"But since we have made mention of the Atlantioi (Atlanteans) [i.e. their war with the Amazons, see the following section], we believe that it will not be inappropriate in this place to recount what their myths relate about the genesis of the gods, in view of the fact that it does not differ greatly from the myths of the Greeks. Now the Atlantians, dwelling as they do in the regions on the edge of Okeanos (the Ocean) and inhabiting a fertile territory, are reputed far to excel their neighbours in reverence toward the gods and the humanity they showed in their dealings with strangers, and the gods, they say, were born among them. And their account, they maintain, is in agreement with that of the most renowned of the Greek poets [Homer, Iliad 14.200] when he represents Hera as saying: ‘For I go to see the ends of the bountiful earth, Okeanos source of the gods and Tethys divine their mother.’ This is the account given in their myth: Their first king was Ouranos (Uranus, Heaven), and he gathered the human beings, who dwelt in scattered habitations, within the shelter of a walled city and caused his subjects to cease from their lawless ways and their bestial manner of living, discovering for them the uses of cultivated fruits, how to store them up, and not a few other things which are of benefit to man; and he also subdued the larger part of the inhabited earth, in particular the regions to the west and the north. And since he was a careful observer of the stars he foretold many things which would take place throughout the world; and for the common people he introduced the year on the basis of the movement of the sun and the months on that of the moon, and instructed them in the seasons which recur year after year. Consequently the masses of the people, being ignorant of the eternal arrangement of the stars and marvelling at the events which were taking place as he had predicted, conceived that the man who taught such things partook of the nature of the gods, and after he had passed from among men they accorded to him immortal honours, both because of his benefactions and because of his knowledge of the stars; and then they transferred his name to the firmament of heaven, both because they thought that he had been so intimately acquainted with the risings and the settings of the stars and with whatever else took place in the firmament, and because they would surpass his benefactions by the magnitude of the honours which they would show him, in that for all subsequent time they proclaimed him to be the king of the universe. To Ouranos, the myth continues, were born forty-five sons from a number of wives, and, of these, eighteen, it is said, were by Titaia (Titaea), each of them bearing a distinct name, but all of them as a group were called, after their mother, Titanes (Titans). Titaia, because she was prudent and had brought about many good deeds for the peoples, was deified after her death by those whom she had helped and her name was changed to Gê (Earth). To Ouranos were also born daughters, the two eldest of whom were by far the most renowned above the others and were called Basileia (Queen) and Rhea, whom some also named Pandora. Of these daughters Basileia, who was the eldest and far excelled the others in both prudence and understanding, reared all her brothers, showing them collectively a mother's kindness; consequently she was given the appellation of ‘Great Mother’; and after her father had been translated from among men into the circle of the gods, with the approval of the masses and her brothers she succeeded to the royal dignity, though she was still a maiden and because of her exceedingly great chastity had been unwilling to unite in marriage with any man. But later, because of her desire to leave sons who should succeed to the throne, she united in marriage with Hyperion, one of her brothers, for whom she had the greatest affection. And when there were born to her two children, Helios (the Sun) and Selenê (the Moon), who were greatly admired for both their beauty and their chastity, the brothers of Basileia, they say, being envious of her because of her happy issue of children ad fearing that Hyperion would divert the royal power to himself, committed an utterly impious deed; for entering into a conspiracy among themselves they put Hyperion to the sword, and casting Helios [i.e. the child Phaethon of myth], who was still in years a child, into the Eridanos river, drowned him. When this crime came to light, Selene, who loved her brother very greatly, threw herself down from the roof, but as for his mother, while seeking his body along the river, her strength left her and falling into a swoon she beheld a vision in which she thought that Helios stood over her and urged her not to mourn the death of her children; for, he said, the Titanes would meet the punishment which they deserve, while he and his sister would be transformed, by some divine providence, into immortal natures, since that which had formerly been called ‘holy fire’ in the heavens would be called by men ‘the sun’ (hêlios) and that addresses as menê would be called ‘the moon’ (Selene). When she was aroused from the swoon she recounted to the common crowd both the dream and the misfortunes which had befallen her, asking that they render to the dead honours like those accorded to the gods and asserting that no man should thereafter touch her body. And after this she became frenzied, and seizing such of her daughter's playthings as could make a noise, she began to wander over the land, with her hair hanging free, inspired by the noise of the kettledrums and cymbals, so that those who saw her were struck with astonishment. And all men were filled with pity at her misfortune and some were clinging to her body, when there came a mighty storm and continuous crashes of thunder and lightning; and in the midst of this Basileia passed from sight, whereupon the crowds of people, amazed at this reversal of fortune, transferred the names and the honours of Helios and Selenê to the stars of the sky, and as for their mother, they considered her to be a goddess and erected altars to her, and imitating the incidents of her life by the pounding of the kettledrums and the clash of cymbals they rendered unto her in this way sacrifices and all other honours."
Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 3. 60. 1 - 61. 6 : [After a digression on Phrygian mythology following the passage above Diodorus continues with his Atlantian story.] "After the death of Hyperion, the myth relates, the kingdom was divided among the sons of Ouranos (Uranus), the most renowned of whom were Atlas and Kronos (Cronus). Of these sons Atlas received as his part the regions on the coast of Okeanos (the Ocean), and he not only gave the name of Atlantioi (Atlanteans) to his peoples but likewise called the greatest mountain in the land Atlas. They also say that he perfected the science of astrology and was the first to publish to mankind the doctrine of the sphere; and it was for this reason that the idea was held that he entire heavens were supported upon the shoulders of Atlas, the myth darkly hinting in this way at his discovery and description of the sphere. There were born to him a number of sons, one of whom was distinguished above the others for his piety, justice to his subjects, and love of mankind, his name being Hesperos (Evening-Star). This king, having once climbed to the peak of Mount Atlas, was suddenly snatched away by mighty winds while he was making his observations of the stars, and never was seen again; and because of the virtuous life he had lived and their pity for his sad fate the multitudes accorded to him immortal honours and called the brightest of the stars of heaven after him. Atlas, the myth goes on to relate, also had seven daughters, who as a group were called Atlantides [i.e. the Pleiades] after their father, but their individual names were Maia, Elektra (Electra), Taÿgetê (Taygeta), Steropê, Meropê, Halkyonê (Halcyone), and the last Kelaino (Celaeno). These daughters lay with the most renowned heroes and gods and thus became ancestors of the larger part of the race of human beings, giving birth to those who, because of their high achievements, came to be called gods and heroes; Maia the eldest, for instance, lay with Zeus and bore Hermes, who was the discoverer of many things for the use of mankind; similarly the other Atlantides also gave birth to renowned children, who became the founders in some instances of nations and in other cases of cities. Consequently, not only among certain barbarians but among the Greeks as well, the great majority of the most ancient heroes trace their descent back to the Atlantides. These daughters were also distinguished for their chastity and after their death attained to immortal honour among men, by whom they were both enthroned in the heavens and endowed with the appellation of Pleiades. The Atlantides were also called ‘nymphai’ (nymphs) because the natives of that land addressed their women by the common appellation of ‘nymphe.’ Kronos (Cronus), the brother of Atlas, the myth continues, who was a man notorious for his impiety and greed, married his sister Rhea, by whom he begat that Zeus who was later called ‘Olympios’ (Olympian) . . . Zeus, the son of Kronos, emulated a manner of life the opposite of that led by his father, and since he showed himself honourable and friendly to all, the masses addressed him as ‘father.’ As for his succession to the kingly power, some say that his father yielded it to him of his own accord, but others state that he was chosen as king by the masses because of the hatred they bore towards his father, and that when Kronos made war against him with he aid of the Titanes, Zeus overcame him in battle, and on gaining supreme power visited all the inhabited world, conferring benefactions upon the race of men. He was pre-eminent also in bodily strength and in all the other qualities of virtue and for this reason quickly became master of the entire world. And in general he showed all zeal to punish impious and wicked men and to show kindness to the masses. In return for all this, after he had passed from among men he was given the name of Zên [from the verb ‘to live’], because he was the cause of right ‘living’ among men, and those who had received his favours showed him honour by enthroning him in the heavens, all men eagerly acclaiming him as god and lord for ever of the whole universe. These, then, are in summary the facts regarding the teachings of the Atlantioi (Atlanteans) about the gods.”

