This story needs to be told. Those who have suffered must understand why. It’s not as simple as some have made it to be, which is why it needs to come from the person most responsible… me.
It began when I was least expecting it. But then don’t things always seem to happen that way?
***
“I’m tellin' ya, doc, people just don’t understand,” Frederick said while rocking back and forth in the chair.
“What exactly don’t they understand?” I said, trying to look more relaxed than I felt.
“There’s just something that takes over. You can’t stop it.”
“Impulse control?”
“What’s that mean?” Frederick said, struggling against his straight jacket, trying to get comfortable.
“It means that when you want to do something, you try your hardest not to. It means you try to control or suppress the urge to do things you know are bad.”
Frederick’s mouth lolled open. He narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“Why would I want to do that?”
I suppressed the urge to sigh.
“Because that’s what people do,” I said. “They think about doing bad things, but then they control themselves and don’t do them because those things are wrong and could hurt other people.”
“Hurting people is wrong?” he said.
“Yes, Frederick, hurting people is wrong.”
He shook his head as if he were trying to shake away a fly that was annoying him.
“Why?”
“Why is hurting people wrong?”
“No, why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re saying I’m bad,” he said trying to rise from his chair. “You’re saying I didn’t need to hurt those people. That I’m a bad person.”
I got up from my chair and started backing toward the heavy metal door.
“I’m not bad!” he yelled at me. “You’re bad!”
I knocked on the door and the orderly opened it as Frederick got to his feet.
I slipped through the door as it slammed shut from the impact of his body slamming into it.
“Bad, bad, bad,” he screamed.
“Badbadbadbadbadbadbadbad!”
Spit flew from his mouth landing on the small observation window with metal grates embedded in it.
“You ok, doc,” the orderly said, startling me.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”
I turned and walked down the white hallway, hoping the orderly wouldn’t notice the quickness in my step. I ignored the sound of Frederick beating on the door. I ignored all the sounds I heard. I just wanted to get away.
It was a long walk to my office, through many security gates. At each one, the nurse buzzed me through and gave me an acknowledging look that used to be a smile.
I suppose this place gets to everyone eventually.
I finally reached my office, closed and locked the door behind me, and collapsed into my chair. I breathed out a sigh of relief at reaching relative safety. I turned and looked out my window to the beautiful flowers blooming on the trees in the courtyard. I looked up at the tree stretching toward the sky.
I remember when they planted those.
I turned back to my center, my means of solace, the only thing that mattered in this cruel, unfair world. I picked up the picture of my lovely wife and smiled. She was the one who kept me sane all these years. She kept me seeing the best in people. Or at least trying. Sometimes there was no good to see—especially in my patients.
It takes a special kind of doctor to care for the mental needs of those who have done heinous things that are so bad they don’t even bother sending them to prison. They send them to me.
I’m like the dumpster for the dregs of society. Just drop them in the asylum and forget about them.
I kissed my wife and set her back on the bare desk, then turned on my computer and added notes from today’s session. There was never a recommendation for release. Once patients came here the only way they left was in a body bag. There was no curing them, only trying to make them docile until they left.
Oh, there were experiments. That was a large part of how we were funded. Companies would pay for certain tests to be done. Some might call it torture, but we called it research.
I finished typing my notes and leaned back in my seat. The diplomas and degrees stared down from their perches on the bare walls, mocking me. Demanding why I hadn’t gotten a better job.
As usual, I didn’t have an answer.
My office suddenly felt stuffy. I closed down my computer and left. Driving down the packed freeway, all I could think about was collapsing on the couch beside my lovely Elizabeth. Not telling her about my day until she dragged it out of me, then listening to her encourage me to help those who have been left in my care, because I’m the only hope they have.
Traffic was bumper to bumper and not helping my overall opinion of humanity much. Especially when a car that was swerving from lane to lane, nearly sideswiped me. It kept going on in front of me, nearly hitting several other cars.
The driver and passenger seemed to be having a disagreement about how to drive the car and it looked like it was about to come to blows.
Fortunately, they were soon out of sight, and someone else’s problem.
For the next few miles, I kept watching the side of the road waiting to see the offending car sitting in a ditch. However, they surprised me. They must’ve turned off to go terrorize some neighborhood streets with their reckless driving.
I hummed to myself, not wanting to have whatever dreck was on the radio forced on me.
When I was nearly to my exit, my phone rang. I immediately recognized the number as work. I contemplated answering it for a moment, then thought better of it. There had never been a time when work called with good news. And I was in no mood for bad news.
I hummed a little louder, trying to drown out the sound of the ring before it finally stopped.
The closer I got to home the less I thought about work and the more I thought about Elizabeth. Until I turned off at my exit, I had nearly forgotten work altogether. Maybe I would take tomorrow off and go do something with my wife. We hadn’t been out for a while. The weather had been lovely and I know she would adore a walk down by the lake.
My thoughts were interrupted when I turned down our driveway and saw a car in front of the house. It wasn’t quite in the driveway, it was sitting at an angle halfway in the front yard.
I parked my car and slowly got out. Something struck me about this car, but I hadn’t figured out what. I approached the driver’s side to have words with the person still sitting at the wheel.
“Excuse me,” I said staying a few steps back from the driver’s door.
He didn’t answer me.
“Excuse me,” I said a little louder.
Still no answer.
I tapped on the window and he ignored me.
I opened the door.
“Okay, look… “ I said.
But it was I who would do the looking. The man fell out of the car, thudding on the grass. The inside of the car was covered in blood. I looked down and the man’s throat had been cut.
“Oh my God!” I said jumping back.
I watched to see if the man was breathing, but the way his neck was bent at an unnatural angle against my yard told me everything I needed to know.
I glanced through the car but didn’t see the passenger.
It was then my eyes drifted to my front door.
It was open.
I stepped through the shrubs and up onto the porch, walking in a daze. The surrealness of the moment had yet to sink in. I was going inside to check on my wife and make sure everything was ok.
It didn’t strike me as anything more than that.
‘Oh, she just left the door open, that’s all.’
My mind kept trying to tell me that. I wanted desperately to believe it. Even though she had never been that careless during the entire time we’d been married. I had pushed aside all reason and common sense in favor of pure denial.
Everything was going to be ok. With Elizabeth, everything was always ok. She could literally light up a room with her positivity. She was the best person I ever knew. I have no idea how I got so lucky as to know her, let alone be her husband.
I floated in through my front door on my cloud of denial and looked for my wife.
It didn’t take me long to find her.
There was one wall of the living room she was constantly redecorating. She always said it looked bare and empty no matter what she did with it.
She was hanging from that wall, naked, her beautiful body desecrated by slices and rips. Her throat had been slit and blood still poured from it.
I ran to her.
Tried to take her down.
Screamed her name.
And then it was my turn to scream.
I looked down and saw a knife blade sticking out from my abdomen. It was part of the cutlery set I had gotten for Elizabeth three Christmases ago.
I screamed as I slowly turned to face my attacker.
“What’s up, doc?” Frederick said wearing a maniacal grin.
The shock had punched a hole in my reasoning. I saw him standing there, but I couldn’t accept it any more than I could accept my beautiful wife strung up like a macabre painting hanging on our living room wall.
My eyes tried to focus on his face. To make me recognize him as a threat.
“How’s that impulse control workin’ for ya, doc?”
He ripped the knife out of my back.
The pain, along with his arrogance woke me from my shock-induced stupor.
“Now do you understand?” he said, as he shoved the knife into my belly.
I did understand. I understood at that moment that I was already as dead as my wife. I knew that this piece of human garbage had taken something beautiful from this world. I knew I had to do something about it before there was nothing I could do. Before my body succumbed to injuries and I was unable.
I grabbed him by the throat. He tried to laugh, but my grip was fueled by desperation.
He tried to free himself but couldn’t. He began stabbing me over and over. I refused to release him. I carried him by his neck over to the kitchen counter and began bashing his head off the marble.
I was rewarded with spots of his blood. I knew at least I had made him bleed and that made me smile. His eyes grew wide as my grin grew maniacal. I smashed him repeatedly, crushing him against the sink, breaking the faucet, and causing water to spray into the air.
His eyelids fluttered as he lost his grip on the knife.
He was nearly gone. I would take him with me and that would be my parting gift to the world, removing something so evil.
Suddenly, my body wouldn’t obey commands. My grip loosened. I tried to tighten it, but I had lost all control. I looked down and I was standing in a pool of my own blood.
His eyes fluttered open and he coughed.
‘Nonononononono!’ I thought. ‘He can’t live. He can’t win. I had him.’
He stood as I sank to the floor.
“Looks like maybe you do understand, doc,” he said from what seemed like miles away. “Too bad you won’t be around to discuss it. We could have a session and evaluate how it makes you feel.”
His foot came down on my spine. I felt a crack. He started kicking me in the side repeatedly. Splashing water and blood on me as I felt my ribs crack.
I fought with everything I had.
My body didn’t even twitch.
‘Nooooo!,’ I screamed. ‘It can’t end like this.’
I heard a sizzling sound and then there was darkness.
***
I could feel movement.
Wasn’t I dead?
Was this what happened after?
It was still dark.
‘Hello?’ I tried to say.
Nothing. Just the sensation of movement.
Am I in a body bag? Am I on my way to the morgue or the grave? Please don’t let me be buried alive.
But I’m not alive, am I?
I don’t feel any pain. That’s a good thing, but not a good sign. The last thing I remember was lots of pain.
Suddenly there’s light and my movement stops.
I look up from the floor of a house I don’t recognize.
‘Where the hell am I?’
I’m on the floor next to a wall, looking up at an electrical outlet. Nothing around me seems familiar. I try to stand but it feels weird. It isn’t difficult, and there’s still no pain, it just carries an odd sensation with it. Like my body is just relearning things. Just like when I was a toddler. I teeter back and forth as I rise, but eventually, I’m upright.
My first few steps are tentative, but after that, I gain confidence with each stride.
Aside from the strange surroundings, there’s a sensation, like ants crawling all over me.
I pass a bathroom and glance inside. The reflection in the mirror draws me back. I slowly approach it, seeing something unique and terrifying.
It looks like someone drew an outline of a human form using a lightning bolt. The electricity shimmers and crackles as it races around the empty form of the being.
I wonder if it will hurt me.
Not sure if I want to test the limits of my newfound lack of pain, I hesitantly reach for this creature. It reaches for me at the same time. I’m mesmerized by this mutual curiosity.
My hand is about to touch the electric pulse shaped like its hand. I tremble with anticipation and fear as we touch.
Surprisingly, I don’t feel any pain. I don’t feel anything except a hard surface.
I move my hand back and forth. The creature does the same. I make quicker movements, and so does it.
Finally, out of frustration, I reach back and strike at the creature.
My hand strikes the hard surface and it splinters. There are now multiple creatures staring back at me.
I step back and come to the horrible realization.
I am the creature.
***
One month later…
“And police have been unable to find any credible leads in the string of brutal killings that began shortly after the patient escaped from the mental hospital last month,” the handsome anchorman stated from behind his desk. “They are asking people to call in if they know the whereabouts of Frederick Winston, now known as, ‘The Mangler’.”
“In other news, the Larsan Electric Company has issued a statement that the recent power surges are no cause for alarm. These surges seem to be random in people's homes and certain businesses. An LEC spokesman stated that there appears to be no pattern to the surges and that so far no one has reported them causing any harm. LEC is tracking down the problem and should have it under control soon.”
The anchorman shifted in his seat and turned to another camera.
“And on a lighter note, with Halloween months away, it seems that reports of ghosts are on the rise,” he said, wearing a half grin. “Several area residents have reported what they call a ghostlike figure, outlined in light, visiting them. Reports vary as to the duration and location of the visits, but they do seem to have a few things in common. The visits are usually short. In fact, most people say that if they blink the figure is gone. No one has reported the ghost doing any harm. And it seems like anyone within close proximity feels a tingling sensation and their hair standing on end.”
