him, our village would soon end up in chaos. And deep down I knew that I had to stay. That I had to take care of my sister, who would not survive a trip in the snow. That I had to repair the huts that the storms would eat away at.
Sasha was a field worker, he was allowed to go. Sasha and Sofia, Anatoly and old Igor, Ivan and Yulia and Mikhail. When the decision was made, a decision many of us accepted only with heavy hearts and which brought out deep envy in several faces, some of the chosen ones began to cry. They were happy, fulfilled... satisfied. They would see the messenger of the Lord, hear its melodious voice, sing its hymns.
Why wasn't I allowed to go? Why was the world so unfair? I had always believed in the Lord, prayed to Him, been subject to Him and lived according to His will. Why hadn't he chosen me to see his messenger? I had been so proud back when I had been allowed to learn the carpenter's trade and thus had not to go to the Fields of Death to toil there. At that time, I had felt like someone better when I saw Sasha and Sofia setting out early in the morning with all the other workers, with their old-fashioned plows and thick, shabby clothes.
Was this the punishment for my arrogance?
The Lord knew everything. He had seen what repulsive thoughts I had had, how superior I had felt to the others. Perhaps it was my punishment that I was not allowed to go. Perhaps the Lord was no longer favorable to me and I would have to prove myself to Him.
The next day, the seven set out north. They were seen off with singing and dancing; they were the center of the village’s attention. Envy threatened to drown me.
Why not me? Why wasn't I allowed to go? Why did I have to stay here?
And I knew: it was because of these thoughts. I wasn't pure enough. I had to get better, work on myself.
As the others disappeared from sight, as the small group seemed to be swallowed up by a patch of forest between distant trees, an icy chill ran down my spine.
What if they really did encounter evil? What if Mary had been right?
I prayed to the Lord that they would return home safely: Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
He would bring them home safely, our pilgrims. I did not begrudge them their happiness. I was not a selfish person, was not complacent like Mary or some others in the village. I lived by the word of the Lord and I would not begrudge them.
They would all return home safely.
I continued to stare into the distance for a long time as my suppressed envy sought to consume me. But I was winning.
For darkness is as light to you.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Even though the days and weeks passed, I never forgot to think of all those who had set out to witness the glory of the Lord. The cold winter had passed and frost and cold left the land, so that soon we could begin to prepare the fields for sowing. Since the sighting of the angel had caused us to let some of the farm workers leave, and they stayed away longer than we had expected, I had to join others in helping to plow the Fields of Death. The work was exhausting and made me physically very tired, since I still had to work in the carpenter's shop as well. We could not afford tractors, so we still had to resort to older tools. So, it happened that one day I was driving one of the hand plows through the dirty ground and was lost in my thoughts and full of sweat.
I was quite far away from the village, as the nearby surroundings had been worked shortly after the beginning of the thaw. The fields were extensive, partly reaching further than the eye could see. Only in one direction the dense forest extended, which introduced the beginning of a dark hilly landscape, that finally merged northward into high, alien mountains, whose white peaks rose high into the sky and, like once the tower of Babel, blasphemously tried to penetrate the heavens. But next to these distant giants there was only the plain, the vast plain that had to be tilled.
I hated the field work. And I hated the fields.
Every time I even thought about this piece of hell that had become reality long ago, my stomach turned. All the events that clung to this dark place, all the human lives and suffering that had sown the ground with death and blood here many years ago....
It was even worse when you stood in the fields yourself, truly being there on your own. It was as if I could smell it in the air, the rot of the starving and the hot blood that had watered the soil. It was as if I could still hear in the air the cries and wailing of the people who had met their end here, who had pleaded for their lives and the lives of their children and friends. It was as if I could see them in the early morning fog banks that lay on the Fields of Death, the shadows of people past, crawling and cowering, weak and starved. I had to pull myself together and look away, into the forest. A place does not forget, a place always remembers the days gone by and the cries that had been.
The plow pulled through the ground, ripping a furrow behind it. It was almost a bit comforting to imagine I was gutting this place of horror with my labor, inflicting deep wounds. Hypnotized, I stared down over and over again, watching the ground swirl to one side, smelling the fresh earth being pushed to the surface. But never could I escape my terrible feelings and the forebodings, never could I forget what kind of place I was at.
The few times I looked to the forest beside me, my thoughts wandered enviously to all those who had set out to find the angel. Had they reached it yet? Had they already learned from it what needed to be done for God's power on earth to be strengthened so that false prophets and promises could be swept away? How to drown the selfishness of the state? What needed to be done to serve the Lord?
Oh, how I would have loved to be there! How I would have loved to go with them, but I also understood the decision not to send everyone, and I understood my family's objections. I was needed here. I could serve the Lord here by tilling the fields and taking care of the soil and the sowing. I had to care for my sister.
I had already made several furrows when noon came. The sun was almost not visible, just a murky spot behind the clouds, and the fog had not lifted either. The world looked pale and apathetic. But amongst all the desolation I could suddenly hear something, something that seemed to come out of the forest.
It was at first just like a rustling in the wind that sounded a bit too regular, such that it triggered a natural uneasiness in me. I looked into the forest, but could hardly make out anything through the dense plants and the still lingering fog. That is why it was left to my own thoughts to imagine what was there, what was producing this strange noise.
I could not remember any animal that made similar sounds, was at a loss.
Suddenly, a bang echoed through the forest, accompanied by a panicked scream that broke inhumanly from the trees and spread across the fields.
Then, something new joined the sounds in the air.
The trees and bushes rustled, almost seemed to be torn apart.
Something was running through the forest, something seemed to be... coming right at me.
Was it perhaps a startled bear, an elk, or a wild boar?
Had one of the hunters from the village accidentally startled an animal, scared it in the wrong direction and now wanted to warn us with their cry? But then, why this panicked sound...?
I paused, took my hands off the rusty handles of the plow, and turned toward the forest. Still, I could only see fog, I could only hear rustling, but slowly I could also make out grunts and groans coming to me from the fog. It sounded heavy and panic-stricken.
Was I in danger? I began to pray to the Lord and ask him for assistance. I was not a fighter and so I had to hope that nothing would reach me from the depths between the trees that could easily tear me apart.
Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
My baptismal motto gave me courage. The Lord saw me, even in my darkness, and would be with me.
For darkness is as light to you.
Then, someone burst out of the bushes and the fog and rushed toward me.
It was Sasha.
I almost didn't recognize him. His skin was pale, almost snow-white. His black hair stuck to his sweaty face. His pants and jacket were almost completely torn, so I could see his dirty shirt and his cut and bruised legs through the holes. There were also some small cuts on his face that worried me. Sasha's eyes twitched searchingly, panicked, and in his hand, he held the rifle that he had taken with him when he had once set out. Apparently, he had run through brush and thorns, had gotten scrapes and wounds from stones and branches.
When he saw me and looked at me with his big, panic-filled eyes, I became horridly afraid.
It was as if… behind his eyes there was no Sasha anymore, but only an animal. As if instinct had taken over his thoughts when an unnamable terror had entered his world. An animal inside him, which had enabled him to escape from... something.
Sasha staggered out of the forest, it was almost as if all strength left him now that he was back home. The rifle fell from his hand and dug into the mud beneath his feet. He limped slowly toward me, not taking his eyes off me. Then, suddenly, he wheeled around and looked back into the forest and the mist.
Only for a moment.
Again, he let out a shrill scream and sprinted the last few meters. When I looked into the forest myself, I saw nothing, only the fog.
But, didn't I feel a presence there, in the bushes? Between the trees?
I didn't see anything.
Sasha had reached me and collapsed. I quickly knelt down next to him and called for help. But the other field workers had already rushed over, obviously attracted by the rifle shot. I was in a trance, seeing only Sasha lying there, supporting his head. His eyes were still twitching around and despite my proximity he didn't seem to recognize me. He looked at me, confused.
"Sasha, what happened?", I asked, feeling his forehead.
Despite his paleness, he was uncomfortably hot.
A fever raged in his body. Who knew how long he had been running around there among the trees, his protective, warming jacket torn? With wounds that had not been tended and some of which were still bleeding?
Then another horrible thought occurred to me.
"Sasha, where are the others? Sasha, where are the others?"
This question apparently brought back some clarity that his gaze had not possessed before.
"They... they took them. Took all of them... All of them. All our brothers, all our sisters... all of them," he gurgled.
*********
So, this is the first part of what I found. I will hurry to translate the rest! But I will definitely stay out of the woods for now... They are still as creepy as described by Ilya in this document and fog ist still around every morning... Also, I don't know what to make of Ilya himself as well, is he just a religious nut and that is the explanation? I just don't know...