Last time I took 2.5 (only 0.2 less), and smoked a bit less, and had an incredible trip. But now I have a higher weed tolerance as I smoke more regularly, and it was the day after doing edibles which also makes it higher for me.
We took them around 18:00, id last eaten at around 12. The previous times I’d taken them I got no visuals until I’d smoke some weed. This time, not even the weed seemed to help. After feeling almost no effects at all, around 2hrs / 3 joints in, suddenly all of it just switched 180 at once, plunging me into almost immediate ego death - without any gradual increase that could’ve clued me in - I didn’t have any pretty patterns, but instead begun having an utterly terrible trip. I can’t remember a lot, but eventually my sense of self disintegrated - I felt like everything in the universe was made of molecules and each one of them was angry at me. The sound of all of them screaming/screeching on top of their lungs was extremely disturbing. My friend looked like a hairy demon with 4 eyes, his image kept changing. His feet and hands as well as mine were bright pink and warped like curved bricks. I asked him to stay because I knew logically that he was my friend, but the image of him was mortifying. I felt sick to the stomach, I could not look anywhere but also could not close my eyes, as I saw disturbing images everywhere. I felt like I was no longer a person, but a concept, and so was he - like spirits in an empty interconnected void, and I was filled with fear. I begun to come down, but stayed incredibly paranoid for hours..
I really want to do shrooms again, because my previous experience was much more fun and enjoyable with pretty patterns and visuals and not this.. could such a Toby increase in dosage be the reason? Was it the weed? My mental state is also not as good these days & I am on atomoxetine, and we took them later at night rather than in the morning.

The weather has finally gotten warm in the Northern hemisphere, so everyone has been talking about amusement parks. People seem self-taught to see amusement parks as the embodiment of happiness. Those rides that are just like every other ride except with different loops, taller heights, slightly different views. The slightly odd food. All that walking. I have a friend who made a cartoon on YouTube a while ago (it's still up) that was a parody of this, where archeologists thousands of years from now unearthed Disneyworld asking what the huge giant metal structures and costumed entertainers were and wondered if Disneyworld was an avant-garde city-state like the Mayans had.
I don't mean this as a vent (it's not a vent), I'm used to not liking them as much as other people, and I know I won't be the only one who can relate. I was in a video chat owned by my school I've attended, and every year around this time they announce an end of the year trip to somewhere fun for students who had good grades/behavior (unless the criteria is different). This grew into what could be described as a solemn conversation as I casually mentioned a few times that riding rides, walking the walks, etc. is more like a chore for me for medical reasons, and asked "could we get a separate trip somewhere for those of us who don't enjoy amusement parks". There was a long silence, like what I asked was super unheard of. I don't ever remember riding a ride before or after I moved to America, but I've noticed when you say that out loud, it has an air to it like "wow she was sheltered", maybe in spite of the fact tycoons spend millions of dollars building individual roller coasters (so maybe they're trained to ask themselves "who won't ride this").
I didn't think I'd spend so much time asking myself about roller coasters today, whether the fact someone might not enjoy amusement parks (it's in the name) is a real oddity, a real rarity, a perceived oddity, or a rare oddity, whether it's cultural or if there aren't many who strongly prefer other adventures. The only metaphor I can describe it with is stumbling upon Willy Wonka's factory and being the one person who only likes vanilla candy and asking "is this a thing", it seems like a funday gamechanger. This sub is like the Disneyworld of Reddit (no pun intended), maybe it would know if my train of thought is familiar or not.

as title states, how good is vengeful wind? it doesnt feel like it does a lot (running a paragon 210 pattern of justice monk). i have won khim lau, and kyoshiros soul and am looking for a weapon to complement them, any recommendations? (anything that makes me deal more or take less dmg would be fine)

After seeing my crush get taken by someone surprising, my Dad was annoyed by me feeling upset over it and me comparing myself to the boyfriend…how much better I see him to be over me…
…he also got pissed off because out of a lack of energy from myself personally, our communication too broke down.
My Dad left me home alone today, for I guess, he’s still pissed after a night’s sleep.
I felt I had hit a new low. And…I couldn’t pull myself out of my room to get breakfast in the morning or lunch.
As I’m typing this much closer to dinner whilst sitting at a park somewhere…I’m really hungry, but I felt like I deserved the starve. Though I just bought a can of Diet Coke however.
I’m such a fuck up. No charm, no charisma, no future. A failure who is neither good at maintaining friendships nor finding someone who would accept me.
My only talent in life is having a death-wish whilst driving at midnight.

Why hello there, dear writer!
I've been working on a large mythological study in order to teach others how to understand mythology in a fast and easy way and couldn't help but notice all of the aspects in it that always seem to relate back to writing.
Mythology is a symbolic way of explaining what IS in the world, the objective qualities that we can then decipher into more fluid terms once we understand the symbolism of both who these mythological figures are and what they did. In my post about serials, I wrapped it up with a mirroring of how a serial writer would copy and live in the same way Bellerophon lived through his hero's journey, which resulted in him falling off a flying horse and landing on a bunch of prickly bushes, eyes first. None of us should expect this story to mean we, as serial writers, will literally fall off a flying horse in the near future, although that might happen to some with how genetic manipulation technology is going. No, it's more about how this symbolizes an eventual fall from grace once we try to enter areas where we don't belong, like when a human tried to enter Olympus.
But this isn't just about serial writing. This is going to be about being a writer in general and how the entire process happens, but explained in a pre-modernist context of what IS, rather than the deconstructive postmodernist context of what is NOT. I believe this will benefit anyone who sees it because understanding how being a writer works will also help a reader and vice versa. The relationship between reader and writer is what we call a dichotomy, a contrast between two things that are opposites. The reader reads the work after buying it and the writer wrote the work before selling it.
Some people might say "well I gave it away for free" or "I smuggled it in my ass without paying" but my point remains the same.
A reader needs a writer and a writer needs a reader. Even if the writer’s only reader is the writer themselves, they still have a reader to read the writing that they wrote. By the way, this post has been rated R for retardedly using so many words with the r sound. And speaking of retardation, I would like to go over a bit into how both of these sides handle things poorly in the postmodernist era, all so that we can understand the common result that we always come across in the current year.
Meet Wanda.
Wanda is a writer. But not just any writer. She’s a postmodernist. She’s so postmodernist that she misses her period whenever someone calls her one, because she gets that darn furious. How are you feeling there Wanda?
“Terrible…”
Why’s that?
“I can’t stop thinking about global warming, I hate the idea of private property, and people aren’t reacting well to the realistic figure of April O’Neil from the Seth Rogan TMNT movie.”
You mean the one that turned her from a beautiful red head into a burnt Mr. Krabs?
“That’s the one! And it’s such a shame because she represents all of the people that Hollywood doesn’t want to represent, and so they are ignored by media, as they’ve always been.”
Hollywood ignores feminist reporters? But I’ve seen so many Japanese videos where there’s a crowd watching them do their thing. Very intently, I might add.
“Not about that! I’m talking about black women, fat women, 12 year old women, women who don’t look feminine. And April is not the only one. There are all sorts of underrepresented types of people out there that never get their voices heard.”
So let me get this straight, Wanda the writer. You demand the representation of people in the media you watch so that a voice can be heard, but it doesn’t matter what they say as long as they are heard or as long as they are sort of there on the screen. Is this right?
“Not at all. I want these people, these poor defenseless minority people, to be represented in media and have their voices heard, even if what they have to say is not important.”
That’s pretty much what I said, but you know what? You’re the female writer here, so you must know what you’re doing. Now that you mention it, what are you doing to play your part in this whole goal of yours? Any minorities in your stories?
“Well… no. But I am writing about a white woman struggling against the patriarchy in the 1700s. I just hope nobody minds me using current year vernacular because you know how silly people sounded back then.”
Dead ass GOAT cheese, big chungus.
While she’s working on her thang, let’s meet another person who’s part of this relationship between writer and reader. Meet Ren. Ren is a reader. Not just a reader, but one who we could say is “clinically addicted to stories”. He reads books, online serials, watches booktubers to learn about more books, reads comic books, and manga.
“I even learned Japanese so I can read them before they get translated.”
Wow, now that’s dedication. This guy must really love media.
“More like I don’t have much to do while in college classes.”
Aren’t you supposed to learn things in college so you can use your degree for later?
“My degree is to be used?”
Anywho, I have a writer that I want you to meet. Her name is Wanda and does she have a story for you!
“Excellent. You know I love stories.”
I know, if pages didn’t give papercuts, you’d fuck a hole through the book. Been there, done that, don’t recommend it. So, Wanda’s story is something you will love. I assume you will because she sounded very sure about her main focus. She said that her book was about a woman dealing with something called the “patriarchy”. Now sure what that is, but I think it has to do with Patreon and arcs, so maybe it’s a serial that people support with donations.
“Doesn’t really interest me.”
Really? But… but there’s a woman in it and she’s… you know. Fighting the something or other.
“I mean, that’s fine. I have nothing against having a female protagonist, there’s plenty of those on Netflix, but I don’t know what the story is.”
Do you have to? I mean, does a story REALLY need to go somewhere for you to read it?
“No, it doesn’t need something to happen, but I… I don’t know. It’s like I need to at least know the setting to see if I like it.”
Is there a setting you DON’T like?
“Not really, I like any setting. But… look. You’re making this more difficult than it has to be. I just want to know what the plot is. Is that so hard to ask?”
But why do you need to know the plot if the story doesn’t need to go anywhere? In fact, Wanda said that you should be happy it has representation in the first place. That should be enough right there. Don’t you care about the voices of the minorities?
“I DO! You bet your sweet ass I do! I love minority voices. The kind that comes out of their mouth with those words and the sounds are heard from the vibrations in the air. I love all of that!”
Ok, calm down, it was just a-
“I’m not racist! You’re the racist for even asking such a thing!”
I didn’t mention race but let’s get off this to-
“You’re a fucking Nazi. I can’t believe you’d even think of asking something like that.”
Like grandfather like grandson, but I’m trying to get you to read the story that Wanda wrote and-
“No, you already had your chance. I’m done with this. You’re canceled! I’m going to make sure everyone I know on social media tries to deplatform you and make you homeless for good!”
That went well. But as you can see, there’s not much getting through to the postmodernist reader as long as they feel like they were offended and there’s not much coming out of the postmodernist writer other than virtue signaling for representation. If the postmodernist writer was correct, then people would be globally reacting positively to specifically representation and nothing else, but we’re not. If the postmodernist reader was correct, we would be enjoying pretty much everything that comes out and being fine with everything, but we’re not.
In fact, the globally acclaimed stories that have sold beautifully are all stories that do nothing of the sort. Remember, Harry Potter is considered the most evil thing by the woke postmodernist reader and writer, yet Harry Potter has sold half a billion copies and under half of that has been sold in English speaking countries. That means Harry Potter, a story that’s being called the worst thing ever by the woke postmodernist, is actually one of the best things ever across nearly every culture. People like it so much that they have decided to play a game that is merely based on the world, instead of trying to virtue signal along with the woke postmodernists who beg everyone to follow their narrative. Perhaps the reason why their narrative is failing is because they don’t know how to write properly.
But what exactly is the right way to write? How do we get the global connection that some writers know how to do but others don’t? The answer has been right in front of our faces this whole time and for about 2,000 years. You know where I’m going with this: it’s alchemy. The answer is found in alchemy, even if the people who do it don’t know that it’s in alchemy. However, no matter what, the postmodernist writer has to reject alchemy entirely because every single principle under alchemy is deemed as either offensive or false by the postmodernist.
Don’t believe me? Let’s check them out:

1. The all is mind; the universe is mental.

The postmodernist is forced to be materialist until they are told a gender exists, and that’s when they bend the rules a bit to say that gender is a mental thing, BUT mental is part of the brain, which is material. If they didn’t do this, they wouldn’t be able to defend anything hedonistic in their desires.

1. As above, so below.

The postmodernist is not allowed to believe this because they call this a “false dichotomy”.

1. Nothing rests, everything moves, everything vibrates.

I actually haven’t seen a postmodernist respond to this one, but I’m sure they’ll have some excuse or outlier of something that doesn’t vibrate. Or they will just deny science all together because everything is subjective to them.

1. Everything is dual, everything has its pairs of opposites, like and unlike are the same, opposites are identical in nature but different in degree.

I actually did speak to a postmodernist who denied this. They wanted proof of such a thing being true instead of being the one who finds proof of it being wrong. Remember, in their mind, the burden of proof is always on the one that’s established and never on the one who’s trying to reject the norm.

1. Everything flows, out and in.
2. Every cause has its effect.
3. Gender is in everything, everything has its masculine and feminine.

That last one is enough to get you canceled. The gender deconstructionist, aka non-binary advocate, will tell everyone that there are things like pansexual, potsexual, skilletsexual, woksexual. Everything and the kitchen sinksexual. They threaten to take their own lives if we don’t believe this. Alchemy, by simply existing, is the most offensive thing to these people. Alchemy, by simply being understood, is the most useful tool in creating a globally functional story.
Fancy that.
But how exactly does alchemy cause a story to be good? And not just good, but enjoyed by someone from one culture to another?
To understand it, we’re going to explain what writing even is.
Writing, in its most simplest form of process, is the act of taking an idea from an imaginary source, in the mind, and turning it into a thought. This thought is then turned into a coherent string of words in our head, which is then written down to be recorded in some form. Paper, computer, stone, the flesh of a corpse, whatever you want to use. It’s about symbolic ideas being transmogrified into words that are then to be read by someone else.
How does reading work?
Well, we take the writing process and do it backwards. The written text is read by the reader, which gives them a conscious thought, which is turned into an idea, and it comes back to them for emotional reactions. These emotional reactions range in intensity and in type: happiness, sadness, fear, disgust, anger, and surprise. These basic emotions are tied into our interest, which should be the first thing a writer studies in order to sell to people. One of the biggest questions for media is “what exactly are people interested in?”
The simple answer is: whatever causes a strong reaction from one of those basic emotions.
On social media, the most widely shared topics are ones that bring happiness, sadness, fear, disgust, anger, or surprise; with no real mixture of them. And not just that, but as close to that single reaction as possible. We don’t watch cat videos because we are afraid of cats, we watch them because we find happiness in their cuteness, which is a result of the protective caregiving reaction found in feminine emotions that was brought to us thanks to evolution, because without it we would ignore our babies and throw them into the prickly bushes when they’re annoying.
The reader emotionally reacting is what causes retention rates. We are unable to care about what was written if we don’t feel anything about the story. So what does mythology have to do with these emotions? A lot, actually. You see, Greek mythology had a lot of gods in its pantheon and some of the most primordial of gods were ones of emotion.
Before the Olympians and even before the titans, there were two primordial gods that had to give birth to pretty much everything: Nyx and Erebus. Nyx was the goddess of night and Erebus was the god of darkness. Darkness is meant to be a symbol of “impurity” or something like “the lack of enlightenment”. When we talk about darkness, we talk about something that is of the black part of Yin Yang, the Yin part. It is the chaos that combats against the order. Night is about the same, but for the entire world, because nighttime is that part of our lives when all the predators come out and try to eat us. However, night is also when we can view the stars and darkness is the area where we can focus better on the light.
From night and darkness were born several gods: Euphrosyne(happiness), Styx(hatred), Hybris(wantonness), Eleos(compassion), Nemesis(envy/revenge), Eris(discord), Epiphron(prudence), Eros(love), Oizys(misery), and Philotes(friendship).
These are all emotion based things. These are emotions that are so universal that they didn’t even need people to exist. These are the emotions that cause humans to exist instead of the other way around. The only emotions that aren’t part of that list directly are Corus(disgust), who is the son of Hybris; and fear, who was birthed by Ares(war) and Aphrodite(lust).
To the Greeks, disgust and fear were something that resulted from wantonness, which means to be reckless and out of control. I say this because exploitation and horror films that are meant to poke at our fears and disgust us are always designed to make us react by having us go out of control. We hoot and holler, then we usually laugh or just lose our lunch. But everything else is pretty much self explanatory.
Why are revenge stories so common? Nemesis.
Why are romance stories so common? Eros.
Why are stories about friendship so common? Philotes.
Why do I love to hate the villain? Styx.
These primordial gods are meant to be domains of these emotions, the sources of the emotions. So trying to get this emotion from a story as a reader is like visiting one of these domains, knocking on the door, and getting a big whiff of whatever’s going on there. Then our mind comes back to the brain and tells our chemical responders to respond in whatever way that causes the chemical reactions as a result of an emotion. The same happens when we are trying to write it, only we feel the emotion before we write it down.
When we watch a soap opera and get tied into the sad story and are crying our eyes out, we are sitting right there in the domain of Oizys, ready to feel anything else that’s similar. Oh look, all of these gods are siblings, meaning they are similar. What are the odds!
It’s almost as if pre-modernism had the answers out in the open for 2,000 years and postmodernists still deny it ever happened.
Ok, so emotions are important, sure. Even a postmodernist can accept that, even if they don’t accept the source of these emotions.
“Hey, I reject that!”
Oh look, it’s our good friend Ren the reader. But this is a different Ren, who is Renardo, but goes by Ren. What are you rejecting, Ren the Reader… the second?
“I reject the idea that we can feel anything at all in how the author intended. Author’s intent means nothing to the reader, and it’s all about reader’s interpretation. Death of the author is alive and well, and we prove it every day when we don’t understand what the author intended. And I’ll have you know, if the author says anything racist, sexist, homophobic, or transphobic in how I interpret something they say, then that means death TO the author for intending those interpretations!”
Whoa, reel back that weiner, Ren. Are you saying that an author has no idea what they’re talking about when they write something and only the reader’s interpretation matters at the end of the day? And you can blame the author for your interpretation?
“Not at all! I’m saying that whatever the author says is secondary to whatever the reader was thinking when it comes to the enjoyment of the reader. And when I interpret something, it’s their fault for making me interpret it that way.”
That’s basically what I just said but I think you’re onto something. In fact, you just accidentally agreed with ancient civilizations on what we call a messenger god.
“You called it a god instead of a godx?! Really? Are you that insensitive that you won’t include nonbinary godx?”
Yes, I am, but you’re forgetting that with gendered grammar, the masculine form is always used when a group of different genders-
“No, that’s not an excuse! How dare you use the patriarchy as a means of oppressing non-binary and indigenous third genders like the one from Thailand.”
As someone who’s actually been to Thailand and seen my fair share of ping pong shows, that third gender is there to remove rights, not to increase-
“I’m not listening to your facts for a single second more. Don’t you know that facts are racist? The internet will hear about your fact usage. You shall rue the day you ever tried to pull that fast one on me, sweaty!”
Talk about shooting the messenger. And speaking of, that’s what I wanted to talk about before Renaldo did… whatever he did.