“Maybe I should be visited instead of my next hairdresser’s appointment,” the attractive woman anchor said with a laugh.
“Schedule me a visit too,” the male anchor said smiling. “And that’s our news for the evening, good night.”
Jimmy switched the channel.
“Gimme a break,” he said to the TV. “Ghosts? Who’s playing what? This’s some marketing scheme to sell Halloween crap. Like that stunt they pulled a few years back with the clowns hanging around the schools to promote that stupid movie.”
He switched off the TV and rolled over in his bed.
It wasn’t long before his breathing slowed. But before sleep could take him, he noticed a glow in the hallway. He didn’t remember leaving any lights on when he came to bed. Living alone had its advantages. If he heard someone in his apartment, he knew they weren’t supposed to be there. He slowly reached over to the bedstand and pulled out his Glock 9mm handgun, then held it close and listened.
He watched as the glow moved. It seemed like someone was looking around. But for what? He didn’t really have anything aside from his TV, phone, and video games. If anyone wanted those, they would be in a world of hurt. He had been lucky to get this apartment. If he was honest with himself, it cost more than he could afford, but when he had the chance he took it. It was too bad the opening came because the person who lived there before him was one of The Mangler’s victims. That’s probably why he was able to rent the place so quickly and get the price down to where he could almost afford it.
Maybe the glow was one of the street people who were stupid enough to see if there was an empty apartment to claim. That wasn’t gonna fly either. Jimmy had jumped on this apartment to get away from the dingy rat hole he used live in on the other side of town. And there was no way he’d let some bum come in here and take what was his.
The glow crept closer. He could feel the hairs on his arms raise. There was a sound too. It wasn’t loud, almost felt more than heard. A soft crackle, like electricity when it sparked.
The sensory input was almost too much for Jimmy to take. He pointed the gun in the direction of the glow and saw the barrel was shaking. His resolve, that he could deal with anyone as long as he had his gun, was beginning to fade.
The glow became so bright that it finally took form.
Jimmy’s eyes widened. It was the form of a person, just like the news had said.
It seemed to look around the room, then settle its gaze on the bed. Jimmy began to sweat as it approached and stared into his eyes.
It was the oddest thing, staring into what should be eyes, but nothing was there. The flashes of mini lightning bolts formed shapes that looked almost human, but it was just an outline, there was nothing inside what should be the body.
He shoved the shaking gun out from under the blanket and pointed it at the glowing figure.
The figure noted the presence of the gun, then continued to advance.
“S… stop,” Jimmy said. “I’m w… warning you.”
The figure ignored the warning.
Jimmy squeezed the trigger, setting off a deafening shot that went right through the face of the figure.
It acted as though nothing had happened, continuing to advance. The ringing in Jimmy’s ears made all sound seem muffled.
The figure stopped two inches from Jimmy’s face.
“Mangler… “ it said, sounding less like a voice and more like a transmission over an old staticky radio.
“I… I’m not the Mangler,” he said. “The person who used to live here was killed by him.”
It seemed to ponder this for a moment.
“Find Mangler… “ it said.
“I d… don’t know where to find him.”
It moved an inch closer. As the flashes of electricity arced, licked hungrily at Jimmy’s face.
“Find… him… “
“Ok, ok, I’ll find him,” Jimmy said, feeling the heat from the electricity.
The figure seemed to consider that for a moment then backed away. It moved toward the bedroom wall. Then, like someone had turned on a vacuum, it was sucked into an electrical outlet and disappeared.
Jimmy laid back in bed, breathing hard. His eyes darted left and right all around the room. But the only evidence of the figure that remained was the bullet hole in his bedroom wall.
***
The trips through the electrical conduits had become easier. There were still times when I came out someplace I didn’t intend to, but I was usually able to recover quickly and get to where I wanted to go.
But where did I want to go? At first, I wandered around, lost in this new form I found myself trapped inside. It was only after I had overheard a news report about the serial killer they called The Mangler that I gained my purpose.
Of course, Frederick was going to keep killing. Of course, they weren’t going to be able to catch him. He’d been inside away from his victims before and he didn’t like it. Not being able to torture and kill innocents was like a normal person not being able to breathe. Not that I know much about normal or breathing anymore.
I suppose on some level I should thank him. I thought about it for a long time and the only thing that makes any kind of sense is when we were fighting, somehow the water and blood I was laying in got splashed into the electrical socket. Instead of killing me, it bonded with me, making me able to become the electrical current. To ride it like a wave to wherever I wanted.
I became faster than any person ever was. And yet, I wasn’t a person anymore. I have no idea how I retained my consciousness, let alone my memory. But somehow…
I justify it by the old adage, ‘I think therefore I am.’
My life has become an endless hunt for the person who destroyed me, the person I must destroy. I don’t even know what I’ll do when I find him. But I will find him. I will stop him. This time, I won’t fail. I’ll end him like I should’ve before.
I owe it to the people he’s tortured and killed since my failure. Most of all, I owe it to my wife. I know she wouldn’t approve of my bloodlust. She would say there must be some other option. But if she would be able to see her dead body hanging naked from our living room wall, I think she just might change her mind.
My thoughts are interrupted as I arrive at my next destination, another victim’s house. I’m not sure what I’ll find that the police haven’t, but I have to try. Maybe I can pick up his scent somehow. A plan almost assuredly doomed to failure since I lost all sense of smell in the transformation.
I’m surprised though that I can still see and hear. I suppose waves of light and sound somehow intersect with my electrical body and it senses them. I don’t question it. I’ve learned to just go with it.
On the plus side, I don’t have to worry about eating, drinking, or using the bathroom. I guess there’s an upside to everything. Elizabeth would be so proud of me.
I arrive at the room where the victim was murdered. Looking around there’s still blood everywhere, along with evidence markers where they took pictures.
The sheer amount of blood tells me he took his time. He desecrated this girl in her own room. Her parents must’ve been out because there’s no way they didn’t hear the struggle. There were books on the floor, a chair overturned, and blood everywhere. The room was a disaster. It looked like she fought him. I wish she would’ve succeeded where I had failed.
But then, I wish I hadn’t failed, and this girl was still alive.
There’s nothing I can do now except find him and end him.
Finding him was proving more difficult than I thought. I had unlimited access to anywhere with electricity, but I couldn’t use a computer or a GPS. I was limited to transportation only through electricity. Granted that still made me the fastest being alive. I say being because I don’t think I qualify as human anymore. But I was limited to traveling to a place and then trying to find out where I was and if he was there.
If he knew I was searching for him all he would have to do is live the rest of his days in a cabin in the woods with no electricity. I’d never be able to reach him.
I believe two things worked in my favor with that theory.
First, I don’t think he’s that smart, and second, I don’t think he knows I’m looking for him. I believe that surviving our fight only further empowered him to kill. When someone feels invincible, they’re bound to make a mistake.
An officer walked into the room and I ducked back into an outlet. I was able to hang on where I was and watch from inside the outlet without being transported somewhere else.
The officer looked startled and stared at the empty air that I had just vacated. She looked like she was unsure if she trusted what her eyes had seen in the instant before I vanished.
She slowly stepped over to the corner and bent down to peer into the outlet. For a moment I wondered if she could see me, and what exactly she would see. But then her radio squawked calling her to another scene. When I heard the voice on the radio say the address and that they might have the killer cornered, I didn’t waste any time.
It was maybe fifteen seconds until I was across town at the address I’d heard. There was a lot of screaming and crying going on. I came out of the outlet and saw blood on the floor beside a body that wasn’t moving.
There was a girl being beaten by a man with his back to me. He turned to take another swing and I knew my search was over.
“My psychiatrist used to tell me I needed to work on my impulse control,” he said calmly as he slapped her. “I think I’m doing pretty good. I’ve been here ten whole minutes and you’re still alive.”
I shot across the room and knocked him to the floor. He jumped back up and looked around for what had hit him.
“What the hell?”
I saw the fear in his eyes when he saw me. I know Elizabeth would’ve been ashamed, of me, but I was enjoying his anxiety. After all he had done to me and so many others, I drank it in like an elixir.
He started edging toward the door. I was there in a heartbeat. His eyes darted back and forth between where I used to be and where I now stood. The panic in his eyes doubled.
I wanted to make him suffer, but I didn’t want to make the same mistake I’d made before and let him escape with his life.
I lashed out with a bolt that used to be my arm. The energy slashed through his shirt and fried a hole in his shoulder.
He screamed in pain and horror as he looked at the smoking hole in his skin. He tried to run but in an instant, I was there in front of him firing another bolt and searing the skin across his waist to his jeans.
His screams of pain and rage were only matched by the feral desperation in his eyes.
Not knowing what do to, he went with the familiar. Attack the innocent. He grabbed the girl who had been crawling away from the scene.
He grabbed her again and held her in front of him like a human shield.
What a waste of skin.
I fired a bolt into a ceiling light beside me which ricocheted and hit him full force in the leg, nearly severing it.
He went down like a ton of bricks, trying to hold on to his hostage, but she was fighting to get away from him. She broke free and he crumpled to the floor.
“What do you want?” he screamed at me.
With everything that is within me, I wanted to tell him who I was, what he had taken from me, and what I was about to take from him.
But I didn’t want to give the satisfaction. I wanted to give him only uncertainty and fear to cling to.
I could feel the seconds ticking away. I knew I had to make the most of this opportunity or he would get away again. And after this, I might never find him.
I unleashed every ounce of energy at him. I couldn’t even see him, he was only a smoking pillar of frying skin.
Just then, the police burst through the door.
“FREE… “ the first officer started then the shock of what he was seeing stole the rest of the word from his mouth.
He stood there, mouth agape when the female officer stepped in behind him. She looked at me and her wide eyes narrowed as she put two and two together and recognized me from the last crime scene.
I had no reason to fear. I didn’t know if I could even be harmed in my current state. But when you see that blue uniform burst through a door with a gun aimed at you, all rational thought takes a vacation.
I dove for the outlet and was gone. I didn’t even care where I was going. I knew I had done what I wanted to. The monster was destroyed.
Something felt different. Was it pride at finishing my crusade? Was it shame knowing Elizabeth wouldn’t have wanted me to do it?
I don’t know but there was something else. It was like there was added weight to my existence. I guess you can have a conscious in whatever you’d call this existence.
I appeared in the place that made the most sense, ironically. It was my old home. The one where everything I loved died, including me. It was where I took on this unintended new existence.
Is that why I felt this extra weight? Was it some cathartic aftereffect of my search for revenge that was finally over?
I looked around the charred debris of what used to be my home. In my mind's eye, I didn’t see the burned-out shell of what was left. I saw it as it was when we first moved in. When Elizabeth and I started decorating. When the interior was finally finished and I turned to her and said, “For now.” Knowing she would decide to change everything at some time in the future when she was bored, just like all women seem to do.
I remember getting a paintbrush across the mouth for that comment. I smiled remembering kissing her with my freshly painted mouth and ending up in the bedroom.
As I turned toward where I’d entered the house, my smile quickly faded. For some reason, I was still connected to the outlet. That had never happened before.
Another curiosity arose when I noticed the color of my electrical body was now tinged purple. It had always been blue before.
The tail of what had yet to come out of the outlet was red. As I pulled and it came the rest of the way out, it merged with me and turned purple.
“What the hell?” I heard someone say.
I whipped around but no one was there.
“Where am I?” the voice said.
“Who are you?” I said to the air.
There was a long silence.
“Doc?” the voice said.
As far as I knew it wasn’t possible for my spine to turn to ice, since I no longer had a spine, but the feeling seemed the same.
“Frederick?” I said.
“What happened?” he said. “This crazy electric thing attacked me and now… wait a minute. How am I talking to you? You died months ago.”
My shock gave way to utter despair. My enemy was now part of me.