If I react to the abuse does that make me an abuser? I try my best to get away when it starts. I try to avoid getting cornered but sometimes it’s impossible. I only fight back when the pain gets too bad or if he is over doing it and won’t stop. When I do hit him back he calls me the abuser and threatens to turn me in. He threatens me a lot and that is one of the big reasons I haven’t reported him. I get so angry sometimes that it’s happening again. Sometimes i feel like his behavior is not real, like this can’t be happening again. It often starts when I’m in bed or taking a bath I guess because I’m most defenseless. He will come into my room while I’m sleeping and rip my blankets off or scream at the top of his lungs. He is sleeping on the couch this morning because he is afraid I’m going to take his cameras down. When I walked by him I couldn’t help but rip his blankets off. I don’t like acting like that and i know it’s wrong. I just want him to suffer, just like i suffer. When he breaks something of mine i break something of his. When I treat him the way he treats me my hope is that he will see how ridiculous it is and stop his behavior. It doesn’t work.. lol I should know by now that I can’t help him or teach him how to be a normal loving peaceful kind person. My abuser was out of town over the weekend. This is the first time in three years he has left me alone in the house. It was very hard for me to relax and I was very jumpy all weekend. I convinced myself that if he comes home to a spotless house and mowed yard and animals that have been brushed and bathed and cared for. I thought this would make him happy. I cleaned non stop for 3 days. That didn’t work either. He threw his beer at me within 3 mins of him getting home. I guess I’ll be cleaning again today. Every time I go out of town I invite him but he rarely goes. He likes to stay home and abuse me over the phone. Calls and calls at all hours wants to FaceTime so he can see who is around me. When he was gone I thought he would come home fresh and renewed. He didn’t. It’s been awful. He is angry because the internet went out for an hour and he couldn’t see me on the cameras. I used to forgive him and take him back so quick and easy but that spark that I have clung to is finally gone. I don’t hate anyone but I’m starting to despise him to the point of no return. I don’t like being this person. I ask him if he ever gets tired of being the way he is but there is nothing wrong with him of course. I just had to rand this morning. I hope that everyone has a great week and that we make changes and find peace.