Pretty much every mythology has a messenger god of a sort, including monotheistic religions. In Greek mythology, the god Hermes is the messenger of the gods and has several interesting origins, both within the mythology and from the conception of his mythology. It is highly likely that Hermes came from the Babylonian Isimund, who was a two faced messenger and advisor for the god Enki, with Enki being the god of water, magic, and creation. The reason those things combine is because the fertility of a woman and the fertilizer of a man are both water and cause creation of life. He was also the god of knowledge, which relates to how our water "humor" of phlegm is connected to our mouth and our brain.
You're probably thinking "what does this have to do with writing?"
Well, hold on for a bit, I'm getting to it.
Hermes was the messenger god for the Greeks but he was also the god of travel related things like speed and roads, cunning, wit, thieves, and he was also a psycopomp. And no, that doesn't mean he was a murderous cheerleader. A psychopomp is a soul guide, like Charon who leads a soul across the river of Styx or the crow who guides a soul to the spirit realm. But Hermes doesn't wait for you to die, he's the dude who takes ideas from the spirit world and puts them into your head.
Hermes was called mercury in Roman mythology and mercury is also the classic metal that represents the mind. Mercury is a liquid metal, making like a transformation and abstract symbol, which the mind is meant to be. So if you want to understand the mind better, you should study how Hermes works. Another key factor is a little belief system that we call hermeticism.
Remember the 7 principles of alchemy from the beginning? Those were the 7 principles of hermeticism, which is a word that's practically interchangeable with alchemy. It is idealist, it is dualist, and it is reflective. It is just how our minds come up with stories to put into the hands of readers for the readers to imagine our idea, only storytelling is a fraction of the concept.
Thot, the Egyptian messenger god, was directly considered the god of magic, judgment of the dead, and writing. That last part is important because he is depicted as a partner of Ma'at as they stand above Ra's solar barque, which is a personal Egyptian boat that is meant to represent the sun. Ra is the god of order, sunlight, kings, and the sky(aka the sky father). Ma'at is the goddess of truth, order, balance, justice, law, and morality.
Back to Greek mythology, we have Hermes who was born from Zeus and Mara. Zeus is the god of gods, while Mara was one of the pleiades. The Pleiades were seven sister nymphs that eventually were turned into stars, and nymphs are meant to be personifications of nature. This means Hermes was born from nature and the ruler of gods.
This means that the ruler, the writer, is accompanied by truth and magic, with both obeying the world and from the world. These are required in order to make a story in the first place, because the story is a world that you’re designing. The writer is the one casting light onto specific events and using specific words to give the reader a specific idea of what’s going on. And not just a specific idea, but a specific argument to declare as true. The postmodernist writer is unable to do this because they don’t believe in the truth, and the postmodernist reader isn’t able to accept it because the truth is offensive to them.
“Hey, that’s not true!”
Oh look, Wendy the writer is back. Tell us Wendy, what did I say that’s not true?
“What you said is a mischaracterization of postmodernism! It’s not that we don’t believe in the truth, it’s that we hold personal truth because there is no objective truth.”
Right, I forgot. It’s true as long as you sexually identify as true. And the audience will see something true as long as they think it’s true. So whenever a postmodernist reader reads something a postmodernist writer wrote, they are treated with an incredibly small chance of gaining any truth from it, and any truth gained from it is actually from what the reader already believed. In fact, the postmodernist writer must make sure that truth is rejected to keep it subjective and open for interpretation.
This is how a postmodernist writer is able to avoid responsibility for any themes found, but at the same time, the self-inflicted wound of what we call “sensitivity reading” intends on having a select few determine what everyone will see as offensive. But, all the while, the reader is making up everything that is offending them when they are intending on being offended by anything, with offense being a psudo-currency unit that is based on how hard a person wants to look like a victim and in what department. This allows a sensitivity reader to make up the darndest things, like claiming orcs are black people or goblins are jews, or something is "gay coded". All the while the author rarely or never intends on any of these things because they aren't trying to write for that specific reader through the whacky lens that reader is using to turn any work into their own personal advocacy. In the most ironic way, sensitivity readers are the ones who utilize stereotypes as a weapon against anything they want to deem as evil, which has been called nonsensical for the longest time until now.
“How dare you insult my precious sensitivity readers! They work to the bone, day and night, telling me about everything I wrote that would look unappealing to minorities. Paying them more than I made in my sales was the best decision I ever made.”
I’m so happy that you’re happy, but don’t you think making a profit is a better alternative to… whatever the hell you did?
“Profit?! As in capitalism? Are you mad?”
Now that you mention it, I did eat a tuna sandwich and that relates to mercury because-
“Now you’re talking about eating animals, which is murder. I wouldn’t be caught dead talking to the likes of you, murderer!”
It’s not murderer until you get caught.
I’ll let her get back to her writing since she seems a bit mentally… preoccupied. What I was trying to say is that this mediary, this psychopomp, is our greatest guide in our writing by allowing us to connect with the truth, which comes from the sky father. This truth is what allows us to create an argument, and this argument is what our story is meant to revolve around. Whenever people talk about a theme, they are talking about an argument being made, and it makes sense to be made.
This argument is the heart of the story, with smaller arguments being made up and down the story in order to make it more valid. Events give examples, characters take sides in the argument to present positions, and the plot strings it all together in order for the reader to see how it works. The author doesn’t hold the truth themselves and neither does the reader. This is why the author's intent and reader’s interpretation is a false dichotomy. The truth is the one that truly matters, which is found within the text as the argument to be had.
A true argument is a valid argument and it is unquestionable other than to the people who reject reality. A postmodernist doesn’t demand truth, because they don’t believe in it. This is why postmodernists now demand change to the world, for the world to mold towards the individual's demands, as if the individual is Enki himself. We are not the gods of mythology, even if we act like one symbolically with writing. We may be rulers of the fictional world that we’re working on and have written, but we are most certainly not the rulers of the real world.
The best we can do is enjoy the guidance and assistance gods and goddesses grant us as we write and communicate with a higher realm through them. The ideas we use, the emotions we use, everything we put into a story is from beyond our brain and beyond our consciousness. Postmodernist writers think the world will bend at the knee for them, and that’s not how it works. Postmodernist readers think their opinion is to be never questioned and that’s not how it works either.
Currently, we are treated with movies that go nowhere, shows that are filled with virtue signaling, games that just try to be meta about political or industrial advocacy, and it’s an utter mess. Again, if these postmodernists said the truth about the media, we’d have positive results coming from them. But we don’t. We don’t have postmodernists making the next big classic and we don’t have readers understanding the most basic themes from something as old as mythology. All the while, the answers have been granted to us by our ancestors for thousands of years.
So far, I’ve covered emotions and the ability to write, but what exactly causes a reader to read something in the first place?
The opinion of a reader is subjective, but the interests of a reader is easy to predict due to the objectivity of behavior patterns and the fact that people who like a genre will read that genre. Genre is not the only factor, there is a lot that can turn the reader on and off. But we shall dive into that another time as we explore topics like the muse, the zodiacs, and personas.
Till next time.

My boyfriend and I have been going out for quite some time now. It’s been good and I really enjoy my time with him, he’s very kind and patient with me and I appreciate that a lot. He doesn’t raise his voice at me and he’s just very caring overall. However, there has been some problems that have bothered me some of which we spoken about.