Judgement day today. Before the banks’ crisis I was pretty sure this meeting would see a .5 hike. I feel they should have given us a .5 last meeting but here we are. Some are expecting even a rate cut today LOL! I would say it is split between no hike and .25. But I would say everyone, but me, expects this to be the last hike… I would say the majority are now expecting the Fed to cut rates .25 at the next meeting in 6 weeks! I have seen people expecting a .75 cut by years end. I am not in any of those camps! Due to the bank crisis, I expect 2 more .25 hikes… And possibly, possibly 1 or 2 cuts towards the 4th quarter. [After October.] There is a serious fight against inflation, but now we see first hand what rate hikes can do to our banks, causing widespread panic, and a run on the banks.
These bankers, many, did not have their position in 2008, and certainly weren’t around for 2000. We learn thru experience, so they did not hedge, did not plan for a market in which the Fed would tighten, the Fed would increase rates rapidly. They deserve what they get! When Covid hit, the Govt did something unconstitutional. They told land owners, what they can, or cant do, they made us house people for free. I understand, there was a pandemic, but no one came to my aid. If you accepted rent relief, [Which took 3-4 months to get funded, I did apply for 1 person] You could not evict that tenant for 6-12 months, and while processing you most certainly were a slave to that tenant and the Govt. If the tenant did not want to fill out their portion, you were not getting paid, if they did not know how, you were not getting paid.. So you had to beg someone, whom screwed you for 6-18 months to fill out a lot of documents, send proof and wait months later to be funded. So, I only did it for 1 single mother who owed me for about 8 months.
So no one stepped in for me. I was losing 15-20K per month on my properties, this was without my major renovations which I still did some.. I waived goodbye to between 300-400K that I will never get back in lost rent. All told, lost rent, paying for mortgages, utilities without those rents, I easily lost near 600K. I am lucky I did very well in the market in 2020/21.
So I don’t believe we will get the hikes that we should, it is crushing many companies, but the low income will suffer for these transgressions of people who have made bad decisions. That said, I believe 2 more hikes, which will put us near 5.1-5.2% with the bank lending, tightening, may put us at a 3 handle on CPI sometime by years end. If CPI drops quickly, if and then, that is when I see the Fed cutting rates, and not before. It is to early to predict the affects of these hikes on earnings and the economy, we can only say it is going to be bad! How bad? No one knows, if I don’t know for sure, I am telling you, no one does. I do see the combination of banks and 5%+ rate bringing us near the 3 handle and that is when the Fed will cut. I do not see the Fed backing off the hikes before, regardless of what banks fail, regardless of flat GDP, unless we see unemployment above 5% and at the moment it is near 3.5-3.6%.
That said, when the market realizes, if they do, that this may not be the last hike, and a pivot wont happen until the end of the year [When the Fed knows we will get a 3 handle on CPI] the market should… I say they should, but there has been a disconnect between the market, and the data.. come down. And as I said before, regardless of where the SP500 is, current fair value is 3,300-3,400 based on earnings at the moment! I say the moment because the trend is going down, not up, not even flat! The numbers are still getting worse! This time next month, we will start seeing 1st quarter earnings. [Reported 3rd Week of April] And you will see the quality of earnings, because of company color on earnings and forecasts I see the numbers going lower.
If we are lucky, and its lucky, by 2nd quarter earnings [July] the hikes will stop, and earnings will go from down trending to flat, which is at least better than where we are.
I made this video on 2/20/2023 on quality of earnings
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1Vuv8EGBdQ&t=20s
We measure sales, and earnings [bottom line] year over year. It is very good if you beat analysts consensus on top and bottom, but if you have less sales or less earnings that the previous year that is not a good sign. ZIM earnings are expected to be down near 75% in 2023 compared to 2022, so the stock price is down more than 75%. Sales are expected to be down 50% but the stock reflects that already. Also, ZIM has a PE ratio of near 2.5 and that is with the company earning 10 dollars a share. The company smashed 4th quarter earnings by well over 1 dollar, sales by 100 million, and the forecast of 1.8-2.2 billion profit far exceeds analyst estimates of the company earning near 50-60 million for the year. [Current consensus is 42 cents. 120 million shares] GME is headed the right direction, for now, at least. I am impressed that they did make 48 million as opposed to losing 50-100 million. It is definitely a huge improvement, first profitable quarter in 2 years. But if you take a look at the 10Q, they had a decline in sales 2%. I expected near flat, and they did this by a cost savings on expenses near 90 million. This is very good, but keep in mind, this is temporary. You can only make money for so long with declining sales. It gives them some breathing room. GME still lost 313 million for 2022 even with the surprise 48 million profit. I am impressed, but the quality of earnings is in question for sure. Check the video above, however it is a step in the right direction. It was also the 4th quarter, Christmas, holiday quarter. If they do this 2 quarters in a row, then I will clap.
Either way, the company is not worth anywhere near 8 billion, which is where it will be at around open. ZIM is valued under 3 billion! Plenty of companies that make profits and pay dividends are worth far less than GME. But as we know, this is an auction, supply and demand, it is a popular vote. WGO beat top and bottom line by a wide margin, the market cap is 1.8 billion and has a 2% dividend yield, just mentioning it so you can compare different companies. NKE had a huge earnings beat and sales beat. NKE is down on inventory glut, I would not long or short NKE, I really liked it in the 80s but here we are. I wouldn’t short or long GME, but maybe if 30! If 19 yesterday I would have made a small bet on puts, maybe 500 bucks, but it peaked around 18.40. You can never judge a reaction to earnings when you have so much retail.. Otherwise ZIM would be 30+. I did like WGO in 2021, but the field is out of favor for now.
I will wait for the Fed decision, I had an order to sell ACI at 19.60 and high was 19.52 yesterday. If the Fed does hike .25 and talks about it being the last hike, I may sit on the sidelines for a while. If the Fed doesn’t hike at all, same thing… if the Fed talks tough and there will be more hikes and no cuts till end of the year [As should] I may buy puts on high fliers
5 trade ideas: If the Fed does not talk tough, I may sit and watch
GME – The numbers were a vast improvement, I wouldn’t long or short it here 26-27.. However, if the Apes take this above 30, I like the risk reward. The last time I was buying puts was months ago when it was 27+, I was buying puts with a 20 strike 2-3 months
BIDU – If the Fed gets tough it may be time to get puts on the Chinese Google, I have been watching but havent pulled the trigger
IRTC – A huge high flier that burns cash, same thing as BIDU if the Fed speaks tough
SQSP – If Fed talks tough
FRC PACW NYCB NWBI ZION – The banks are still hot money, be careful out there!
The contents of this post are for information and entertainment purposes only and does not constitute financial, accounting, or legal advice. ... By choosing to make a trade you are responsible for your own actions. Please do some due diligence. These are trades I am making and you can follow along. If you make a winning trade, I do not even expect a bravo or thanks but that’s fine, if you lose on a trade the same difference.. I do not even expect an upvote or reward… The Elite team is aware of the risks and volatility in the market.
Good luck everyone let’s make money. Share trades, ideas here during trading hours. Our main goal here is to make money so I hope we can help eachother. I will be in and out of here as well.