and when they said "I love you" I needed that. Holy cheese it gets me so... I don't even have words, if you want to chat about it please message me, I'm free for the next hour or so. I genuinely can't stop thinking about how good it feels to here those words and see my face covered in his sticky essences, yummy. Anyone else here feel the same? Or is it just a me thing? I've never felt pretty till now and it makes me so so happy.

Turned 29 and a friend jokingly told me to try indoor hobbies for a change and stop busting my knees. haha! Anyone up for a pottery class this June?
I see that the classes ranges from 2500 to 5000. We can choose one closest to you as long as it’s within the metro. I’ll be back from a trip next week so we can set a schedule that’ll work best for us.
About you:

• 18+ years old
• has a job
• can pay for your own expenses
• kakampink
• has lots of kwento

About me:

• loves to try new things
• outdoorsy
• can pay for my own
• can commute
• kakampink
• a huge sucker for stories

That’s basically it! We can chat if you wanna vibe background check. jk. DM me with your intro, your location, and days that works best for you. See ya!

So I literally just had the best nap ever, the kind that you don't even know what year you are in after waking up, for a while. I know, a bliss.
So, I saw this dream where everyone was so friendly to me. I was living in this home that was along a road, and every person passing by was saying hello to me with geniunity. This alone had made me so happy.
But the best one was that on the other side of the street there was this house where a really good looking guy had called out my name to say hi. And playfully and obvious to him I acted as though I did not realize him and I proceeded to make my way towards the door to close it. This in return caused him to jog over to my side, and once he did he pulled me in for a hug. In my dream, I was so excited that I sort of happily said his name and gave him a bear hug. And eventually we stopped hugging, then he said that we had forgotten to hug playfully and we hugged again. Only this time it was a little longer, and i hugged him tighter. It felt so good and warm. It made me so happy and I felt loved.
After seeing that, I just woke up sad because I can't even remember the last time I hugged someone or someone who was excited to see or talk to me.
Having this dream was a momentarily blessing but a prolonged kick in the face.

Hey guys, writing a very, very short novella for a competition (max word limit, only 5k) that's worth some money (6k) as its top prize. This is the first novella I'm writing, so I really need to see the general perception with some writers. To those willing to read the entire chunk, really love you guys!
Concept:
Humans are characters resulted from a film production studio in a 121 dimensional world (11 dimensions of our universe²⁾ universe is essentially the worldbuilding from their POV. However, since these beings are advanced in nature, they don't really control the character every second, but rather build their circumstances/situations along with their character itself. Once the character is built it has free will in it's own . Conflict only comes if their thoughts collide with situations, which why people IRL are never happy all the time. The studio works in a hierarchical structure; the head (known as the Author), regional heads (labelled by the galaxies, systems followed by the planets etc.) and finally the actual authors an architect like you see in Inception. Of course this studio is like an MNC (of a cinematic universe), churning out programs/shows/films/featurettes of nearly all interesting characters (usually heroic arcs, heartwarming stories, friendly and positive in general). After crafting the show, it goes through general editing and post production before being released. Regarding time, it's not a factor in this universe as the concept is only present in this cinematic universe, hence despite the interactions with a certain architect's characters with the others arisen from the situations, it's not relevant and in fact recommended for the dramatic appeal (daily lives we face are dramatic lol).
I have a lot to explain regarding the worldbuilding and characterization, unfortunately exposure to the stops at where the bold text ends.
Would the bold text be intriguing enough for the reader to read, without asking too many questions?
In addition, here's my synopsis. Tell me if it's too cliché/ or Shyamalan-like (especially the twist)
Synopsis:
The current author is facing a crisis in his company Esoteria when ratings drop, till one of his regional (guess, from Earth. Fashion is what you would see in a Wes Anderson film lmao.) intervenes with a possible new plot as a focus ahead of their cinematic universe. In the past they focused on popular coming-of-hero arcs(again, dramatic effect) but why not a normal struggling individual, something the author is looking for. Hence, they veer further into a story of a student (below, 2nd Para). However, for the first time in ages, he intends to use the Rultrappa (a passage that transports into the simulated world) to understand the character better (at least what the reader and the others around him thought). However he's tired of positive arcs overall. He just wants that universe burn, in a desperate attempt to bring his company back to the top.
A student with dyspraxia (he doesn't know though) is unable to fit into his school, as he faces challenges with peers and his confidence that he's just incapable. After a horror event when presenting his project on stage, he feels overwhelmed and goes missing (to his friends and family). However we follow the student where he rests on his favourite spot where he finds a mysterious sphere known as the Malfrost. The explosion of the Malfrost leads him to an isolated cottage where he encounters the Author. To escape (without consequences), he has to pass the test. However, the situation becomes real enough when a suprise twist comes in.
Spoilers:
>! His best friend, in a twist of fate who goes in search of him knowing the spot he likes, gets killed after protagonist exits !<
I know it's some weird ass blend of Truman Show/Matrix/Some random Shyamalan film, comments?