1. In the beginning of our relationship he was still talking to his old friends with benefits partner. They had their relationship for about eight months until she ended it. According to him, he asked her if she wanted to be in a relationship and she turned him down. I’m not too sure of the whole situation because he didn’t really explain that to me. However, they were still talking after we started dating. And I talked to him about how this was a problem. And he asked me if I wanted him to stop talking to her, and I replied, that he should do whatever he thinks is best. After another conversation he did stop talking to her and they haven’t talked since. Apparently he didn’t think it was a big deal for him to talk to her, until I said asked if it was ok for me to talk to my ex? I guess this is what made him stop. After that I told him that I didn’t want him to do anything he wouldn’t want me to do.

That whole situation made me feel like I was a placeholder for her, and that he was waiting for her to be ready to be with him. I told him that and he said that I made him realize that he wanted to be with her for the wrong reasons. I do not understand a thing of what that means.

1. One day after he dropped me home from hanging out I told him to call me exactly when he got home. And I know this may sound clingy of me but he would do this all the time before we were dating, where he would go out and call me once he got to the door of his house. But after we started dating things changed. And it kind of upset me because I just didn’t understand what happen, it made me feel like he didn’t want to talk to me. Anyway after he once he got home that night he called me an hour later. This led to a bigger issue because I just feel like he doesn’t put enough effort. I feel like he does the bare minimum or what’s expected of him I guess but not really. and I got super upset because I told him that I felt like I was the only one who put effort in. Because I always call him, and make plans to see him all that. And only recently has he made A plan and that’s because I just started schools and I’ve been preoccupied so I haven’t really had time to make any plans. Anyway this led me to want to break up with him, but we did have a conversation about it because I just felt like he wasn’t doing enough. He explained to me that he doesn’t want to call me because he doesn’t want me to feel like he’s bothering me. Which doesn’t make any sense to me because I’ve been telling him to call me and which is such a hard task for him to do. So I said to him “how is it so hard for you to call someone you claim you love?” and he keeps saying how it isn’t a big deal, and how how much he cares for me doesn’t equal the amount of time he calls me. Saying I was being drastic when I said I wanted to break up. And that’s when I got really upset because it may not mean much to you but to me it means a lot to me. And I just felt like he was really in validating my feelings.
   
2. This last problem happened more recently. So last week my boyfriend told me that his stepsister‘s friend thought he was cute (seen him on his steps sis FaceTime call) and his stepsister gave her friend my boyfriend’s socials. So last night her friend was over at my boyfriends house and apparently she goes to church with his mom and his mom was trying to set him up with her. I’ve been at his house multiple times and seen all of his family at least once (since his room is in the basement). He told her friend that he wasn’t interested and that he wouldn’t date someone thats friends with his stepsister and someone that his family knows. So I told him that he should go out with her since he is a single man, because it seems I don’t exist. And he asked me if I was mad, I asked him if there’s any reason why I should be mad? he said that it sounds like I wanted him to say that he’s in a relationship.
   

My family knows that we go out he’s come over to my house up multiple times so I don’t understand why his family doesn’t know. I just feel really tired of having to tell him everything. This is his first relationship but I feel like there’s some things thats just common sense, that a person should know in relationships. I don’t know what to do anymore because he’s hiding me from his family and doing all of these things that I keep explaining to him that I don’t like. I do want to be with him, I love his company and I love hanging out with him. I always have a great time with him but it’s issues like this that I just cannot handle. He wanted me to trust him really bad because I had trust issues from the past and I did start to trust him but now I’m losing all my trust for him again. I don’t know what to do at this point and I need some advice on what to do please help.
TLDR my boyfriend seems to lack relationship common sense and he hides me from his family, and invalidates my feelings, and was talking to a previous friends with benefits partner. I don’t know what to do anymore I do want to be with him but I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore. I’m tired of having to tell him things that I feel like he should already know.

TLDR; mother is passive aggressive and awful and jealous whenever I see or speak about my friends. I can't deal with the internal rage it causes anymore and am seeking advice on how to call her out on it.
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Background, 36F married. Only child.
Mother is single. Reclusive and completely obsessed with maintaining a fake "facade" of perfection and grace and success to the outside world.
Mothedaughter relationship is enmeshed and mother struggles with boundaries often resulting in conflict and tension.
I believe she struggles with anxiety but also shows many narcissistic traits.
I've recently started to really pay attention to how I am feeling when I am talking to her and I've realised that without a doubt, she has an issue with my friends. Every single time I mention them, her entire demeanour changes and she will often take passive-aggressive swipes at them.
For context, my friends are professional, late 30's, normal, successful people that have always been super lovely to Mum and she is so fake friendly to their faces when she sees them.
But then today, this happened and I saw RED.... so I am needing advice as I cannot pretend this isn't happening anymore.
I woke up today feeling great. Made coffee and breakfast and had a nice slow morning with husband who is recovering from surgery.
I knew that he would be laying in bed all day watching the GP and recovering, so I had my girlfriend over for coffee and toasties and just an afternoon on the couch. Was lovely.
Later in the day I am speaking with Mum over the phone, she is fine, happy and positive just filling me in on what's been happening in the family etc, all fine. Then she asks what I am have been doing today. I tell her my friend came over for lunch and coffee. Her ENTIRE tone changes. I maintain my happy tone saying yeah we had a nice afternoon, just sitting on the couch, talking shit and catching up... she passive-aggressively says "Oh yes, THAT sounds like a GREAT time" and huffs at me.
Then cue the INSTANT RAGE that boils up inside of me. and I'm realising that she has basically done this sort of shit to me my entire life. I legitimately feel like a piece of shit so often after speaking with her. I've tried ignoring it and letting it go but I can't.
So my question is, how would you handle this? How or what would you say? I have to call it out. She can't get away with this anymore.
I just said to my husband I'm not even interested as to WHY she is doing it really. I do believe it's because she doesn't have super close friends, all her friends are relatively superficial and she's always tried to make me feel bad for not aligning my values, thoughts etc with her. So because she would never have a friend over for hours or divulge anything overly personal, I've always been made to feel like shit for doing so. God, just writing this I am so fucking angry. HELP ME PLEASE.
Thank you so much if you got this far and read this entire rant.

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1. Know yourself: Self-awareness is crucial for identifying the qualities you seek in a partner. Spend time reflecting on your personality traits, core values, life goals, and preferences. Consider your emotional and communication styles, as well as your love language. This knowledge will help you recognize when you meet someone who aligns with your values and complements your personality.
2. Set realistic expectations: Accept that everyone has flaws and imperfections. Understand that an ideal partner doesn't have to tick every box on your wishlist but should complement you and share your core values. Focus on finding someone who makes you feel happy, secure, and loved, rather than looking for a fairy-tale romance.
3. Be open-minded: Step out of your comfort zone and be willing to meet people who don't necessarily fit your preconceived notions of the "perfect" partner. Sometimes, the most meaningful relationships come from unexpected connections. Being open-minded will help you appreciate a person's unique qualities and potentially discover new interests or perspectives.
4. Be patient: Finding the right person can take time, and it's essential not to rush the process. Avoid settling for less than what you deserve or forcing a relationship that doesn't feel right. Trust that the right person will come into your life when the time is right.
5. Engage in activities that interest you: Participating in hobbies, clubs, or classes related to your interests will help you meet like-minded people. Shared interests can create a strong foundation for a lasting relationship. Plus, you'll be more likely to enjoy the process of meeting new people when you're doing something you love.
6. Expand your social circle: Attend social gatherings, engage in local community events, and join online groups or forums to meet new people. Networking and making connections can increase your chances of meeting the right person. Don't be afraid to ask friends or acquaintances to introduce you to people they think you might click with.
7. Be confident: Confidence is attractive, and it can help you approach potential partners with ease. Work on building your self-esteem by focusing on your strengths and accomplishments. When you feel good about yourself, it's easier to connect with others and make a lasting impression.
8. Be authentic: Pretending to be someone you're not is unsustainable and can lead to disappointment in the long run. Be true to yourself and let your genuine personality shine through. This will attract people who appreciate you for who you are, increasing the chances of finding the right person.
9. Communicate effectively: Strong communication skills are essential for building and maintaining healthy relationships. Practice active listening, show empathy, and express your thoughts and feelings openly. Establishing open and honest communication from the beginning can help prevent misunderstandings and ensure both partners' needs are met.
10. Look for compatibility: While opposites can attract, compatibility in key areas such as values, goals, and interests is vital for a long-term relationship. Consider your potential partner's views on issues like finances, family, and career aspirations to determine if you share similar goals and values.
11. Don't be afraid to take risks: Meeting new people and opening yourself up to potential rejection can be daunting, but it's a necessary part of finding the right person. Embrace the possibility of failure and remember that every experience, whether positive or negative, can provide valuable lessons and personal growth.
12. Learn from past experiences: Reflect on past relationships to identify patterns, strengths, and areas for improvement. This self-reflection can help you better understand what you need from a partner and avoid repeating past mistakes.