I recently re-read The Final Dossier and was struck that the juiciest and most interesting revelations about Judy (or at least Frost's interpretation of Judy) seem to have been ignored by the community and the various popular theories. I've never seen any of this discussed before so here goes.

• According to Agent Preston, a "Joudy" is a *type* of creature, not a single creature. Frost really hammers this home by describing a Joudy as a subtype of ancient Sumerian demon
• Joudy is the female of the species, a male is a Ba'al. When The Final Dossier was released there was a lot of talk about Ba'al (singular) being BOB, but that doesn't quite seem to fit.
• As was widely discussed when the book first came out, Frost reveals that should a Joudy and a Ba'al ever procreate, it would bring about some terrible apocalyptic event by birthing some anti-christ analogue. At the time this was linked to a possible motivation for Mr. C/BOB trying to find "Judy", but if there are multiple Joudies/Ba'als, then this is complicated somewhat.
• Joudy/Ba'al creatures are said to be a dangerous and deadly, but tellingly "feed on pain and sorrow", strongly hinting at a link to lodge creatures MIKE and the arm as well as BOB.

Contradictory/Complicating factors from The Return:

• In three important scenes towards the end of The Return, Judy is explicitly referred to as a single creature/person. These are when Mr. C meets Jefferies, and later when Gordon Cole explains the nature of Judy ("an extreme negative force", singular) and then when Cooper meets Jefferies ("this is where you'll find Judy")
• In FWWM, Jefferies is clearly talking about Judy, singular. However, Frost seems to explain this in TFD. Jefferies was investigating what he thought was a person called Judy, and at some point received a distressing phone call during which he carved the word "Joudy" into the hotel room wall with a knife.

Putting this all together

• After re-reading the Judy chapter in TFD, I no longer believe the common theory that the creature which spewed the BOB orb is Judy. I think that creature is instead spewing forth lots of Ba'als and Joudies, of which BOB seems to be a particularly powerful Ba'al. Maybe the frogmoths are Joudies and the orbs are Ba'als.
• Woodsmen seem to be a lower form of demon than a Ba'al/Joudy, since they are seen to serve BOB and the frogmoths.
• That Ba'als and Joudies "feed on pain and sorrow" is, I think, a major clue to understanding the whole thing. The garmonbozia-loving lodge creatures we know and love from the original series are either Ba'als or Joudies depending on their gender.
• By this logic, Mrs. Tremond is a Joudy, MIKE and BOB are Ba'als. Mrs Tremond has a "grandson", a powerful magician and Lynch analogue. Is the missing piece here that the great apocalyptic event has already happened? What if the grandson is that dreaded anti-christ type figure, the result of union between a Ba'al and Joudy? The grandson is not the son, indicating a missing link- an off-screen daughter or son of Mrs. Tremond. Could this be the Joudy inside Sarah Palmer? (If so, that makes the grandson/anti-christ a kind of half-brother of Laura Palmer.)
• With all this in mind, the final scene of The Return takes on a whole new meaning, yet one that aligns with some common fan theories. The reveal that the owner of the Palmer House is "Mrs. Tremond", that they bought the house from "Chalfonts" tells us one thing: the Palmer house is infested with Judies.

So, House military leader and Jod's bootycall, Admiral Sarpedon's name comes from Greek mythology, from a son of Zeus and Europa. Greek Sarpedon had two brothers, Rhadamanthus and Minos of Crete, who both went on to become Judges of the Dead in Hades, Rhadamanthus even becoming a byword for people showing stern or inflexible judgement (also Minos is famously bull-associated as well because it's cows all the way down, motherf**kers). Sarpedon, or possibly his grandson of the same name, also shows up in the Illiad where he gets stabified by Patroclus; his father Zeus could have saved him, and wanted to, but didn't for what amounts to divine political expediency. Tl,dr I'm predicting things aren't looking good for Admiral Sarps in Alecto.

Hey everyone
I've had such amazing support from this subbredit it's been overwhelming.
I just wanted to give a quick insight into how I became so big.
Starting from the beginning I was born at 9.12lbs so I was a decent size baby. Growing up I found my love for chocolate I couldn't get enough of the stuff. I'd sneak downstairs and raid the fridge when everyone was in bed.
Being fat got me bullied in school the way I dealt with it was by comfort eating. Food never judged me. Fast forward and I spent most of my 20s at 320lbs
Then in 2019 everything changed for the worst. I ended up being let go from my job as they couldn't afford to keep me I was pretty flustered by this then one day my other wise healthy cat collapsed and I was told he had a blood clot on the brain so I had to have him put down.
Then when I was at my absolute lowest point I received a phone call from my mum telling me she'd been diagnosed with stage 2 ovarian cancer This all happened in the same week and I was ruined.
I was so bitter and angry at the world so I gave up. I just ate and ate and ate and ate some more I didn't go out the house I didn't speak to people I didn't want to live anymore. I just sat gaining weight waiting to die of a heart attack.
But things started to get better.
My mum ended up kicking cancers arse and has been cancer free for nearly 3 years now. In 2020 I became a dad for the first time but I just couldn't seem to lose all the weight I'd gained.
I've been trying ever since and I will continue to do so. I've upped my game lately and I'm more determined than ever to do this. For my son for my partner and for me.
I'm sorry this is such a long post.
Thank you for all the support you are all amazing.
Daniel.