To fully understand my motives I have to start really early. So this might be a bit longer. Also I apologize for my english. Its not my first language.
I am hideous. When I was a born my birth didn't went without complications and this lead to me having a deformed head and a really hideous face. I grew up with that, got bullied in elementary school and when I reached high school I went a school where no one knew me. This was the opportunity for me to finally have a new start. But the bullying just got worse and I was depressive for a long time. During that time my skin condition got worse and I started to gain weight. On top of that I got into puberty really late so I had a childs voice until I was 17. I'm 19 now. I became quite thick and then I decided to cover myself up because I hoped that would stop the bullying.
I always woree a big hoodie and jeans to cover up my body entirely. I wore a beanie or the hood of my hoodie and when covid struck i finally had a good reason to wear a mask. I wore one before but it didn't went without complications either because of course teachers aren't happy if one of their students is wearing a mask during class. Lucky for me the bullying decreased indeed. I now was the weird one but at least I wasn't actively bullied like I was before. I got used to this and I kinda enjoyed that especially the newer ones were asking themselves who was behind that mask. Not that they would've been excited to find out. But I turned from the weirdo to the mysterious one. If you know what I mean.
I finished my school two years ago but my cover up remained my style. I wanted to study in an university either way so there was no reason to leave my cover up behind. My parents asked me several times to stop wearing my cover up but I refused because I was too scared that the bullying would start again once I show my face. I don't know how but I somehow found a girlfriend. She is the daughter of my moms best friend.
Her mom told her about me and my situation so she wasn't surprised when I came to our first date with my cover up. I met her before and I had a crush on her. I knew I couldn't exactly score with my looks so I just hoped she would like who I am despite my looks. And indeed it went well. We are now together for a year. She never saw me face in that entire year. We spent time with each other but yesterday I was pushed out of my comfort zone.
She wanted to have sex for the first time. We talked for many hours and she agreed to take it slow but she at least wanted to see my face. I felt scared and started to sweat. She assured me she will still love me no matter whats behind the mask. I started to undo the hoodie and put down the mask. I couldn't tell if her face was shocked or surprised but from experience I assumed the worst and wanted to put it on again but she grabbed my hand, kissed me and said that I look attractive and beautiful. I thought she was messing with me and laughed. I told her that of course she says that as my girlfriend but she can be honest with me.
But she said she was completely serious. She told me that she wanted to help me feel comfortable in my skin again. I would love to believe that I somehow went through a transformation when I got into puberty but if i look in the mirror I just don't see it. But I trusted her enough and today she almost saw me fully naked for the first time. I was so scared when she asked to see my body and started shivering while I undressed in front of her. At one point I was only wearing my boxershorts. The things she said. The compliments she gave me, the appreciation she showed to my body, the way she compared me to a greek statue felt good and almost made me cry.
This never happened to me before so it was something completely new. Afterwards she said she wants to take babysteps with me to a point where I feel comfortable enough to longer wear my cover up in public. She said there was nothing to be ashamed of about how I look. Tomorrow I promised her that we have our first time and even though I'm still nervous after today and yesterday I trust her.
Before that my room was the only place where I felt safe enough to not wear my cover up. Now I feel like I can do it with her as well. Maybe my appearance has changed indeed but why can't I see it then? Or maybe she was just nice and looks past my looks. I don't know. But one thing I know for sure. I can trust her enough to show myself to her. I love her so much.