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Remember that finding the right person is a journey that requires time, effort, and patience. Stay true to yourself, maintain a positive attitude, and maintain a positive attitude, and be open to new experiences. As you navigate this journey, keep in mind that relationships are about growth and learning. Embrace the process and remember that the right person will come along when the time is right.
In the meantime, focus on your personal growth and self-improvement. This will not only make you a more attractive partner but will also help you become a better version of yourself. Cultivate healthy habits, such as regular exercise, balanced nutrition, and mindfulness practices to improve your physical and mental well-being.
Lastly, always trust your instincts. If something doesn't feel right, it's essential to listen to your inner voice. It can be easy to get caught up in the excitement of a new relationship, but your intuition can provide valuable insight into whether someone is genuinely right for you.
In summary, finding the right person involves knowing yourself, setting realistic expectations, being open-minded, patient, and confident, engaging in activities that interest you, expanding your social circle, communicating effectively, looking for compatibility, taking risks, and learning from past experiences. Stay positive and embrace the journey as you seek to find the person who complements and supports you in the best possible way.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandma lately. Thankfully, she’s just a phone call away for a good laugh and lots of loving wisdom. She crocheted my baby blanket, which I still have today. In fact, she crocheted baby blankets for all her grandchildren. I pride myself in being one of the few that still has there’s 30+ years later. She also crocheted a baby doll and a larger blanket for me when I turned about 14 years old. Both of which I still have. She tried teaching me how to crochet twice in my younger years, but I never could get it to stick. Recently, I thought of possibly having children some day and the thought of making them something to commemorate their birth, that they may keep with them as they age, brought a loving smile to my face. I love my grandma dearly and have so many very special memories with her. As a little girl I always will remember her special basket filled with colorful yarns of different textures and sizes. I remember the crocheted blankets and baby dolls she made for her friends and coworkers. We’d sit in the living room, me watching her watching tv as she crocheted up magic out of thin air and that special basket with her own two hands. She also had a beautiful outdoor garden I would often help her tend to, a jungle-like indoor plant collection, and a hen house I’d run to in the mornings to pick eggs for breakfast or maybe for one of her famous cakes (I always hoped the eggs were for cake) As a little girl, I saw my grandma as someone that could make magic happen. She made these things with her own two hands that most people just bought at the store. She didn’t do it all alone though. My grandpa, may he rest in peace, was with her every step of the way. They were the best of friends and I loved being around them, soaking up as much knowledge as they’d let me. I often find myself longing for a life like the one they created for themselves. I bake often, and think of her. I tell myself one day, when I have the land, I’ll have chickens just like she did. And I just love how impressed she is with my “green thumb” for indoor plants. As my baby blanket sat in my closet, I never thought maybe I’d crochet a blanket for my future child or grandchild, just like she did. I hadn’t thought of it until yesterday. Living so far from my family, and being someone who was raised in a close knit family, I find myself yearning for connection. I knew the moment the thought crossed my mind yesterday that I’d head to the store this morning and get me some yarn and a crochet needle. I was so excited to call my grandma and tell her of this new(ish) hobby I decided to learn. She was pleased, as I knew she would be, to hear about my new journey. She began to tell me how back in the day she would make shawls and hats for store owners in her neighborhood for them to sell. She told me of all the different patterns she had tried. She even told me that she was planning to make another baby blanket for my cousin and his wife’s newborn baby girl. As she told me stories of her crocheting in the past, and how she still has some yarn tucked away for any new projects she thinks of working on, I began to fall even more deeply in love with my grandmother. We’ve always been close, but something about this journey, this craft, has made me feel more excited and connected to her than ever before. I can’t wait to make my first project start to finish, just for her. And I hope she can see the love I have for her in every stitch.

I'm just wondering a question. I have about a car I bought used but from a new car dealership. Specifically a used BMW from a BMW dealership.
I bought the vehicle at an absolute steal. The problem is when I got into it to test drive it first time I hit the brakes the whole vehicles shook pretty violently. It sounded like a helicopter inside it as well and it did not stop that well at all.
I loved everything else about the vehicle and told them the brakes needed to be changed. I was told no, and that there was no room in the deal to change the brakes. I did not have the money for the down payment and also to get the brakes fixed. So it would have to wait until my first paycheck.
But 5 days later I rear-ended someone who stops. After up late in front of me. They were too carlings in front of me and we are going around 40. I had ample space in front of me but the vehicle just would not stop. I had the brakes as soon as he did his, but I still rolled into him going about 15.
My whole thing is that with the brick rotors being so badly warped, should they have passed this vehicles safety inspection?

so, i just went through kinda of a break up. Im aroace and my ex partner who was a friend is also aroace. he asked me for qpr (queer platonic relationship) where you and the other person decide how you want the relationship to go. he didn't communicate that for him we are still just friends who happen to call each other partners and may kiss or do sexual stuff and for me it meant that we are partners without romantic feelings. also to note he used go have bpd symptoms before therapy and i was just newly diagnosed with BPD and couldn't go to therapy. Two weeks ago he suddenly woke up and decided we cant be in a qpr anymore bcoz its stressing him out and when i communicated with him i understood that we had differences in the meaning of the qpr itself. Which would have been fine if he said lets talk and such and explained himself especially that he is always talk about how important in communication. So naturally i had a bpd episode bcoz suddenly this friend/partner whatever is like i cant handle this anymore and lets be friends only over a text. I didn't do sth crazy but my anxiety was so bad i couldn't handle eating anything and he was like im sorry i did it this way but also its not my problem that your body reacted this way. And even at some point he was like i don't want to discuss it anymore with you.
I blocked him for two days till i calmed down and understood what he meant about the relationship which i agree with him but also we both agree that his way of communication is like the worst and triggered a BPD episode. We talked again and we were fine. Again i don't mind just being friends i was gonna do tjis anyway for my own sake. And we got on video call bcoz he insisted and he was like i missed you so much, i was hardly waiting these two days without talking to you. I couldn't even send simple tktks to you and you are different than all my other friends and like he was upset that he is no longer my cat's dad and said that he cried to his friend over me and his mom noticed he was sad and stuff.
I was like trying to take it slow but he was like everything is the same just the name of our relationship. So next day again he was like good morning with a picture of him and everything like normal.
So i was like ok things arw normal ig?! And i was venting about my random thoughts and how my brain is like "you should be sad" and stuff like this not even heavy topics and then i said that hey, i already was treating you as a close friend and that was too much for you so can i know your boundaries now?!
Which i think is fair tbh?!
Anyway i finished my talk which yes took a lot of talking about random stuff but nothing was actually serious except the boundaries part With " aaaaa am i overwhelming you?!" Meaning the amount of talking that is normal for close friends, the thing he asked for.
And then he came back and was like sorry was sleeping so i gave him a summary that all of this is random venting with nothing serious and that what im actually asking is his boundaries. And we talked a bit and he said that no im not overwhelming him or anything and he had a course to attend and i slept and woke up to him saying that yes im overwhelming him and that he can't handle the headache of this friendship and he has to prioritise himself again and block me from everywhere as an "open break" and that he needs time to process what happened (mind you he processed the breakup a week before he told me wjth other friends and he chose to be friends and literally all the decisions were his)
I left him a message with a friend that i wished he would have talked to me and not do the same mistake again. My therapist was like "it seems like he hasn't recovered from bpd at all" but i can't help but feel that i might have done sth wrong in this whole relationship. Like maybe i was real too much and that overwhelming that i made him have bpd again.
Im kinda venting but id also appreciate your opinions about the whole situation. We haven't talked for a week now and seems liek he really doesn't want me in his lifa anymore so suddenly.