Is this an impulse decision or not. Can't tell if its the brain or the trauma. Too many parts.
Help! Is this an impulse decision or not. I can't tell if its the brain or the trauma...
NOT US. (Third world country i.e. There is no government support of any kind) This is going to be a long one. I'd appreciate it if you'd read through it, but if you can't
TLDR; My toxic 52h/week with 20+ hours shifts workplace is actively traumatizing me. I have food, housing and utilities covered. I just want to quit so I can focus on building skills to change careers. Is this smart?
Hey guys. Please help me with this. I've been struggling with this. I work in healthcare as a junior doctor. I had a greater than 1 year career gap after graduation and was surprised to be hired to the place I'm currently working as I felt unemployable. It's a dead end job with no progression because I can't pass the exams needed. Some background this is the same hospital where I worked during my graduation.
After a few months of trauma-therapy, about over a year of inner child work, and I've finally discovered why I'm stuck acedemically/professionally. Aside from my cognitive weaknesses this line of work is associated with alot of trauma for me (something I just uncovered in therapy). I've decided I'm ready to change careers. I never had the chance to work through what I liked during my early days so I don't know what would work for me and I want to give myself time to discover and learn so I can actually build a career for myself but I understand that it isn't realistically possible. I found a master's programme that really interested me and will atleast be able to provide me with a stable, well-paying, 9 to 5 if nothing else. In my country pays are shit and no decent jobs unless you have a masters atleast. I need to study for GRE and get a good score if I'm to get in. I need time and low stress in order to be able to manage by executive dysfunction enough to study and with my current job I haven't been able to at all and the entrance test is in two months.
My last shift I had an even more traumatizing experience at work. A new supervisor, in a gathering of about 15 colleagues and students proceeded to call me out regarding my decisions and assessments for appropriately 20 mins in front of the patient's family it wasn't even formal calling out but just literally shit talking me. My senior didn't assess the patient like they had to. (I'm very poor knowledge-wise and haven't been able to cope with it to this day but work hard so am considered a decent worker). They said someone complimented me and I guess they were trying to judge if it was warranted. "you don't know how to do this!?" "you've probably never done this before, have you?" "don't lie to me" " no way she did this" " asks me a question and I reply to the best of my shit knowledge proceeds to make fun of my answer" "where do you think youre going come back here" "don't stand over there stand infront of me" "is your stethoscope old? What brand is it? (implying I'm using a shit one" " laughs I asked you to take it from me why are you coming here?" " referring to group she isn't listening is she?" "looks like you've never done this before" "you need to study" you get the gist. On a sad side note: You know how we're always taking about how our trauma symptoms are defences in childhood I actually experienced it play out in real time when this happened and lol I believe it now. If it wasn't for dissociation I don't know how I would've gone on through the day.
I'm tired. So done. A part of me says just quit immediately and start studying for your masters and focus on building skills for a job. Another part says to not quit until you have another job lined up but the response to that is you've been trying to do this for a while just accept that you're not capable of building skills while also working here with all the trauma work and symptom management you have to do in general and also because of your job so can't build skills and manage symptoms and work and also apply to new places like today hustling worker. I really want this masters and I really want an engaging fruitful career. I'm afraid if I quit ill end up back to the state I was in during my career gap (super suicidal literally the worse mental space I've been in) but another part says you're not the same person anymore. 1 of my two primary abusers doesn't live with me anymore and I have much better symptom control. BUT another part says you'll loose your income and so your super expensive trauma therapist approximately 30% of my salary went into trauma therapy but the results are incredible so I feel it was totally worth it and alot of my salary goes into what I call cptsd-tax. The reply is well you can get into freelance work.
Anyways I'm so unsure and my mind feels like it'll explode. Thoughts? After crying and feeling like shit all day some parts of me are beginning to feel resentful towards me that I keep putting myself in this situation. I'm not in crisis-mode that much I can tell and I'm not fleeing from process which means I'm not in a flight or fight state either. I want to take the risk and quit but I feel like I'm yearning for validation in this decision. As I type this I'm hoping everyone says yeah go quit ASAP but I know logically that won't be the case. I'm so confused but also feel a little certainty that even if I did quit I'd make it somehow. Let me know what you think I'm desperate for support.
Thank you to anyone who read this. I apologise of any formatting issues as I'm on mobile.

NOT US. (Third world country i.e. There is no government support of any kind) This is going to be a long one. I'd appreciate it if you'd read through it, but if you can't
TLDR; My toxic 52h/week with 20+ hours shifts workplace is actively traumatizing me. I have food, housing and utilities covered. I just want to quit so I can focus on building skills to change careers. Is this smart?
Hey guys. Please help me with this. I've been struggling with this. I work in healthcare as a junior doctor. I had a greater than 1 year career gap after graduation and was surprised to be hired to the place I'm currently working as I felt unemployable. It's a dead end job with no progression because I can't pass the exams needed. Some background this is the same hospital where I worked during my graduation.
After a few months of trauma-therapy, about over a year of inner child work, and I've finally discovered why I'm stuck acedemically/professionally. Aside from my cognitive weaknesses this line of work is associated with alot of trauma for me (something I just uncovered in therapy). I've decided I'm ready to change careers. I never had the chance to work through what I liked during my early days so I don't know what would work for me and I want to give myself time to discover and learn so I can actually build a career for myself but I understand that it isn't realistically possible. I found a master's programme that really interested me and will atleast be able to provide me with a stable, well-paying, 9 to 5 if nothing else. In my country pays are shit and no decent jobs unless you have a masters atleast. I need to study for GRE and get a good score if I'm to get in. I need time and low stress in order to be able to manage by executive dysfunction enough to study and with my current job I haven't been able to at all and the entrance test is in two months.
My last shift I had an even more traumatizing experience at work. A new supervisor, in a gathering of about 15 colleagues and students proceeded to call me out regarding my decisions and assessments for appropriately 20 mins in front of the patient's family it wasn't even formal calling out but just literally shit talking me. My senior didn't assess the patient like they had to. (I'm very poor knowledge-wise and haven't been able to cope with it to this day but work hard so am considered a decent worker). They said someone complimented me and I guess they were trying to judge if it was warranted. "you don't know how to do this!?" "you've probably never done this before, have you?" "don't lie to me" " no way she did this" " asks me a question and I reply to the best of my shit knowledge proceeds to make fun of my answer" "where do you think youre going come back here" "don't stand over there stand infront of me" "is your stethoscope old? What brand is it? (implying I'm using a shit one" " laughs I asked you to take it from me why are you coming here?" " referring to group she isn't listening is she?" "looks like you've never done this before" "you need to study" you get the gist. On a sad side note: You know how we're always taking about how our trauma symptoms are defences in childhood I actually experienced it play out in real time when this happened and lol I believe it now. If it wasn't for dissociation I don't know how I would've gone on through the day.
I'm tired. So done. A part of me says just quit immediately and start studying for your masters and focus on building skills for a job. Another part says to not quit until you have another job lined up but the response to that is you've been trying to do this for a while just accept that you're not capable of building skills while also working here with all the trauma work and symptom management you have to do in general and also because of your job so can't build skills and manage symptoms and work and also apply to new places like today hustling worker. I really want this masters and I really want an engaging fruitful career. I'm afraid if I quit ill end up back to the state I was in during my career gap (super suicidal literally the worse mental space I've been in) but another part says you're not the same person anymore. 1 of my two primary abusers doesn't live with me anymore and I have much better symptom control. BUT another part says you'll loose your income and so your super expensive trauma therapist approximately 30% of my salary went into trauma therapy but the results are incredible so I feel it was totally worth it and alot of my salary goes into what I call cptsd-tax. The reply is well you can get into freelance work.
Anyways I'm so unsure and my mind feels like it'll explode. Thoughts? After crying and feeling like shit all day some parts of me are beginning to feel resentful towards me that I keep putting myself in this situation. I want to take the risk and quit but I feel like I'm yearning for validation in this decision. As I type this I'm hoping everyone says yeah go quit ASAP but I know logically that won't be the case. I'm so confused but also feel a little certainty that even if I did quit I'd make it somehow. Let me know what you think I'm desperate for support.
Thank you to anyone who read this. I apologise of any formatting issues as I'm on mobile.

Report can be found here.
Take away

• on average, house prices have fallen by 1.1% since December 2022
• there has been an annual price rise of 6.3% which makes the average property in the UK valued at £289,818

Make of it what you will but look forward to the discussion here as its always hot topic.
For me it just way too early to judge the market. Base rate in January 2022 was 0.25 and this year it was 3.50. Won't people have held on to offers/agreements from last summer? lol

Round 16! Title of the poll says it all. Let's vote!
The winner of the previous poll (for Men/Round 15) was David Henrie! Who will win Round 16?!
Who's who...
Here are your choices for Round 16 in case you aren't familiar with all the names:
Daryl Sabara - Actor. Best known for playing Juni in the Spy Kids movie franchise.
Law Roach - Former celebrity stylist. Former judge on the TV shows Legendary and America's Next Top Model.
Chip Gaines - TV stainterior designer. Best known for the Fixer Upper franchise on HGTV, which also stars his wife Joanna.
Peter Facinelli - Actor. Best known for playing Dr. Carlisle Cullen in the Twilight film franchise, and the hit TV show Nurse Jackie.
Kris Humphries - Athlete. Former NBA player.
Justin Guarini - SingeactoTV host/Broadway star. He was the runner-up on the first ever season of American Idol. He has released two studio albums and is the star of the infamous film From Justin to Kelly.
View Poll

Back at it! Round 16! Title of the poll says it all. Let's vote!
The winner of the previous poll (for Women/Round 15) was Martha Stewart! Who will win Round 16?!
Who's who...
Here are your choices for Round 16 in case you aren't familiar with all the names:
Lori Loughlin - Actress. Best known for the hit shows Full House, Summerland, 90210, and When Calls the Heart. I won't go into her personal life/legal troubles because I think most know of them. Her daughter Olivia Jade was given a chance in season 30 and did quite well (in terms of dancing). Should Lori follow in her daughter's footsteps?!
Amy Lee - Singer. Lead vocalist of the rock band Evanescence.
Joanna Gaines - TV stainterior designer. Best known for the Fixer Upper franchise on HGTV, which also stars her husband Chip.
Emily Osment - Actress and singer. Best known for playing Lilly on the hit show Hannah Montana. Also known for the TV shows Almost Family and Pretty Smart.
Brandi Glanville - Reality TV star. Best known for The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
Jennifer Beals - Actress. Best known for the hit movie Flashdance, and the popular TV show The L Word.
View Poll

TL;DR My BF is Asian Indian and I’m white. He knows I was married once and had no problem with it. I’m actually divorced twice, and terrified to tell him. Got married at 18, divorced shortly after, bad situation. I don’t know how/when to tell him and almost don’t want to but keeping that a secret is eating me up inside. Help.
Long story short- when I was 18, I married an idiot guy straight out of high school only to split up 3 months later. We did the court house, he left for basic training the next day, and we split up right after he came back. Truly was the worst relationship ever, because I stayed with his incredibly evil mother while waiting for his return. A lot of bad things happened to me during this time at her hands, total trauma. No need to get into it.
I later married a guy and divorced him 4 years later, he knows this story and doesn’t have a problem with it. We talked about it and it went well, he was so understanding and supportive.
My boyfriend is Indian, so me being divorced is already a big deal in his culture, but he has told me repeatedly he doesn’t care at all about my past. He’s proven that he hasn’t let it bother him in any way, and we are so happy together. I’m absolutely head over heels for him, and vice versa.
Things were fine until the guilt started eating me up inside about not telling him about my first “marriage”, or break up with paperwork as I like to call it.
Our relationship is still relatively new, so I’m conflicted on what to do. I’d be gutted if he didn’t accept that first part of my past, but I can’t handle hiding something like this from him. Seeing as this is something really good that we have, I’m terrified of ruining it, even though I have zero control on changing anything about it. Obviously. No person has ever made me this happy before- and it’s been a journey to get where I am today. I don’t ever let my past define me and it’s made me a better person.
I just don’t want to feel judged, looked at with a negative connotation, or seem like I’m a total crazy woman who must be insane if she’s been married twice by age 30. I have a big loving heart, I value commitment and marriage, I have a lot of love to give, and I just want to be the best version of myself in every possible way. Back then I made mistakes, was naive, and didn’t know any better. There’s been a lot of growth.
Because he is raised in a different culture, that’s what I worry about the most. One marriage? Sure, okay. A second? How could he not have thoughts about it? He’s not given me any indication that makes me feel insecure. He’s been wonderful.
I’m just absolutely terrified on how to bring it up, when to bring it up, and a part of me doesn’t even want to bring it up- but I want to do things the right way.
I need advice. Please help.

Hello everyone, a few days ago I posted that I was in need of financial help because I need food, gas for heating and money to attend job interviews. I received some money (God bless that individual abundantly🤍) which I put on my gas meter but I was using emergency and so the substantial minus amount was paid off. I’m very stressed and depressed at the moment, I’m filled with such sadness. The house is cold because the heating was off for so long and I need to add more money. Please pray for me because I need a breakthrough and I would just like someone to talk to. I feel so miserable and alone, I don’t see a way out and I know God always has one. I’m trying my best, every way I can think of I’ve tried. I know this is testing my faith but I can’t help but think that I have done something wrong and that’s why I am struggling.
I keep praying but I know God will never ignore the prayer of someone righteous which makes me cry even more. No one wants to think God is unhappy with them, it’s a horrible feeling. I am not feeling very well perhaps it is the overthinking and overwhelming feeling. You’ll never understand until you have been in this position, how extremely difficult it is. Along with the feeling of wanting to do anything possible to find a way out. When all you have is your thoughts and four walls, you question your purpose and why stay in a world if you’re struggling and you’re not happy.
Thank you all for your prayers under my previous post, I’m very grateful. I’m happy about this community because not everyone has access to a place where someone’s situation won’t be judged or made fun of privately. The world today is not the same, sometimes the place you go for help is the same place that will make you feel worse. Please pray for me, thank you all & God bless you 🤍

is listening to old men's music only a redflag?
Before judging by the title pls read. I try to make it short. I (36f) have started dating someone (35M) who only listens and talks about super old British music band. I play guitar and we had a mini so-called rock band when I was 18 until 21. So I'm not unfamiliar with nor I don't dislike that type of music. What is odd is that this is his father's type of music. He has listened to that type of music whole his life. When I even wanna introduce some cool rock bands with great songs and music he falls back to those old bands. He has been raised by his dad only who is 45 years older than him and I feel the influence has been too much. Also my date suffers from deep depression which I don't care. If someone doesn't have depression is odd these days, but he says he has had it since he remembers.
The reason I'm bringing this up is that I had a terrible relationship and when I went to see a therapist after that and we went through my journal, he showed me how my gut feeling was against that relationship from the early days. And syptoms of BPD were there in my journals. I didn't know what BPD is that time.
I really wanna listen to my gut feeling but also I might be over thinking. Is this a symptom of any serious issue? I don't feel comfortable with this much obsession with those old music bands.
I need to add that after that relationship and therapy sessions I realised I have been raised by a NPD mom who I grew codependency with. And it explained why I get attracted to NpD and BPD people. This bands that he keeps talking about were being played in our house when I was a kid and my parents really loved them. I'm really worried that I'm again attracted to a blueprint of my parents.

At VEGAS DRYWALL REPAIR, we know that your home is your oasis. It’s where you go to relax, spend time with your loved ones, and take a break from the world. We believe that nothing should stop you from enjoying and loving every corner of your home – including holes in your walls and ceilings. Drywall is a staple in almost every modern home. It’s a sturdy, fire-resistant material that’s perfect for building, but it’s not immune to damage. Whether you’re dealing with a dent or ding from moving furniture or a full-blown series of holes left behind by a plumber or electrician, VEGAS DRYWALL REPAIR can make your plaster, sheetrock, and drywall look pristine and new again in less time and with less mess.
Drywall Installation
Whether you call it drywall, gypsum board, or sheetrock isn’t important. What is important is hiring a professional company that knows how to properly install it. Poorly installed drywall may mean extensive and expensive repairs later down the road. Save yourself the headache and the money and go with the drywall experts at Vegas Drywall Repair. We have provided Las Vegas Henderson Nevada and the surrounding areas with quality drywall installation for many years. If you are planning a new construction project in Las Vegas Henderson Nevada, you’re going to need drywall and you’re going to need someone to properly install it. Look no further than Vegas Drywall Repair!
Drywall Repair
Most of us don’t spend a great deal of time thinking about drywall, and why would we? It isn’t exactly the most interesting thing in the world. But when there’s a dent or hole in your drywall, it can be difficult to think of anything else. Any amount of damage, no matter how small, can become an unwanted focal point in a room. Vegas Drywall Repair is here to change that. As a leading drywall company in Las Vegas Henderson Nevada, we can restore the look of your drywall and put your mind to rest
Fiberglass Insulation
Are you building a home in Las Vegas Henderson Nevada? If so, you have a lot of choices ahead of you. You may have already decided on what type of flooring and siding materials you’ll be using, and what the layout will look like, but there’s another decision you will need to make – one that you may have not given much thought to. What type of thermal insulation will be placed in your home’s walls? Insulation is arguably one of the most important components in your home and is not a decision you should make lightly. If you are wondering about what type of insulation is the best choice for your home, you may want to consider fiberglass insulation.
Interior Painting
Here at Vegas Drywall Repair, we are known in Las Vegas Henderson Nevada as the painting experts. When you team up with us for our painting services, your satisfaction is guaranteed. From start to finish, we employ the best of our abilities to make sure your walls look absolutely perfect. Whether you are looking to make a statement with bold colors or looking to achieve a more natural feel with earthy tones, you can count on Vegas Drywall Repair for the best interior paint services. As a leading drywall and painting company in Las Vegas Henderson Nevada, we can make your house, well, a home.
Mold and Mildew Removal
Mold… just the mention of the word makes most homeowners shudder. Mold is unattractive, grows rapidly, and can have harmful effects on a person’s respiratory system. If you’ve noticed mold growing in your home, it is important that you bring in a professional mold remediation company as soon as you possibly can. This is not a job you want to tackle on your own. Mold can be especially difficult to remove from drywall, and in most cases the infected portions will need to be removed and replaced. Partnering with a professional mold remediation company will give you the peace of mind that comes with knowing your drywall is completely mold free.
Trim and Molding
Baseboard molding is something most people don’t consciously notice when they walk into a room, but (much like window trim, door frames, and crown molding) it can have a huge effect on a person’s impression of a space. A room with no trim or molding – or worse, poorly chosen trim or molding – can make a room feel sterile, cluttered, messy, or claustrophobic. However, professionally designed and installed window trim, door frames, and molding can be the little extra that takes your home from ordinary to extraordinary.
Plaster Repair
Plaster is commonly found in older homes in the Las Vegas Henderson Nevada region. The reason is that plaster has many benefits, but it is time consuming and more labor intensive than modern drywall installations. However, if you have plaster walls or ceilings in your home, they can last for decades if treated properly. Unfortunately, over time and through sheer bad circumstance plaster can be damaged and need repairs. Sometimes this will mean a complete removal of the plaster, but often only relatively small repairs are required. Vegas Drywall Repair has been repairing the plaster in San Antonio for years and we have honed our abilities to repair plaster into an expertise that few others possess. We know how to assess the extent of the damage and quickly figure out the best way to repair it. Our customers can count on us to evaluate the least expensive option to reach the desired outcome.
Soundproofing
Are you tired of lying in bed at night listening to the noise of passing cars? Are your ear plugs no match against your television’s surround sound system? Are your rowdy neighbors interfering with your everyday activities? Wouldn’t it be nice if you could get a moment’s peace? Vegas Drywall Repair is here to help you say goodbye to all that racket with our soundproofing services. We have provided Las Vegas Henderson Nevada and the surrounding areas with the best soundproofing services for many years. Whether you work from home and require a peaceful environment or whether you simply want a break from your neighbors, you can count on Vegas Drywall Repair.
.