Hello, darlings, from Helena the Clown. I decided to tell you a thing that has happened to me. After that life changing night before Christmas, (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5) I decided to step down for a bit and just rest. Take a break. Sleep in my cozy coffin my Vampire sleep. Be a little lazy. Something normal, for both us the immortals and for mortals alike. Especially after all the ordeal of that night.
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I have to admit, when I had to write it all down, I kind of relieved it. And since it took me more to write it than to live it first hand, I had to return to it over and over, until my mind felt sour. But I needed to tell the story, it felt that I had to.
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The psychedelic rollercoaster of that night was an experiment of the SRI (Romanian secret service) alongside the CIA, as the agent I caught told me. Was the experiment successful for them? I do not know. Both me and Sophie, the lovely Elf I met that night, who was a collateral victim of it, waited to see any signs from those bastards. Especially since their weapons were able to give a huge power to demons over us. Nothing clear was seen, on the outside, but our souls were heavy on residue, like some thick goo on them, that needed time to wash away. Yet, signs of slow healing are visible, albeit slow.
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On the other hand, from time to time, I felt some mental ”breeze”. It felt like one of those attacks I experienced, the beginning of it, but dissipating fast. Some went harder than the rest. I talked to Sophie, it seems she had experienced those as well. The Buzz itself did not seem to get the proportions of that night so we can not tell if there are still some agents on us, or just some demons playing around, or our scars, or a combination of those. My ”gut feeling”, something I do not (mostly) rely upon, told me that, most likely, it was not a Human work. At least, not by agents or special drones, like that night.
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Christmas was peaceful, my first Christmas I celebrated as a Christian since I became a Vampire. My confessor, father George Baka, the exorcist, managed to give me Holy Communion, after hiding me close to the church, in order not to inflict panic on my presence there for his Human parishioners. My dear friend Ruxandra drove me in and out of the village in Ialomița county. As I was back in Bucharest and Ruxandra spent some time with her boyfriend, I met Sophie at night at the Circus Park a few days after, where it all ended, after finding a way to get Vampire magic and Elven magic to work together.
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Her parents were dead scared, they wanted to convince Sophie to leave Romania for the UK, in order to stay safe. It seems her mother was mostly afraid of the SRI, the descendent of the former communist political police, the Securitate, most of all. Sophie did not want to, since whatever happened in Romania could happen in the UK, hence the involvement of the CIA made it an international matter. And, besides, Sophie felt safer in here, where I resided and where so many Caterpillar Elves like her were, Elves she wanted to awake. She dressed up the whole time as a Christmas Elf (Yeah, some may say it was silly, but she enjoyed it.), even spoke to kids on Elves. Cannot blame her. She can have enough time in her immortal life to be a Full, ”serious” Elf.
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Indeed, something happened. If it didn„t, I would not be writing this now. Father George decided to perform Holy Liturgy on the night of January the first, which is the secular New Year, like he used to do in the years before, especially since January the first this year was on sunday. Most people would stay up, party and skip church that morning. So, he did it at night, so that at least some will come, then start to party a little. Most will not come.
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Ruxandra drove there, outside Bucharest, as usual. Since my presence would cause havoc, I was supposed to stay close by, not inside the church, with the people who will attend. Ruxandra asked me to help tune up her laptop, on which a fresh Linux installation was made. Since I knew Linux better than her, who is a lifelong Windows user, and her boyfriend was a Macbook type of guy, I decided to make myself useful a bit, before Holy Liturgy. Adrian came with us, still a bit uneasy about my presence in the car. We came out pretty early. I had the idea of going into the graveyard, where we used to spend time myself, Ruxandra and father George, in late summer and early autumn. Since both me and Ruxandra were supposed to take Holy Communion later that night, we needed to stop eating after midnight. After greeting father George, I decided to get to the graveyard, where there is a temporary plastic kiosk, somewhere near the corner of the graveyard. It was a pretty clean, countryside graveyard, nothing great or fancy.
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I was dressed in one of my black belle epoque dresses, with a matching hat, this time. For a Vampire like me, winter cold is far better tolerated than for mortals, but even ourselves have our own limits. Ruxandra came with her laptop, Adrian followed her. People were gathering at church, as Father George performed a Lity. Ruxandra wanted to stay with me but, as she was visibly disturbed by the cold, I told her to get inside. In fact, if it weren't for my friends and Father George, I would have stayed at home in Bucharest, alone, as I do not care too much for the secular New Year. In order to get things going, Ruxandra came with Adrian„s Macbook and we managed to set up a small network, using her phone as well, in order we would be able to get online. She stayed with me a bit, then went to the church for Lity, and let me mind my own doing.
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Yep, it was cold, even I found gloves useful. I spent decades in my grave, hibernating, but that was a special state, pretty different from the one when I am awake and active. I am pretty cold and harsh, but not that much not to feel the cold at all. I started installing and configuring some software from repositories into Ruxandra„s laptop. As night passed, kids around the village started to blow firecrackers and small fireworks on a large scale, it felt like war. I liked it, I admit it, the war flavor of it. I felt like going to them and playing along, but I could not, of course. They have not entered the graveyard, fortunately, although some firecrackers fell inside it. Poor dogs started to bark and howl of that noise.
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Meanwhile, I managed to install Tor Browser, to get on the Dark Web. You know, you can meet some real Vampires there, if you know where to look. At first, when I discovered it, in the months after waking up from my decades of hibernation, in July 2021, alongside things like creepypasta, the world felt far more interesting on the dark side then today. As you may imagine, it was hard to distinguish at first creepypasta from real things, I am sure sometimes it is harder even for someone who was born and lived in this age to do it. Fortunately, I grew more experienced on this pretty fast. No one I could talk to from those hidden online communities was logged in, as it seemed, so I decided to start digging up some things regarding the effects on infrasounds.
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Midnight came. I did not feel excited or anything, neither too sad. Perhaps just a little sad. Humans were having fun in the streets, explosions and stuff. Since the Holy Liturgy started, I stopped working on the laptop itself, and tried to listen to psaltical chants on Youtube. I admit I got bored fast, and went to my regular music. Earphones on maximum level, as I usually like to listen (I know, it is bad to do it for long.). I started to feel a little drowsy and sleepy. Probably something was at work at this point, as it was not normal for me (or my kind) to feel sleepy at night. At some point, I placed my head on the table and listened to the music with my eyes closed. My head was inside the hotspot, inside the wifi medium, but I did not realize it. I let myself drift into sleep, thinking that Ruxandra would wake me up.
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I do not know how, Youtube seems moody at times regarding the autoplay, on being turned on and off. I usually keep it off. As I was signed in with my Google account, it seems it started to play things as I was sleeping, random stuff. I went on for about an hour and a half.
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Eventually, I woke up. Some kind of ASMR or white noise clip was playing, a grey screen, looking a bit like static on an old black and white TV. The sound sounded a bit like that as well, but not exactly. I said something like ”ASMR Relaxing static for deep sleep”. I turned it off, as I was shaking sleepiness off from my mind. The outside was pretty silent, just some crackers from time to time. It was a feeling of things being a bit off. I do not know how to put it, the flavor of reality was off. A feeling that was a little familiar, since that night not too long ago. I was not too concerned, still, since it was not too strong, we have not noticed anything coming here. Indeed, a was a little troubled by this, but not as much as a mortal would have been, being alone, at night, in a graveyard. For me, it was a place and a time that I was in tune with. Perhaps, If I were Human, I would have had a better attitude in that situation. I started to say the Jesus Prayer a bit, and started to walk towards the church. As I was getting closer and felt better, I started to let my guard down and let my thoughts go loose.
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I do not know what is the clear border between a thought and an attitude. I am not a psychologist, just my own rambling here. I think some thoughts work at the edge between the conscious and the unconscious, since they manifest in attitudes, even if the conscious does not want to admit them. Those are not just some deep unconscious processes, they are closer to the surface, so to say. Indeed, before Adam and Eve fell, they had no unconscious part of their souls, after the fall they lost sight of a large part of themselves. Only those very spiritually advanced can truly become fully aware of themselves, and turn the whole unconscious into conscious. Of course, I am not one of them.
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Looking back at those moments, some things are blurry. I was not asleep, for sure, yet it felt a bit like a sleep-like state, the bizarreness of all. It seems some thoughts were moving from conscious to this semiconscious part, back and forth, not all at the same time. I was walking stiffer than I usually do (And I do walk pretty stiff usually.). There was something, I do not remember exactly how much I was aware of, I felt I needed to get closer to the church and away from the kiosk in the graveyard. I started to feel a bit, only a bit, like at the moments during that night, when I felt alone in the whole world. Not strong enough to have a strong attitude, it would have been better if the feeling was stronger.
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I got close to the church, lights were on, but it was silent, like empty. Familiar feeling, but not too intense. I looked back at the graves, something felt new. Unreal in a new way. All this was still faint, for now. I heard some noises on the other side of the graveyard. Then I had a thought that some kids may enter the graveyard and steal the laptops and rest. Something from my mind was saying to stop, not to go into the weird, unreal darkness from there. But I brushed it out, being too faint, unfortunately for me. I went back towards that place.