I finally got a job after 3 weeks of searching and waiting for call backs. A number of bills have piled up and I was supposed to pay my electric awhile ago but was putting it off before I left my last job. Now it's caught up to me. I work Tuesday - Saturday from 1:30pm till midnight and off on Sundays and Mondays if anyone needs a favor or any help of any kind and willing to pay me same day I will be there. I need to make $250 before next week. If I need to I will wake up before the sunrises to come help you on any day or help you between Saturday night - Tuesday morning before I go to work. Doesn't matter how strenuous the work is I'm willing to do it. My lights are getting turned off tomorrow. I only have the money for my rent after that I don't get paid till next week. I can't have my son staying in a house with no electricity.
I'm a 28 year old 6'4" 236 pound black male
I will come with my driver's license for identification I am a military veteran (Army 92A last unit was 108th ADA in Fort Bragg)
Steel toe boots if needed Heavy Coat if needed I'm very good at following instructions I'm very good at writing, articulating, creating, lifting, endurance activities, public speaking, cleaning, listening and many more things.
I am completely non-judgmental in anyway. I'm humble trustworthy and quiet. I'm willing to sacrifice personal issues to get the job done.
I WILL NOT SUE FOR INJURY!
I MIND MY BUSINESS!
I AM UNARMED!
Any amount of money will do if not the $250!
I will arrive sober and ready to work.
I don't judge the morality of the work given.
If interested or have any more questions please PM me.

I felt the cold wind slice into my thinning hair as if it were comprised of ethereal razors. I gripped my wounded extremities to the back of a cold metal frame built onto the atv as a ramshackle "oh sh*t handle." In a crude attempt to remain stable on the quaking apparatus as its tires found purchase on the uneven ground, truth be told, I would have wrapped my arms around my liberator for balance, and I am not wholly convinced he would have made sure I had not remained on the chariot for much longer after a move so bold. He remained silent for the entirety of the short trip and seemed to operate the vessel with a decisive focus similar to that of a student who had recently connected with a previously incomprehensible portion of a lesson. The ride concluded moments before nightfall, and what lay before me, illumined by the lights fixed to the front of the vehicle, was a derelict home that seemed out of place within the forrest. as if left there by some incongruous carpenter to be reclaimed again by the earth. Vines had grown up the dwelling in such a way that the strands of plant matter seemed sentient, and they seeped into the cracks and holes that had grown onto the home as scars do on an aging body. The home looked almost as though it was stricken with an unknown infection that only affected inanimate objects. What few windows the shack had were boarded up by scrap plywood, with small dances of flickering light visible through the gaps. A pungent odor leaked from the pores of the cottage, which mixed with the smell of gasoline from a stationary engine placed just to the right of the home's door, creating an olfactory calamity that nearly caused me to wretch immediately after coming into its range. I stared up at the shack in disbelief; this could hardly be called a structure, and judging by the generator placed outside, there was no world in which there was an instrument inside capable of connecting to the internet to send emails back and forth. It didn't take much thought to conclude this was not the Fairhaven Community but instead perhaps an outpost, or, God forbid, this is where I was supposed to stay. Before I opened my mouth to make my grievances known, the man swung his leg over the side of the ATV and motioned me to follow him. "Best we go inside," he muttered, pointing up at the sky. "Ain't the best time to be hangin' round outside." I hopped off to follow and responded, "That's what I keep hearing." I had been warned before of dark forests on other jobs, mostly due to wondering animals or the locals' fear of some long-told story of a cryptid passed down as a warning to children for years. Most of the time I took these warnings with a grain of salt, as they were normally given by any given town's designated drunkard or wise old orator in a typically playful manner during a night of backwoods revelry to welcome me. However, something about the warnings of this forest seemed much more grim and all too real. Perhaps it was my anxious nature, but as the sun fell into the horizon, I began feeling not only uneasy but I had this indescribable feeling of...impending dread, as if the world beneath me was just about to collapse and if I didn't find the warm glow of light before the cosmic radiance of the sun disappeared completely, I wouldn't ever make it to see the next day. In this moment, I would have done anything or gone anywhere to get out of the darkness for a brief moment. I ignored my aforementioned discomfort and followed the man to the door of a home I never would have entered in any other situation. The maker turned and yanked a few times on the cord of the contraption meant to provide power to the home until it let loose a roar that echoed through the valley. It slowed to an idle sputtering, and the home was illumined with an array of eclectic lights securely fixed to surfaces all around the home, wrapping me and my savior in a blanket of light that stood out in the darkening woodland. I could now see the man standing upright in vivid detail. He has a thin frame; however, his arms protruded with bulbus knots that spoke volumes of his physical capabilities. His hairline fell back on his forehead, revealing a deep scar that span its length, and his glasses seemed to not quite fit the way they were supposed to on his withered skull. He wore large boots that looked to be much too large and had been commandeered from a man who had long since lost use of them, and his face carried a sort of aversion. A look that I had come to understand was similar to mine—one that developed from being thrust into a place I had no interest in being. He extended his hand towards me, and I in turn grasped his. His calloused and overworked hands grinded into my blistered hold with an expected grip that could bust open an aluminum can with ease, causing me to wince a little in pain. "Harridson Demp" be muttered upon shaking my hand. "Caleb Hayes," I coughed back through gritted teeth. He pushed at the door, which opened with a droning creak punctuated with a sharp crack when the squeak reached its apex, revealing a dimly lit vestibule that was just big enough for the two of us to fit simultaneously. The walls were decorated with mold and peeled wallpaper, and a slight drip of water could be seen coming from a faucet just an arm's length from the floor. As I stepped inward, I felt my foot sink a little into the decomposing foundation the room was built on, almost as if it were made of half-dry clay. The potent aroma of ammonia formed a poignant wall that sat midway through the room; the air was humid and nearly thick enough to reach out and grasp. I looked over toward the man with an apparently indisputable face of disgust formed by nearly three long decades of comfortable living. "Put your purse down; it's better in here than out there," he said with an offended glance. "Do you live here?" I choked out through my lips, pursing them, preparing to release what little I had eaten in the past 24 hours. He stepped slightly toward the second door placed in the hellish airlock and spoke, "Not just me; family's here too." I was floored at the thought of a family living in the squalor I had seen, not to mention what had yet to be seen. Understand, I've been in plenty of questionable family living situations prior to this poor excuse of a home, and it looked as though it had been not only neglected but purposefully mistreated by anything it had come into contact with. I made contact with the abysmal interior of the dwelling and was instantly greeted by a compact space that acted as a kitchen as well as a living area, with a makeshift cot placed in front of a rusted stove. The walls were covered in off-putting paintings and portraits of varying quality, ranging from childlike to outlandish renditions of common things that covered my skin in goosebumps. Refuse and filth littered the ground in all but a few pathways to a different door. From my count, there were 3 doors in total, two of which were shut, however, and sitting slanted on brittle hinges. The other door on the wall adjacent to myself was opened wide and presented something akin to a bathroom. Inside of the chamber stood a woman dressed in a stained white button-up and a dingy yellow apron who was emaciated in stature with netted locks of auburn hair that fell much too far down her crooked spine. She carried herself with a submissive and reserved posture—not that she was shy or skeptical of me, but as if she were broken and mortified. The woman didn't lift her head as we walked in but simply gave a trembling nod as she rushed to the room on her right and gently tapped at the decaying wood frame of the door. The door flew open, and three children walked out from within it. The oldest of the children looked to be a boy of about 15 draped in a large set of ill-fitting and torn rubber waders with brown hair that sat awkwardly just above his large ears, the middle child was a young girl with hair similar to the woman who welcomed me into the loathsome palace; her face, however, displayed a wide smile of unkempt teeth as she brandished a still-dripping paintbrush, and the youngest of the children was a boy who couldn't have been more than 6 years old; he wore a trucker cap tightly sque Every one of the brood stood like some extraterrestrial being horribly attempting to appear human; their eyes were all tired and filled with thousands of years' worth of experience that I would prefer to distance myself from. The scene before me was disheartening, and it did not help the state of confusion I had been in at every waking moment since I arrived at the gas station. I had thought perhaps that Harrison initially was the father of the family, but the way their looks, their clothes, and their states of being contrasted with his own drove me to think otherwise. Harridson cleared his throat, motioned towards the children who had filed out of the threshold, and announced, "Oldest there is Carl, but we call him Gator on account of his love for animals, middle one is Lucille, she's the artist around here," he said, motioning to the walls before continuing, "and that there are the twins." I gave him a questioning eyebrow that broke him from his rant. "Twins?" I broke the silence. He nodded, saying, "It's like he's got two people living inside of him." not just like mood swings but as two completely separate personalities. "The one you see right now is Dale, and the other is Wiley." I had a thousand queries about the youngest child alone, but opted to keep the majority of them to myself before stammering, "Are..do..how long have you guys lived here?" Lucille perked up and raised her brush to speak, but was immediately intercepted by Harridson. "I'd say about 5 years now?" For five long and assuredly horrid years, the family had stayed in a four-room home that was moments away from falling into the crust of the earth. Was I supposed to inhabit this contaminated vivarium as well? The very notion of remaining here for just a single night showered me with a rain of traumatic feelings. Was this the family I was meant to teach? If so, then why was I not informed or introduced properly, and why was the patriarch of the family so vastly different from the animalistic paupers he claimed as his kin? My vision began to flatten, and my heartbeat picked up to a machine gun pace as the archaic lights illuminating the room started to heat my skin, causing cold beads of sweat to form in my violently shaking hands. My breathing twisted into a brisk and labored wheeze as though I'd run a mile in seconds. My hearing floated in and out as I heard the Gator speak in an overly high-pitched and nasally whine. "You alright, mister?" is the last thing I remember hearing before feeling Harridon's iron grip close around my shoulders, which have started to plummet to the cluttered floor. I was surprised in the moment at how Harridson had yet again come to my aid during a tragic moment, and I couldn't help but feel ashamed. I had been in situations where the families I was teaching were unclean, disorganized, or impoverished, but my current predicament, accompanied by sleepless exhaustion, must have humiliated the man, who was most likely presenting himself in a better light to net a better quality of life. It was sometime between the end stages of my panic attack and the floor that I lost consciousness that night, and if I can be transparent only for a moment compared to now, it was the best night's sleep I would have for a very long time.

I felt the cold wind slice into my thinning hair as if it were comprised of ethereal razors. I gripped my wounded extremities to the back of a cold metal frame built onto the atv as a ramshackle "oh sh*t handle." In a crude attempt to remain stable on the quaking apparatus as its tires found purchase on the uneven ground, truth be told, I would have wrapped my arms around my liberator for balance, and I am not wholly convinced he would have made sure I had not remained on the chariot for much longer after a move so bold. He remained silent for the entirety of the short trip and seemed to operate the vessel with a decisive focus similar to that of a student who had recently connected with a previously incomprehensible portion of a lesson. The ride concluded moments before nightfall, and what lay before me, illumined by the lights fixed to the front of the vehicle, was a derelict home that seemed out of place within the forrest. as if left there by some incongruous carpenter to be reclaimed again by the earth. Vines had grown up the dwelling in such a way that the strands of plant matter seemed sentient, and they seeped into the cracks and holes that had grown onto the home as scars do on an aging body. The home looked almost as though it was stricken with an unknown infection that only affected inanimate objects. What few windows the shack had were boarded up by scrap plywood, with small dances of flickering light visible through the gaps. A pungent odor leaked from the pores of the cottage, which mixed with the smell of gasoline from a stationary engine placed just to the right of the home's door, creating an olfactory calamity that nearly caused me to wretch immediately after coming into its range. I stared up at the shack in disbelief; this could hardly be called a structure, and judging by the generator placed outside, there was no world in which there was an instrument inside capable of connecting to the internet to send emails back and forth. It didn't take much thought to conclude this was not the Fairhaven Community but instead perhaps an outpost, or, God forbid, this is where I was supposed to stay. Before I opened my mouth to make my grievances known, the man swung his leg over the side of the ATV and motioned me to follow him. "Best we go inside," he muttered, pointing up at the sky. "Ain't the best time to be hangin' round outside." I hopped off to follow and responded, "That's what I keep hearing." I had been warned before of dark forests on other jobs, mostly due to wondering animals or the locals' fear of some long-told story of a cryptid passed down as a warning to children for years. Most of the time I took these warnings with a grain of salt, as they were normally given by any given town's designated drunkard or wise old orator in a typically playful manner during a night of backwoods revelry to welcome me. However, something about the warnings of this forest seemed much more grim and all too real. Perhaps it was my anxious nature, but as the sun fell into the horizon, I began feeling not only uneasy but I had this indescribable feeling of...impending dread, as if the world beneath me was just about to collapse and if I didn't find the warm glow of light before the cosmic radiance of the sun disappeared completely, I wouldn't ever make it to see the next day. In this moment, I would have done anything or gone anywhere to get out of the darkness for a brief moment. I ignored my aforementioned discomfort and followed the man to the door of a home I never would have entered in any other situation. The maker turned and yanked a few times on the cord of the contraption meant to provide power to the home until it let loose a roar that echoed through the valley. It slowed to an idle sputtering, and the home was illumined with an array of eclectic lights securely fixed to surfaces all around the home, wrapping me and my savior in a blanket of light that stood out in the darkening woodland. I could now see the man standing upright in vivid detail. He has a thin frame; however, his arms protruded with bulbus knots that spoke volumes of his physical capabilities. His hairline fell back on his forehead, revealing a deep scar that span its length, and his glasses seemed to not quite fit the way they were supposed to on his withered skull. He wore large boots that looked to be much too large and had been commandeered from a man who had long since lost use of them, and his face carried a sort of aversion. A look that I had come to understand was similar to mine—one that developed from being thrust into a place I had no interest in being. He extended his hand towards me, and I in turn grasped his. His calloused and overworked hands grinded into my blistered hold with an expected grip that could bust open an aluminum can with ease, causing me to wince a little in pain. "Harridson Demp" be muttered upon shaking my hand. "Caleb Hayes," I coughed back through gritted teeth. He pushed at the door, which opened with a droning creak punctuated with a sharp crack when the squeak reached its apex, revealing a dimly lit vestibule that was just big enough for the two of us to fit simultaneously. The walls were decorated with mold and peeled wallpaper, and a slight drip of water could be seen coming from a faucet just an arm's length from the floor. As I stepped inward, I felt my foot sink a little into the decomposing foundation the room was built on, almost as if it were made of half-dry clay. The potent aroma of ammonia formed a poignant wall that sat midway through the room; the air was humid and nearly thick enough to reach out and grasp. I looked over toward the man with an apparently indisputable face of disgust formed by nearly three long decades of comfortable living. "Put your purse down; it's better in here than out there," he said with an offended glance. "Do you live here?" I choked out through my lips, pursing them, preparing to release what little I had eaten in the past 24 hours. He stepped slightly toward the second door placed in the hellish airlock and spoke, "Not just me; family's here too." I was floored at the thought of a family living in the squalor I had seen, not to mention what had yet to be seen. Understand, I've been in plenty of questionable family living situations prior to this poor excuse of a home, and it looked as though it had been not only neglected but purposefully mistreated by anything it had come into contact with. I made contact with the abysmal interior of the dwelling and was instantly greeted by a compact space that acted as a kitchen as well as a living area, with a makeshift cot placed in front of a rusted stove. The walls were covered in off-putting paintings and portraits of varying quality, ranging from childlike to outlandish renditions of common things that covered my skin in goosebumps. Refuse and filth littered the ground in all but a few pathways to a different door. From my count, there were 3 doors in total, two of which were shut, however, and sitting slanted on brittle hinges. The other door on the wall adjacent to myself was opened wide and presented something akin to a bathroom. Inside of the chamber stood a woman dressed in a stained white button-up and a dingy yellow apron who was emaciated in stature with netted locks of auburn hair that fell much too far down her crooked spine. She carried herself with a submissive and reserved posture—not that she was shy or skeptical of me, but as if she were broken and mortified. The woman didn't lift her head as we walked in but simply gave a trembling nod as she rushed to the room on her right and gently tapped at the decaying wood frame of the door. The door flew open, and three children walked out from within it. The oldest of the children looked to be a boy of about 15 draped in a large set of ill-fitting and torn rubber waders with brown hair that sat awkwardly just above his large ears, the middle child was a young girl with hair similar to the woman who welcomed me into the loathsome palace; her face, however, displayed a wide smile of unkempt teeth as she brandished a still-dripping paintbrush, and the youngest of the children was a boy who couldn't have been more than 6 years old; he wore a trucker cap tightly sque Every one of the brood stood like some extraterrestrial being horribly attempting to appear human; their eyes were all tired and filled with thousands of years' worth of experience that I would prefer to distance myself from. The scene before me was disheartening, and it did not help the state of confusion I had been in at every waking moment since I arrived at the gas station. I had thought perhaps that Harrison initially was the father of the family, but the way their looks, their clothes, and their states of being contrasted with his own drove me to think otherwise. Harridson cleared his throat, motioned towards the children who had filed out of the threshold, and announced, "Oldest there is Carl, but we call him Gator on account of his love for animals, middle one is Lucille, she's the artist around here," he said, motioning to the walls before continuing, "and that there are the twins." I gave him a questioning eyebrow that broke him from his rant. "Twins?" I broke the silence. He nodded, saying, "It's like he's got two people living inside of him." not just like mood swings but as two completely separate personalities. "The one you see right now is Dale, and the other is Wiley." I had a thousand queries about the youngest child alone, but opted to keep the majority of them to myself before stammering, "Are..do..how long have you guys lived here?" Lucille perked up and raised her brush to speak, but was immediately intercepted by Harridson. "I'd say about 5 years now?" For five long and assuredly horrid years, the family had stayed in a four-room home that was moments away from falling into the crust of the earth. Was I supposed to inhabit this contaminated vivarium as well? The very notion of remaining here for just a single night showered me with a rain of traumatic feelings. Was this the family I was meant to teach? If so, then why was I not informed or introduced properly, and why was the patriarch of the family so vastly different from the animalistic paupers he claimed as his kin? My vision began to flatten, and my heartbeat picked up to a machine gun pace as the archaic lights illuminating the room started to heat my skin, causing cold beads of sweat to form in my violently shaking hands. My breathing twisted into a brisk and labored wheeze as though I'd run a mile in seconds. My hearing floated in and out as I heard the Gator speak in an overly high-pitched and nasally whine. "You alright, mister?" is the last thing I remember hearing before feeling Harridon's iron grip close around my shoulders, which have started to plummet to the cluttered floor. I was surprised in the moment at how Harridson had yet again come to my aid during a tragic moment, and I couldn't help but feel ashamed. I had been in situations where the families I was teaching were unclean, disorganized, or impoverished, but my current predicament, accompanied by sleepless exhaustion, must have humiliated the man, who was most likely presenting himself in a better light to net a better quality of life. It was sometime between the end stages of my panic attack and the floor that I lost consciousness that night, and if I can be transparent only for a moment compared to now, it was the best night's sleep I would have for a very long time.