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As I would later find out, at this point, the Holy Liturgy was over, just a small snack for the people inside, Ruxandra was getting ready to come to me, outside, she just waited for the people to leave the church. She heard something outside, and felt my presence faintly. She decided to come out, to see if I had come too early. By the time she was out, I was already on my way back to the kiosk, she saw me from a distance. The sky was unusually dark on one side, and a feeling of a new unease was in the air. She started to go slowly towards the kiosk as well.
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I walked into the viscous air. Viscous, again. But I was like under anesthesia or on some drugs. Maybe my state was akin to sleepwalking? I was not sleepwalking, for sure, but it felt only a bit like it, if it makes sense. What came next, in the next minute (or minutes) happened on that semiconscious level. I was forcing myself to get into the viscous thing, I would not call it air. Things were like getting blacker, but not physically. I felt worse and worse as I was getting closer to the kiosk. But as I felt worse, a part of my mind fought to keep it semiconscious, not to become aware. Was something taking over me, at least a bit? I do not know. It was like I was heading to my doom, but I was so afraid to admit to myself, so I struggled to ignore that I was doing just that.
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The kiosk was in sight. Silence around me, a silence that seemed to stretch for miles. Or more. I was getting close to the kiosk, the alley went from the kiosk, and it crossed another alley near it, the kiosk was towards my left-front. Things got really black and, without knowing it, the blackness turned into something visible.
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I do not know how long it all took. One second, maybe a few? The alley was blocked by something that looked like some kind of black curtain, blocking the normal reality. It was a physical blackness, for sure, but it contained more than that. It had vertical folds in it, like a physical curtain. I could not say how large it was, sideways and up, it covered the full front of my eyes, I did not have the time to check my peripheral vision, and up it covered much of the clear sky. I knew it was something that came from hell, no doubt about it. I knew I had no chance of running away, as it was too close, too big and too powerful. I was at its mercy. My heart soon became overwhelmed, my mind was soon to follow. On my last moment of consciousness, I let myself to the Lord, as nothing else could be done, realistically speaking. I fused this in an iconic gesture of prosternation, semiconsciously. I let myself fall to my knees and stop my head from hitting the ground with my palms.
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At this time, Ruxandra noticed a black mist starting to gather like a small tower of mist. It was not thick, at least it appeared to her like this. As seconds passed, the mist grew thicker, while she noticed me stopping in my tracks, distantly, then the stars were not visible anymore and something she could not describe took over the sky. An emptiness. Yet, it seems all of it was less intense than for me, not just because of the distance, but some other reason. Perhaps her Human nature, or the fact that she was exposed to the things I have exposed to in the kiosk? Fear inside her started to escalate to panic.
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As I went on knees, I layed completely down, face down. The last thing I saw was that the lower edge of the curtain arose in a fold, on the ground and was sent towards me, covering me. I started screaming inside of my mind the Jesus Prayer, as Ruxandra lost it at this point and just screamed.
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That thing, whatever it was, started to take me in gradually, but in a matter of a second, the most, if it makes sense. It felt like being taken up from the ground, at the mercy of that. I kept saying the Jesus prayer, trying to hold on, albeit it was harder and harder. I was inside a bubble of demonic power, this meant no way I would be able not to lose it on my own. Kept saying the Jesus Prayer, as things were speeding up. Something in the back of my mind kept saying: ”Hold on just a little… Just a little…” So I did, I held onto the prayer. Then I do not remember. I think it was like slipping into sleep.
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Ruxandra was close to being broken, as she fell to her knees too. As I realized later on, after I talked to her, the first impulse was to run. But I was there, with that thing, and she refused to leave me there alone. Even if this was something she never experienced before, something of this magnitude. I can tell you, for a Human Ruxandra is pretty resilient to darkness. Many Humans, even grown men, just fail when they meet me. Just me, nothing stronger or darker. I never heard her scream of fear ever. Strong stock. So you can imagine at this point, at least loosely, how bad this was. But my friend stayed for me. Even if this could have been her doom. Even if all her instincts told her that was doom. Fortunately, she remembered not to look into the mist, after a few seconds, and that she needed to start the Jesus Prayer.
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In a few seconds, after letting the forehead to the ground and closing the eyes, she was into it as well. Starting to feel lifted, as things were going faster and faster. At some point, Ruxandra„s mind went blank as well.
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Fortunately, her screams were heard by father George and the rest who were still inside the church. He exited in a hurry, and people followed. They saw something tall and dark, that seemed to look a bit like a tornado, twisted in the middle. Father George started the exorcism formulas of Saint Basil the Great. Several people started to scream and ran away inside the church, some on the gate, into the street, as father George came bravely upon that, not looking at it. Adrian heard his voice going stronger and stronger as she went closer.
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As he came close to touching the blackness, it started to retreat. He persisted into going further, cursing the powers of hell, and the thing started to back out (Technically to back up). The darkness went up and fading, seeing me and Ruxandra on the ground, holding each other, our eyes being closed and whispering the Jesus Prayer faintly. He did not stop until the night was clear.
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He came close to us, gently touching our heads. Ruxandra gave a sigh and became silent. I opened my eyes and came to my senses. In a few seconds, my dear friend was awake as well. The night was back to its sweetness, the old graveyard as well, the place where I felt so cozy, like being caressed by a gentle ghost.
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We looked at father George, as things started to come back to me. Ruxandra held on to me, as she started to realize as well that it was over. We were protected, as our minds blacked out. We did not remember how we ended up hugged. I whispered to her: ”Praise The Lord. It is gone…” Then, after a few seconds of silence: ”Are you ok? Let's get up.” Father George gave us his strong smile: ”If you ok, let's hurry. We shall not let Christ wait for us. I think the best way now is to go to the side of the church (the south of the church), to calm down people who are still inside, as well as those who fled.”
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I got up, helped Ruxandra get up, got my clothes cleaned a bit, and waited for father George to call people back to the church. On a moment when the way was clear, we proceeded into the side and got to the altar side door.
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As father George tried to bring people back, me and Ruxandra looked at each other. She was still shaken when I asked: ”Are you ok, sis?” She gave a calm sigh: ”It seems so… I am surprisingly well, after all it just was…” ”I feel you on this… I am surprisingly unaffected. I am not well but, if I remember what just happened, I was supposed to be a mess.” ”Yeah, indeed…” ”We were protected, I think. No way could we have made it on our own and be so unscathed. We need to thank The Lord.” I gave her another hug. We waited then in silence for things to calm down, it took about 15 minutes.
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Father George came out of the side door to give us Holy Communion, the Body and Blood of our Lord. Ruxandra wanted to wait for me, instead of having Communion alongside the people in the church. After this moment, it felt like the last claw of that thing was gone, but it's leftovers remained, like scattered around. Yet, when Christ Himself comes to you, all those seem less than meek.
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After getting inside, father George tried to get the people to stay and finish eating, but many of them left early, and this made the rest go with them pretty fast. While this happened, we talked a little. Ruxandra started: ”Those Cones, this was one of those, isn't it?” ”Probably I can say that it was. It felt somewhat like them, but not exactly.” She started telling me how it felt for her, then I told her how it was for me. She went on: ”I want to look into what you were listening to on those earphones, while you were sleeping. YouTube history.” ”Do you want to go back to all that? Being Human, you are more feeble than me.” ”There is something going on. I want to get to the bottom of it.”
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Father George interrupted us: ”You just received The Lord and you are talking about His enemies? Come on, chill down and get inside.” White we ate, he did not allow us to speak too much of it. Then, he suggested we take a rest a bit, and sleep where he prepared for us. Then Adrian and father George collected all the devices from the kiosk and they were all shut down.
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The next day, after we were all home, Sophie and her family came to father George, to get the Exorcism formulas performed on them, since Sophie was the subject of the work of hell that night. According to the old custom, the Exorcism Formulas of Saint Basil are performed not just in case of necessity, but also during the day of his feast, January the first. Unfortunately, most priests do not perform this ritual on this day anymore.
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I met Odette, the mother of Sophie. We managed to get an interesting talk. But that is a story of in it„s own right. What I can tell you yet about her is that she was too a Caterpillar Elf.
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Adrian, on his own, checked the YouTube history of the device, there were some weird things in there. Some of the clips appeared to be deleted, the last one was not. It became clear that they were taken down one by one. He woke up later the day before Ruxandra did, in a sleep paralysis experience.
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I checked my Youtube account history as well. I dared not to listen to those still there. In case any of you shall ask for the link to those on DM, as I am sure many would want to, I will not share it, as I do not want to be responsible for what would happen.
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There are, still, some things I would share with you, perhaps I shall do it, if I shall have the energy. There were some rough months for me. There are many things that can get you down in this world, not all are supernatural, many are just mundane crap that could bring down even a strong Vampire or Elf. But I shall try my best.
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Take care of you and your loved ones. See you soon.
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I blow you a kiss (not a bite),
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Helena

Hello everybody good morning or afternoon or night names cristian and I’m looking for people to chat with or even possibly hangout with in the future. I’m down to talk about whatever doesn’t matter to me and I’m not picky
Some quick basic things I like to do or enjoy are movies,tv shows, anime, comics and video games (Ps5 and Pc)

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